Page 23 of And Still Her Voice
I nodded, and he yelled. “DeeDee!”
A young golden-haired girl appeared out of the dark. “Bring—what’s your name?”
“Anna.”
“Good to meet you, Anna. I’m Dilbert Moss, this here is DeeDee.”
DeeDee bowed like a blonde Geisha girl.
“Bring Anna here a sandwich and a cup of coffee. You drink coffee?”
“Yes.” I took a seat at one of the little tables and poured cream and sugar into my cup. DeeDee quickly returned to the table with my food. “Thank you.”
“So, I take it you’re not from around here. Where you staying?” Dilbert asked.
I stopped chewing and held up my index finger. “First things first. I need to find a job and then I can worry about finding a place.”
“How old are you?”
“Eighteen.” I took another bite and swallowed the lie.
He looked away as if considering something, then turned and peered at me. “You can work here.”
Practically inhaling the cheese sandwich, I thought of Oliver Twist.Please sir, may I have some more?
“And, you can take the room upstairs,” Dilbert said, following DeeDee. “It used to be Mother’s.”
The juices in my gut soured.I’d gone to seePsychowith Mom down at the Alexander Theater when I was way too young to be watching the likes of Bates and the exhumed corpse of his mother upstairs. Mamá had jumped up, squeezing my arm during that infamous shower scene. I’d calmed myself down, reminding myself it was only a movie.
“And this is real life, Anna. You can’t stay here,” Grandma whispered.
“But you’re the one who had to go and show off and play the piano. What was that all about?”
“That was a mistake.”
“Another one? Besides, isn’t this how you once supported yourself?”
I was confused and too exhausted to look for another place. “Grandma, you’re not always right about all your premonitions. After all, remember, you’re not clairvoyant.”
“True, but wisdom does give one a certain amount of transparent foresight necessary to make sure all escape routes are clear; to look at the best worst-case scenario, and the best,” Grandma whispered. “I’ve been around long enough to know that when I think something bad is going to happen, then it will.”
Dilbert returned. “Well, actually, you’d have to share the room with DeeDee.”
Relieved. I made the decision to try things out. In the meanwhile, I wouldn’t be taking any showers and I’d sleep with my knife under my pillow.
***
Around six-thirty, a few mornings later and just before the shop opened, while it was still dark, quiet, and empty, I sat at the keyboard practicing a new song I’d been hearing on the radio lately, the same one playing on the radio driving up with Ben and Betsy. I had no idea what the lyrics meant—something aboutturning cartwheels across the floorandsixteen vestal virgins leaving for the coast.I smelled the coffee brewing and then out of the corner of my eye, I saw Dilbert enter the room. I kept playing, hoping he’d leave me alone. He’d been creeping me out even more lately the way he’d slither past and brush up behind me with his fat jelly belly.And although my eyes were open, they mightjust as well have been closed.
“I like that. You have a good voice,” he said, and I felt his hands on my shoulders, squeezing like an accordion. “Do you like this?”
I shook him off and he backed away. I continued to play, my fingers trembling, the blood draining from my body as the memories filled in the fissures.
I’m eleven years old again, seated at the piano back at home. Mom had asked if I might audition for the church music director. “Be nice and remember to smile,” she says before disappearing into the kitchen. What does smiling have to do with playing piano?
I didn’t like how Mr. Fletcher sat so close to me on the piano bench. He set up the sheet music toHosanna. As I played, he reached up, ready to turn the page. I could smell his toilet breath as he let his hand fall into my lap and then quickly slid it further up in between my legs. “Do you like this, Anna?” he whispered. “Take your God damned hands off us!” Grandma screamed in black. I quickly scooted off the piano bench and landed on thefloor. I heard Mom in the kitchen, rattling pots and pans, but now she stopped. “Get out!” Grandma yelled, and Mr. Fletcher raised a hand to his mouth, obviously alarmed at the strange guttural tone of my voice. Staring at the kitchen door, he lowered his voice. “You tell anyone and I’ll say it’s you who has a crush on me. I’ll say you tried to kiss me!”What?I picked myself back up and took my place at the piano as he scurried like a sewer rat out the front door. Mom came back into the chamber room. “What did you do?” I wouldn’t end up getting to play for the church.
***
