Read Online A Little Night Music by Kathy Hitchens - Free Book Online
Authors: Kathy Hitchens
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female conspiracy against his happiness. We’re all bitches. Isn’t that right, Jon? Sent to take you down.”
Jon stood, hands slung low in his pockets. “Enjoy your school in Honduras. It’ll be amazing because of you.”
He walked away, down a flight of veranda steps, his retreating heels clicking against the concrete faster than her accelerating heartbeat. My God . He was the anonymous donor. That knowledge, along with a swarm of anxiety in her chest, I might never see him again , spilled out into one truth she could no longer contain.
“I don’t know who you really are, Jon,” she said, loud enough for him to hear. She hated how her throat twisted the words into something needy and desperate, like a woman holding on to something that had never been hers.
Almost at the grass, he paused and turned. There was no anger in his eyes, only sadness.
“That makes two of us.”
Jon slipped into the darkness of the west garden and disappeared into the night.
Elli wrapped her arm around the Greek statue beside her, still warm from the sun. She found it hard to balance and her body had grown stone cold on this hottest of summer nights.
Five
“There’s a boy at school. He pickin’ on me.”
Elephant sat beside Jon on the fire escape. It was the first day she had returned since she fled in the green dress. When he asked, she had shrugged and changed the subject to butterflies.
“Want me to beat him up?”
Elephant squinted up at him, half-giggling, half-assessing his seriousness. Her crooked, too-big teeth poked out of her full lips. “You’d do that?”
“Sure. Anyone picks on my girl.” Jon winked for good measure.
“He threw tomatoes at me. The big juicy kind that makes good gumbo.”
“What did you do?”
“I hugged him.”
Sweet tea slid down Jon’s windpipe. He choked and said, “You didn’t.”
“I did. He went home wearin’ as much tomato as me.” Elephant fiddled with the fastener on her loafers. “Boys are stupid.”
Jon took a deep drag of stifling city air into his lungs and felt its crass thickness all the way to his crossed ankles. “Yes, we are.”
“Why’d he do it?”
Jon considered the intricacies of the question and tried to find the seven-year-old answer to a universal male shortcoming.
“Boys don’t always know the best way to tell a girl how they feel.”
She seemed satisfied with the answer until she added, “Did you ever throw tomatoes at a girl, Mr. Jon?”
Does last night count?
“No. Not tomatoes.”
“Frogs?”
Jon laughed. “No.”
“Then you’re one of the good ones.” Elephant again took the spray of tiny white flowers from her hair and placed it in his shirt pocket. Jon could have set his clock by it, her daily offering for his playing. He pressed every one of them into his wallet to keep.
He thought for a moment that he would gladly trade every dollar he owned to have a white flower each day for the rest of his life. But then he remembered, flowers die. Nothing lasts forever.
****
On a break at The Lotus that night, Jon threaded his way to the bar. Gabe had a tall glass of ice water ready for him before Jon’s boot heels hooked onto a bar stool and screamed thank you! thank you ! for a rest from the longest Friday night set to date. Gabe’s gaze lifted past Jon’s shoulder as Jon felt someone bump him.
Jon turned to see the guy who had held Elli’s hand at Modesta Gardens. He wore one of those fine silk shirts that showed every wrinkle but there were none.
“Nice playing, man.”
“Thanks.” Jon took a sip and waited for the ice to cool the hot tongue he longed to unleash. He couldn’t tell if the guy was genuine or not, but he’d bet every ounce of tonight’s water supply that the guy wasn’t here to appreciate the wide range of jazz The Lotus offered. “Man.”
Gabe backed away,
Jon stood, hands slung low in his pockets. “Enjoy your school in Honduras. It’ll be amazing because of you.”
He walked away, down a flight of veranda steps, his retreating heels clicking against the concrete faster than her accelerating heartbeat. My God . He was the anonymous donor. That knowledge, along with a swarm of anxiety in her chest, I might never see him again , spilled out into one truth she could no longer contain.
“I don’t know who you really are, Jon,” she said, loud enough for him to hear. She hated how her throat twisted the words into something needy and desperate, like a woman holding on to something that had never been hers.
Almost at the grass, he paused and turned. There was no anger in his eyes, only sadness.
“That makes two of us.”
Jon slipped into the darkness of the west garden and disappeared into the night.
Elli wrapped her arm around the Greek statue beside her, still warm from the sun. She found it hard to balance and her body had grown stone cold on this hottest of summer nights.
Five
“There’s a boy at school. He pickin’ on me.”
Elephant sat beside Jon on the fire escape. It was the first day she had returned since she fled in the green dress. When he asked, she had shrugged and changed the subject to butterflies.
“Want me to beat him up?”
Elephant squinted up at him, half-giggling, half-assessing his seriousness. Her crooked, too-big teeth poked out of her full lips. “You’d do that?”
“Sure. Anyone picks on my girl.” Jon winked for good measure.
“He threw tomatoes at me. The big juicy kind that makes good gumbo.”
“What did you do?”
“I hugged him.”
Sweet tea slid down Jon’s windpipe. He choked and said, “You didn’t.”
“I did. He went home wearin’ as much tomato as me.” Elephant fiddled with the fastener on her loafers. “Boys are stupid.”
Jon took a deep drag of stifling city air into his lungs and felt its crass thickness all the way to his crossed ankles. “Yes, we are.”
“Why’d he do it?”
Jon considered the intricacies of the question and tried to find the seven-year-old answer to a universal male shortcoming.
“Boys don’t always know the best way to tell a girl how they feel.”
She seemed satisfied with the answer until she added, “Did you ever throw tomatoes at a girl, Mr. Jon?”
Does last night count?
“No. Not tomatoes.”
“Frogs?”
Jon laughed. “No.”
“Then you’re one of the good ones.” Elephant again took the spray of tiny white flowers from her hair and placed it in his shirt pocket. Jon could have set his clock by it, her daily offering for his playing. He pressed every one of them into his wallet to keep.
He thought for a moment that he would gladly trade every dollar he owned to have a white flower each day for the rest of his life. But then he remembered, flowers die. Nothing lasts forever.
****
On a break at The Lotus that night, Jon threaded his way to the bar. Gabe had a tall glass of ice water ready for him before Jon’s boot heels hooked onto a bar stool and screamed thank you! thank you ! for a rest from the longest Friday night set to date. Gabe’s gaze lifted past Jon’s shoulder as Jon felt someone bump him.
Jon turned to see the guy who had held Elli’s hand at Modesta Gardens. He wore one of those fine silk shirts that showed every wrinkle but there were none.
“Nice playing, man.”
“Thanks.” Jon took a sip and waited for the ice to cool the hot tongue he longed to unleash. He couldn’t tell if the guy was genuine or not, but he’d bet every ounce of tonight’s water supply that the guy wasn’t here to appreciate the wide range of jazz The Lotus offered. “Man.”
Gabe backed away,
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