478
JOYCE CAROL OATES
the windows - the doors - the roofs -
Everything entered my
body, flooding into me. You were like a lighthouse - the beacon
on a lighthouse! That light! That beam of light! My body broke.
It
flowed out into the city. It came apart into pieces.
(she touches
her body, as if in a daze; she looks down at herself)
There
is
a
body here. I know that. And I am thinking, I am speaking, out
of a skull that is on top of this body, covered with flesh, a living
skull, the bone hidden from sight. I know this. But there
is
no
connection between myself and this body. I could go on talking and
my voice could float away, into the clouds ... I am the size of an
angel, the size of a fingernail ...1 could be borne into the sky
on a piece of soot, a piece of charred paper flying in the air....
(suddenly frightened)
Peter is coming! I can hear him coming!
SHELLEY
throws herself down on the mattress.
PETER
leaves the
doorway and returns again, rapping on the door. He claps his
hands. His tone is louder, even more hearty, slightly scolding.
PETER: What the hell? What? Wake up, little girl! Get up! Don't
you know it's five o'clock in the afternoon, it's time for you to
be
fixing the house, cleaning and polishing and cooking, don't you
know your husband
will
be home in half an hour?
SHELLEY
(pretends to be waking):
My head aches ... what
ha~
pened . . .? I don't feel right. . ..
PETER: You were lying in that same position when I left three days
ago. Shame on you, how lazy you are! For shame! What
will
your husband say? Do you want to anger him again? Why isn't
supper on the stove?
SHELLEY: I can't make myself sit up ... my head aches ... I feel
sick....
PETER: Up, up!
(clapping his hands)
For shame! Have you been
hoarding those little white pills? Has someone rolled pills under the
door to you? Have you made friends with another little girl, are
you rapping on the walls in a secret code? You know you're forbid–
den to communicate with anyone.
SHELLEY : Yes....
PETER: Then wake up, get going!
(pulls her to her feet in a parody
of a dance routine -lightly, musically)
First make the bed. Yes,
like that. Yes. Tidy up the house. Yes,
this is
fine.
(looking about
at the mess)
This is what he's paying for, after
all.
Domestic life.
But you'd better start supper right away so that he can smell it
