Her voice was sharp, a chord punctuated her words. Kate got out of bed in her nightgown and walked into the hallway, and came down the steps quietly. She sat on the third step from the bottom like a little girl, sleep in her eyes. There was a rained-in feeling to the house. She wondered why Parsie wasn’t making any noise in the kitchen, and then remembered Parsie’s little boy was sick, and her mother had sent her home last night for the weekend. She looked into the living room. Her father was stretched on the floor. The floor was covered with opened road maps. Lightning streaked outside again. She huddled in her own arms, suddenly frightened.
“Is something wrong, Amanda?” Matthew asked.
“Nothing’s wrong.”
“Then why the hell can’t we—?”
“Matthew, I don’t like swearing in the house!”
“Who the hell is—” He cut himself short and stared at her. “All right, Amanda, what is it?” he asked patiently.
“Nothing. I don’t want to look at road maps right now. I want to work. If you had any respect at all for what I’m trying to do, you’d take yourself out of here and—”
“Honey, we’re leaving on the fourth. I don’t want to sound—”
“I’m not even sure we’re leaving,” she said.
He stared at her silently.
“What do you mean?”
“I want to finish this by the end of the summer.”
“I know you do, honey. But if you don’t finish it by then, you’ll finish it in the fall. What’s so urgent about—?”
“I want to finish it this summer!” she said sharply.
She was sitting at the piano with her hands in her lap, not looking at him, staring down at the keyboard.
“Amanda, we’ll only be gone through July,” he said gently. “When you come back in August—”
“I can’t spare a whole month.”
“Well, why not?”
“Because I can’t, because I told you already, I want to finish this now, this summer, and I’ll need all summer if I’m ever going to—”
“I just can’t understand the rush, that’s all. You’ve been working on that damn thing for as long as I can remember, and now—”
“I told you I don’t like swearing in the house!”
“Oh, what the hell!” Matthew said angrily. “Now listen, Amanda. You just listen to me. I managed to take a month away from the office, I thought it would please you, I thought we could be alone together, and now you... well now, you just listen. We’re going away, and that’s all there is to it. You can begin work again when we get back. August is time enough.”
“No,” she said.
“Well, that’s the way I want it.”
“Well, that’s too bad.”
“Yes, you’re damned right it’s too bad, because that’s just the way it’s going to be.”
“Then you’ll go without me.”
“All right, then I’ll go without you!” he shouted. He stared at her angrily for a moment. Then he let out his breath and walked to the piano and took her hands in his, sitting beside her on the bench, and said, “Honey, I don’t want to go without you.”
“Then don’t.”
“Honey, we’d have a whole month together, just the two of us.”
“I can’t go this summer. I have to finish my work this summer.”
“Your work, your work,” he said, exploding again, “what’s so goddamn important, all of a sudden, about—”
She slapped him, suddenly and viciously. As Kate sat on the staircase, she saw her mother slap him, saw his head rock back with the blow and saw his fists tighten automatically and thought in that moment he would kill her. And then his hands loosened, and Kate sat in confusion watching his face, and watching her mother’s face gone suddenly cold as if he had said something terrible and unforgivable to her.
“All right,” Matthew said very quietly. “All right.” He rose from the bench and walked to where the road maps were spread on the floor. He folded them very quietly and very calmly, pushed them into a neat stack and picked them up, and then walked silently out of the living room. He walked past the hall steps without seeing his daughter. The door slammed when he left the house. A thunderclap ripped open the sky. Lightning flashed, there was more thunder, and then silence. She heard a car starting outside, and then heard the shriek of tires against the driveway gravel. The house was still for a very long time. She expected the music to start in the living room again. She sat on the steps, confused, and waited for her mother to begin playing again.
But Amanda sat at the piano staring at the keyboard with her hands in her lap, her face cold and expressionless, the rain streaking the window behind her.
She did not begin playing again.
Kate watched, waiting.
She wondered if she should go into the living room and say something to her. She had never seen her mother looking that way, and the sight frightened her. Stiff and cold, she sat motionless at the piano and stared at the keys, making no move to touch them. Kate rose slowly and started up the steps. When she reached her room, she lay on the bed and looked out at the rain, and waited for the music to begin again.
It did not begin.
Because Amanda knew.
Because she knew suddenly, or perhaps she had known all along, she knew as the argument with Matthew mounted, she knew as she tried to control her rising rage, knew as she felt her hands tightening, knew when her fury finally exploded against his cheek, knew that she would never, never finish the composition.
And, knowing this, was dead.
And sat dead at the piano and looked at the keyboard in despair. And knew it was false, all the years of false work on it, knew she would never finish it and never wanted to finish it, and sat dead inside because now there was nothing. Now there was nothing to hope for. And knew. Knew it wasn’t really very good, never had been any good, knew she would never be satisfied with it, and knew it would always be unfinished. Like her life.
Unfinished and incomplete.
And she didn’t know why.
But she sat dead at the piano and wondered what she needed, and hated Matthew for having made her realize suddenly she would not finish the suite. Lifelessly, she stared at the unresponsive keys, and wondered what was to become of her. And wished that her son were here with her, wished she had not sent him visiting today of all days when she needed visual proof that she had at least accomplished something in her lifetime. But she was alone.
In a little while, the rain stopped.
Kate was still in her nightgown when she came downstairs later that afternoon. She walked into the living room cautiously, almost as if she expected what was about to come. Amanda was sitting in an easy chair near the window, her face in calm repose. The sky beyond and outside had been torn apart by the wind. Tatters of clouds streaked the horizon, blue patches showed spasmodically, the day was indecisive, lacking the clean look or smell that usually follows a furious storm. The house was very still. Amanda sat in the chair and stared across the room at the piano, large and black in the opposite corner, silent.
“Mom?” Kate said.
Amanda looked up.
“Are you all right, Mom?”
“Yes. I’m fine.”
“Dad back yet?”
“No.”
Kate took a chair alongside her mother’s and pulled her legs up under her.
“I can see through that nightgown,” Amanda said. “Don’t you think you should wear a, robe around the house?”
“Well, there’s just the two of—”
“Put on a robe,” Amanda said.
“I’ll be getting dressed in a few minutes,” Kate said.
Amanda nodded once, briefly. She didn’t seem angry at all, or even irritated. Her face was absolutely calm. Kate looked at her face and tried to remember if it had always looked so calm, so... so lifeless. Suddenly, she could not remember.