Page 24 of And Still Her Voice
Dilbert pressed up against me and I could feel his hardness in the small of my back. Arching away, I stopped playing before pushing off from the piano, and turned to run. His body blocked mine. “Please let me pass.” He didn’t budge, but then over his shoulder, I could see a couple of customers just outside the door. “It’s time to open up,” I said, pointing to the front window. He turned to look and backed off.
Still in shock, my body spiraled one way, my head spun the other way. My heart pounded out the loudest key in the lowest octave of my body. Feeling suffocated, I opened the door and a gust of fresh air blasted me, not with any common sense, unfortunately, but with just enough oxygen to clear my head. I stepped out as all kinds of ideas ricocheted inside the walls of my skull, bruising Grandma’s hair-brained schemes. To bolt now would be to admit failure.
“Yes, run away!”Grandma shouted inside my ears.“What’s there to prove?”
I walked up the street and sat on the curb. Maybe I sent the wrong signals again, probably a miscommunication of some sort. I can fix this. I can handle it, I thought. Just in case, I reacheddown the inside of my boot and pulled out my knife. The weight of it felt so light, but the need to survive felt stronger and a power rose up from my toes. I stood up, ready to return to the shop.
“What would stabbing him solve?” Grandma asked.
“Well, I need this job to live and I’m not going to be a victim. I’ve done it before.”
“No, you haven’t.”
“Yes, I have. I stabbed Dad.”
“No, dear. That night you passed out.”
“I do remember seeing stars.”
“I did it,” Grandma said.
“You what!?”
I slumped down onto the curb to rest my forehead on my knees. I’d been having trouble putting the pieces together from that night, but honestly, my goal had been to just put it out of my mind and keep running. This news was a huge revelation. “How could you?” My anger mushroomed into nuclear bomb proportions. I sprang to my feet. “And, why didn’t you . . . when were you going to tell me? Do you even know . . . understand . . . Do you care what this has done to me? To my family? To Dad? Your son!”
“Anna, it’s not that easy.”
“What’s so difficult about telling the truth?” I yelled, pacing the sidewalk, pedestrians staring, but standing clear.
“Darling, here’s the truth. That night as you raised the knife—with no intention of using it—you lost consciousness when he fell on you, but I stared into his vacant eyes. He was out of his head. ‘Charley, stop’ I yelled. ‘I’m so sorry Mother,’ he cried. ‘Please kill me.’ I saw the pain in his soul, the same pain he’s had to endure his whole life. All because of my choices. I just wanted to keep him away from you and Teresa. But when he grabbed your throat, I had no choice but to plunge the knife into him, but it didn’t kill him. You didn’t kill him. You would never be able to do it.”
“But you could?”
“I know death.”
“Except when I took off running, you had me believe I did it. Why?”
“How would you explain to the police that it wasn’t you? That it was your Grandma, like your mother said. Besides, we all needed some space. I suppose it seemed refreshing and a bit thrilling to get out of that house for a bit. But as soon as you stuck your thumb out, I knew the canary could not be returned to her cage. I couldn’t have you believing you couldn’t take on that rogue in the van. And you did a fine job handling him.”
“So, you’ve let me believe the police are looking for me.”
“But they’re not, so we can go home. Your father knows it wasn’t you, darling.”
“Don’tdarlingme!”
I wanted to kill Grandma about now.
“So now you know the truth, let’s go home.”
***
More than an interloper, Grandma was dangerous enough to stab her own son. Who else? I wondered if there might have been other times that she’d used my body against my will. I mean, what else happened when I was asleep or scared out of my mind?
I shoved the knife back into my boot, turned around, and trekked toward the cafe. Knowing I hadn’t stabbed my father filled me with a weird, dizzy sort of joy mixed with anger, like I’d stepped off an emotional spinning carousel.
***
After a long day on my feet, I freshened up. If he made a move, I wouldn’t go inside myself this time. I wouldn’t run away. Nexttime I would speak up. I’d defend myself. I’d watched plenty of movies. What would my favoritefemme fataleslike Crawford or Stanwyck do? I put my apron on and stepped into the kitchen to start the coffee before taking my seat at the piano, with a smile.
