Early Warning

“These eggs are overdone. Did you boil them by the timer? Are you sure? Oh, I’ll eat them anyway. Don’t worry about it. It’s fine. I’ll just have toast. The underside of the toast is too dark. Just one more piece, and watch it this time. Only a little butter. Yes, that’s enough. Well, just a smidgen more. I guess I’m not hungry after all.” How Paul could have possibly reminded Claire of Walter, Rosanna could not imagine.

Then: “What’s the temperature again? No, the outside temperature. Sixteen! Okay, I think Brad needs both the hat and the scarf, and be sure his mittens are pulled up under his sleeves, and then his sleeves pulled down. There was a child Herb Barker saw last week, his feet were frostbitten. Grayson, is your sweater buttoned? Show me! That’s a good boy. Sixteen degrees is sixteen below freezing. Can you count to sixteen? No, don’t use your fingers. Good boy.”

Rosanna could have ascended on billows of rage at the sound of his voice, so she scrunched down under the covers and put her fingers in her ears; she must have dozed off, because, the next thing she knew, Claire was standing over her, saying, “Are you hungry, Mama? I have your breakfast.”

Claire looked neat and clean, and she stood there like one of those maids no one in Iowa had, ready to obey orders.

It was as bad at supper — dinner, Paul called it. Claire was sent to get this and that: Gray dropped his fork, he needed a clean one; Brad’s bib was dirty from lunch; could she heat up the green beans, they were cold; this was butter; really, margarine was better. Chew each bite twenty times, Gray; don’t talk while eating, you could choke; you know what “choke” means? Get something caught in your throat and not be able to breathe — very dangerous. Brad, this is a bean. Say “bean”! A bean is very nutritious. Gray, say “nutritious”! That means “good for you.” Sit straight up in your chair. If you loll back, you are more likely to choke. That’s a good boy.

Claire said nothing. Rosanna imagined her sitting at her end of the table, eating between trips to the kitchen (Rosanna could hear her footsteps), smiling like she didn’t have a thought in her head, and so, the next day, Rosanna called Minnie and said, “Anything is better than this.” Minnie came and picked her up and took her home, where Joe set a bed up in the living room right across from the television. But she didn’t turn it on — she was grateful for every single moment of silence.

—

ANDY THOUGHT she had had a good session with Dr. Smith — just talking, very calm, a few fake dreams. They hadn’t practiced any Kama therapy in several weeks, because Dr. Smith was too busy with what he was writing to concentrate. And then the drive home was quite pleasant. When she pulled into the garage, she saw that both Frank’s and Nedra’s cars were gone, and she would be alone — also something to look forward to. She went up to her room, changed into shorts (it was quite warm for May), and entered the kitchen as the phone rang.

Normally, she would not have picked up, but she wasn’t thinking, and she was all the more sorry that she had when she heard Janet’s breathless voice. “I wanted to tell you before you heard on the news.”

“Heard what on the news?”

“We’re striking,” said Janet. “We’re not going to any classes, and I’m taking incompletes in all my courses. But also we’re marching on Washington. That’s the part you might see on the news. I could end up in jail. You don’t have to bail me out. I would rather stay.”

Andy felt her good mood slip away. She almost hung up right there, but then she said, sharply, “I don’t understand this at all. What are you protesting, Janet?”

“The murders at Kent State. Those kids were nowhere near the National Guard, and they were completely unarmed.”

Andy never watched the news, and she had tossed the morning paper on the hall table without looking at it. It wasn’t the first time she was maybe the last person in the United States to know about something — Dr. Smith never discussed “ephemeralities.” But Frank and Janet found her ignorance annoying, so Andy said, “Such a sad thing.”

“It’s worse than sad, Mom! Though Eileen told me her mom said those kids deserved what they got. Can you believe that? She’s a terrible Nixon-supporter. Eileen might disinherit herself.”

Andy didn’t know who Eileen was, either. She said, “Unarmed people who get shot never deserve it.” However, Andy thought, if they had any sense, they would expect it.

“Will you let me stay in jail if they arrest me?”

“Well, of course. But try not to get arrested.”

“I don’t know what to try,” said Janet. “Where’s Dad?”

“He’s in Frankfurt.” That, she made up.

There was a pause, and Andy began, “Are you—” But Janet had hung up. She’d meant to ask what Janet intended to do for the summer.