Inevitable and Only(63)

He took in the scene with one sweeping glance—the broken mirror, the book and pillow and bottles lying all over the floor. “Sweetie,” he said, “I’m here. Shhh. I’m here.” He went to her, where she was hunched on her bed, her face contorted and streaked with tears. She reached out for him and he wrapped his arms around her. “Shhhh,” he said, “shhhhh. Daddy’s here.”

I crept slowly back downstairs.

“What’s going on?” Mom said, meeting me at the bottom, her face pale.

“I think they need some time,” I said. My ears were ringing, my voice sounded like it was coming from someone else.

“Okay,” Mom said, nodding. “We’ll keep the food warm and … we’ll …”

I waited. We looked at each other.

“Josh!” she said, turning toward the kitchen. “What about some music?”

Everyone at the table was looking up at the ceiling, their eyes wide. They must’ve heard the crashing from down here.

Josh shook his head.

“Come on,” Mom coaxed. “How about your Bach?” To Ruby, Renata, and Raven, she said, “Wait till you hear Josh’s Bach. He’s way above his grade level, playing like a high schooler. We’re very excited to see the results of his competition in a couple weeks …” As she went on, talking faster and faster, I saw Josh shrivel in his chair.

“Hey, Mom,” I said, “that reminds me.” I went to the front hallway and fished in my backpack, which I’d dropped by the door after school. “I got this for you the other day.” I handed her the print from the American Visionary Art Museum. I hadn’t realized I was going to give it to her, but in the moment, it felt right.

Mom looked at the picture and her eyes softened. “Oh, mjia. Thank you. This is beautiful.”

“It reminded me of you,” I mumbled. “You and Josh.” I didn’t say, And you and Dad.

“Melissa!” Renata said brightly. “Why don’t you play us something?”

Ruby clapped her hands. “Yes, yes! Brilliant idea. We haven’t heard you play in ages, Melissa.”

“Oh, now,” Mom said. “That’s because I haven’t practiced in ages. I’m sure I’m as rusty as a bicycle left out in the rain.”

Renata and Ruby laughed.

“Mom, go ahead,” I said. “I’ll watch the food in the oven and make sure nothing burns.”

“Well …” She propped up my print against the vase of flowers in the middle of the table and went into the living room. We heard her moving milk crates around, shuffling through her sheet music. “How about some Mozart?” she called.

“Lovely!” said Ruby, and she and Renata, Raven, and Josh followed Mom into the living room. Mom warmed up with a few scales, then launched into a piece I remembered her playing a long time ago. She stumbled a few times, laughed, tried again a little slower. Soon she was picking up steam, and when she finished the Mozart she transitioned into something jazzier. I checked on the food and turned the oven temperature down, and then I went into the living room to listen, too.

By the time Dad and Elizabeth came back down, Mom was tearing up and down the keyboard. Raven and I were sitting on the couch, but Renata and Ruby had pushed the coffee table to the wall and were taking turns dancing with Josh, who was flushed but seemed to be enjoying himself.

Elizabeth’s face was puffy and swollen, and she didn’t make eye contact with anyone, but she appeared calmer. Dad stood still for a few moments, watching Mom from the bottom of the stairs, where she couldn’t see him. Then he walked to the piano and laid his hands gently on her shoulders. Mom jumped a little and laughed, tilting her face up to look at him.

“I think we’re ready to eat, although I’m sorry to interrupt this delightful concert,” he said. “Would you do us the honor of more music after dinner?”

Mom smiled at him—a real smile. “Seems my fingers still remember a thing or two.”

“I’ll say,” he said, then bent and—tentatively, I thought—dropped a kiss on her forehead. She didn’t kiss him back, but she didn’t push him away, either.

We filed into the kitchen and Dad served the food, and the rest of our Anti-Colonial Thanksgiving was pretty normal. As normal as an Anti-Colonial Thanksgiving can be, anyway. Afterward, Mom played more piano, and Dad danced with Ruby, Renata danced with Josh, and I danced with Raven. Elizabeth disappeared back upstairs, and Dad shook his head when I started to ask if someone should go check on her. “She needs some alone time,” he said quietly. But he didn’t scold me and Raven for talking about Elizabeth behind her back, so I had to assume that she hadn’t told him that part.

Mom played the piano for hours that night, even after the Woodburys left, and Dad sat on the living room couch and listened. The way she kept looking over at him, the way he smiled sometimes when she’d change to a new tune, as if it were an inside joke between them, some old memory—it felt like a private thing, somehow, so I left them alone. I didn’t want to go to my room either, with Elizabeth up there. So I took my laptop into the kitchen and watched a movie with my new headphones.

Elizabeth stayed upstairs for the rest of the evening, and when I finally went to bed that night, she was already asleep. Or pretending to be asleep. So I couldn’t try to apologize again.