Just before we got there I woke everybody up. I asked if they’d all had a good night’s sleep. It was an inconsequential little town with a nice feel to it. We drove through it slowly. Eddie leaned over to show me where to go, and the girls checked their faces in their little mirrors.
It was dark. The streets were wide and clean. Most of the buildings were less than three stories high; it made you feel like you could breathe a little. Eddie motioned for me to stop. We pulled over in front of a piano store. He touched my shoulder.
“She sold pianos,” he said.
I turned around to face him.
“My God,” he added.
We went up to the second floor. I pulled up the rear. The stairway never ended, and the flowered wallpaper made my head spin. There were a few people in the room. I couldn’t see too well because of the dimness-there was maybe one lamp lit, in the corner. They all stood up when they saw Eddie, took his hands and kissed him, saying things in low voices, looking at us over their shoulders. They seemed to be familiar with death. Eddie introduced everyone but I didn’t try to understand who was who, or who I was-I just smiled. The minute I’d parked, I felt how tired I really was. Now I had to try and maneuver a three-hundred pound body around. I didn’t dare lift an arm-I knew it would make me cry.
When everyone went into the room where the wake was, I just followed along without thinking, dragging my heels. I couldn’t see anything, because Eddie threw himself at the bed and his shoulders blocked my view. All I saw were two feet sticking out from under the sheets, like stalagmites. He started crying again. I yawned without meaning to, putting my hand over my mouth just in time. A woman turned around. I closed my eyes.
By chance, I happened to be standing behind everybody else. I backed up a few steps to the edge of the room and leaned myself against the wall, my head down and arms crossed. It felt pretty good and no longer had to struggle to keep my balance. All I had to do was push a little with my legs and everything fell right into place. I heard a slight breathing sound close to me.
I saw myself on the beach in the middle of the night, both feet in the water. I was squinting into the moonlight, when an immense black wave welled up from who knows where, stretching up to the sky with a frothy fringe on top like an army of snakes standing on their tails. It seemed to stand still for a moment, then came crashing down on my head with an icy hiss. I opened my eyes. I’d fallen over a chair on my face. My elbow hurt. The others turned toward me, scowling. I gave Eddie a lost look.
“Sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean to do that…”
He motioned to me that he understood. I stood up and walked out, closing the door softly behind me. I went down to the car to get cigarettes. It wasn’t too cold out, nothing to compare to what it was like three hundred fifty miles north of there. I lit up and took a little walk with Bongo down the street. There wasn’t a soul-no one to see me shuffling along like an old grandma worried about breaking her hipbone.
I went down to the corner. I tossed my cigarette over the sidewalk in front of me, into the void, then came back. I had to admit that Betty had been right for once: a little change of scene can do you good. To me, it seemed like a great idea, mostly because it allowed us to leave our little bundle of woe behind us, if only for a day or two. It amazed me just then to think that. I was surprised at the bitterness I felt looking back on the life that had begun when Betty set fire to the bungalow. It’s true that every day hadn’t been a bundle of laughs, but there were plenty of good times and no one with half a brain could have asked for more than that. No, it was obviously my book that had given our life this strange taste, colored it this vague shade of purple. And if closing the door behind you and hopping in the car was all it took to start over again? Wouldn’t life be better then? A little easier? At that precise moment I was almost ready to try it-to grab Betty by the shoulders and say, Okay, sweetheart, we’re going to go on to something else now-no more pizza, no more city, no more book…Are you with me?
These were pleasant thoughts to have, going back up the calm, wide street. If only for these images the trip was worth it. I saw it all so clearly that I didn’t even think about the drive home. Had I thought about it, I would have washed out right then and there, but the patron saint of those who dream watched over me-no dark thoughts came to roost. Far from it: Betty and I, settled there in the town, not wanting to hear any more about some stupid manuscript-finally able to wake up in the morning without looking anxiously in the mailbox… good times and bad times, nothing more. This was the kind of thing that made me smile like a kid again as I walked back into the building, all of it melting slowly in my mouth.
I climbed back up the stairway to the second floor, finding it even tougher going than the first time. I used the banister-I wasn’t proud. The room was empty. They must have all still been in the little bedroom-stuffed in there around the corpse. I didn’t see any reason to bother them. I sat down. I poured myself a glass of water. I tipped the pitcher, I didn’t lift it. With any luck they’d stay in there all night with her, no one to worry whether I was sleepy or not. I had the vague feeling that they’d already forgotten me. There was a curtain at the end of the living room. I stared at it for at least ten minutes, my eyes squinting, trying to uncover its secret. Finally I stood up and went over to it.
There was a stairway there that went down into the store. I must have been off my rocker that night. I must have fallen victim to some morbid attraction to stairs, going up and down, puffing like the damned. I went down.
I found myself among the pianos. They gleamed in the light that came from the street, like black stones under a waterfall. There was no sound at all-they were silent pianos. I chose one at random and sat down in front of it. I opened the keyboard. Luckily there was a place at the end of the keyboard where you could put your elbow down. I did. I put my chin in my hand. I looked at all the keys lined up. I yawned a little.
It was not the first time I’d found myself at a piano. I knew how to play, and though I’d never attained the heights of greatness, I could pick out a little tune with three fingers, choosing a slowish tempo and a minimum of light. I began by playing a C. I listened to it attentively and followed it around the store with my eyes, not losing it for a second. When the silence returned, I started again. To me, this was one hell of a piano. It had understood what kind of piano player I was, and yet had given me its all, the best of itself. It was nice to come across a piano that had found The Way.
I shifted into a simple number that allowed me to maintain my style as well as a relatively comfortable position, slumped over the side with my head in my hand. I played slowly, doing the best I could, and little by little I stopped thinking about anything. I just watched my hand-the tendons rolling around under the skin when I pushed my fingers down. I stayed there doing that for a long time, my little tune repeating itself over and over. It was as if I could no longer do without it, as if I played it better each time, as if this little nothing of a song had the power to enrich my soul. But I was in such a state of exhaustion that I would have mistaken a glowworm for the divine light. I was beginning to have hallucinations. From then on things started deteriorating.
I had started humming my delicious little melody and I was getting a giant-sized kick out of it. It was unreal-so unreal that I thought I heard the chords that went with it, clearer and clearer. It made me so happy to be alive that any strength started to come back. I got excited. Forgetting where I was, I turned up the volume and sang louder and louder. I was able to do with three fingers what normal people need two hands for. It was simply magnificent. I started to feel hot. I had never in my life had such rapport with a piano. I’d never been able to play anything like that before. When I heard a girl’s voice mingle with my own, I said to myself, That’s it, an angel has come down from Heaven to pull me up by the hair.