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My music teacher offered twittering madrigals and something about how, in Italy, in Italy, the oranges hang on the tree. He treated me - the humiliation of it - as a soprano. These, by contrast, are the six elements of a Sacred Harp alto: rage, darkness, motherhood, earth, malice, and sex. Once you feel it, you can always do it. You know where to go for it, though it will cost you. ↗
That evening he plays with the children, cleans the hamster's cage with them, gets them into their pyjamas, and reads to them three times over, once together, then to Jake on his own, then to Naomi. It is at times like these that his life makes sense. How soothing it is, the scent of clean bedlinen and minty toothpaste breath, and his children's eagerness to hear the adventures of imaginary beings, and how touching, to watch the children's eyes grow heavy as they struggle to hang on to the priceless last minutes of their day, and finally fail. ↗
Before I can say I am, I was. Heraclitus and I, prophets of flux, know that the flux is composed of parts that imitate and repeat each other. Am or was, I am cumulative, too. I am everything I ever was, whatever you and Leah may think. I am much of what my parents and especially my grandparents were -- inherited stature, coloring, brains, bones (that part unfortunate), plus transmitted prejudices, culture, scruples, likings, moralities, and moral errors that I defend as if they were personal and not familial. ↗
I can't today," I said. "Maybe tomorrow?" "Can't tomorrow," said Quinn. "I have a family thing. I guess we're logistically star-crossed, Juliet." Sometimes Quinn calls me Juliet because of how we had to do that scene together, and whenever he does it's good for another bout of brain paralysis. So all I could manage back was "Oh." "But I'll talk to you later, okay?" he said. I didn't even try to say anything else but just nodded, wondering as I did what would happen next. The steps had largely emptied by then. But before I could do much wondering, Quinn's lips were on mine. And this time it definitely counted. ↗
As he looked around the huge ducal bed, he saw everything that meant the world to him. Outside the sky was darkening and the snow was falling. Through misty eyes, Matthew looked up, saw the moon glowing brilliantly and whispered, “thank you.” It was simple, but heartfelt. Never had a man been more grateful than that very moment when everything was utter perfection. With his family and his wife pressed up against him. ↗
Family myths are cherished by the people who--however unwittingly--have brought them into being. In my own situation, what my father was really saying to me during that last unfortunate phone call was that I had shattered our family's myth: the myth of a close and tight-knit family in which everyone was in complete agreement about everything, that is, in complete agreement with my father. I had violated one of the tenets of this myth in a way that was unforgivable to him. For that my punishment was to be expelled from the family. ↗
