desperation, Edith, I still have one standard: no chewing tobacco. Fortunately, that standard has ruled out all the single men in a four-county radius and has saved me a lot of trouble.”
The house seems warm and full tonight. For too long this house has had only the two of us in it, not a family. Such a huge house for just two people. For decades this house has felt as empty as my heart after the kids died. But tonight the room seems to glow with joy as I try to reconcile the bittersweet conflict of a perfect moment—that is, enjoying the perfection, yet knowing it’s not the nature of these moments to last. Perfect moments make me realize how fragile my life is, along with everything in it.
Finally Earl says, “All right. You’re a pro waltzer now. You’re ready to be courted. Come back next week for the fox-trot.”
As we walk her to the door, I hear the squeaky stair and figure Daniel was probably hiding on those stairs, peeking around the corner, and secretly watching the whole lesson. If I had a dollar for every time I heard that stair squeak during important conversations, especially when we had company, I’d be a rich woman.
“Thanks, Earl. Thanks, Edith. Good night!” Mara sings out as she walks out the back door.
“Good night, dear!” I call out to her.
I go back to the living room put on an old record of dance songs, and then go upstairs where I pluck wild roses out of the dried flower bouquet that sits on my bureau. I had dried them last spring, and now I stick them in my hair and return downstairs to Earl.
He understands, and we dance close. He sticks his nose in my hair while we waltz and waltz. And for the next forty minutes I feel as delicious as I did sixty-one years ago.
“I don’t tell you enough how much I love you,” he says.
“I know you love me,” I reply.
“No, there’s no way you could possibly know how much you mean to me. I should’ve been tellin’ you, showin’ you for years.” His hand slips more firmly onto the small of my back, and he gives me the most loving kiss I have ever known. Tears stream down my cheeks.
daniel
Before I go to bed, Grandpa knocks on my open door. “I . . . I . . .” Grandpa stammers. “Um, I . . . I just wanted to say how nice it is you’re here,” he manages to get out, although I don’t think it’s what he came up here to say. “I . . . um . . .” he starts again. I can tell he’s trying really hard to say something. His eyebrows are scrunched together the way they do whenever he’s struggling with something. “I . . . I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Thanks, Grandpa. It’s good to be here,” I say even though it is really not.
He gives me a smile and a wink and shuts my door. The door shutting was the worst sound in the world to me when I was a boy. And the stillness and silence that would follow took me back to the stillness and silence of my parents’ truck. No matter where I looked, no matter whether my eyes were open or closed, I could not stop seeing their bloody lifeless faces.
At once the feeling comes back, and I gasp for breath, trying not to panic more. I run to the window, wrestle with it until it opens, and stick my head out into the air. “It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay,” I whisper to myself just to hear noise. “It’s okay,” I whisper until I believe it. But I leave the window open just so I can hear the cattle and the crickets as I try to sleep in this haunted room.
I’m up on the barn roof where I didn’t want to be. “I’m gonna stay down here so I can call 911 if you need it!” Grandpa kids me from down below.
“You’re too kind!” I shout back.
“Hey, I told Whitey you’d go over and fix his barn roof when you were done here!”
“You didn’t!”
“Okay, I didn’t. But I sure had you goin’ there for a minute, didn’t I?” he responds.
I just laugh and finish tearing out the rotted wood.
As I climb down and land, he puts his hand on my shoulder, still sort of
The house seems warm and full tonight. For too long this house has had only the two of us in it, not a family. Such a huge house for just two people. For decades this house has felt as empty as my heart after the kids died. But tonight the room seems to glow with joy as I try to reconcile the bittersweet conflict of a perfect moment—that is, enjoying the perfection, yet knowing it’s not the nature of these moments to last. Perfect moments make me realize how fragile my life is, along with everything in it.
Finally Earl says, “All right. You’re a pro waltzer now. You’re ready to be courted. Come back next week for the fox-trot.”
As we walk her to the door, I hear the squeaky stair and figure Daniel was probably hiding on those stairs, peeking around the corner, and secretly watching the whole lesson. If I had a dollar for every time I heard that stair squeak during important conversations, especially when we had company, I’d be a rich woman.
“Thanks, Earl. Thanks, Edith. Good night!” Mara sings out as she walks out the back door.
“Good night, dear!” I call out to her.
I go back to the living room put on an old record of dance songs, and then go upstairs where I pluck wild roses out of the dried flower bouquet that sits on my bureau. I had dried them last spring, and now I stick them in my hair and return downstairs to Earl.
He understands, and we dance close. He sticks his nose in my hair while we waltz and waltz. And for the next forty minutes I feel as delicious as I did sixty-one years ago.
“I don’t tell you enough how much I love you,” he says.
“I know you love me,” I reply.
“No, there’s no way you could possibly know how much you mean to me. I should’ve been tellin’ you, showin’ you for years.” His hand slips more firmly onto the small of my back, and he gives me the most loving kiss I have ever known. Tears stream down my cheeks.
daniel
Before I go to bed, Grandpa knocks on my open door. “I . . . I . . .” Grandpa stammers. “Um, I . . . I just wanted to say how nice it is you’re here,” he manages to get out, although I don’t think it’s what he came up here to say. “I . . . um . . .” he starts again. I can tell he’s trying really hard to say something. His eyebrows are scrunched together the way they do whenever he’s struggling with something. “I . . . I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Thanks, Grandpa. It’s good to be here,” I say even though it is really not.
He gives me a smile and a wink and shuts my door. The door shutting was the worst sound in the world to me when I was a boy. And the stillness and silence that would follow took me back to the stillness and silence of my parents’ truck. No matter where I looked, no matter whether my eyes were open or closed, I could not stop seeing their bloody lifeless faces.
At once the feeling comes back, and I gasp for breath, trying not to panic more. I run to the window, wrestle with it until it opens, and stick my head out into the air. “It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay,” I whisper to myself just to hear noise. “It’s okay,” I whisper until I believe it. But I leave the window open just so I can hear the cattle and the crickets as I try to sleep in this haunted room.
I’m up on the barn roof where I didn’t want to be. “I’m gonna stay down here so I can call 911 if you need it!” Grandpa kids me from down below.
“You’re too kind!” I shout back.
“Hey, I told Whitey you’d go over and fix his barn roof when you were done here!”
“You didn’t!”
“Okay, I didn’t. But I sure had you goin’ there for a minute, didn’t I?” he responds.
I just laugh and finish tearing out the rotted wood.
As I climb down and land, he puts his hand on my shoulder, still sort of
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