A Death in the Family - James Agee [15]
“What a heavenly night, Jay,” she said in the voice which was dearest to him. “I almost wish I could come with you”—she remembered more clearly “—in whatever happens.”
“I wish you could, dear,” he said, though his mind had not been on such a possibility; frankly, he had suddenly looked forward to the solitary drive. But now the peculiar quality of her voice reached him and he said, with love, “I wish you could.”
They stood bemused by the darkness.
“Well, Jay,” she said abruptly, “I mustn’t keep you.”
He was silent a moment. “Nope,” he said, a curious, weary sadness in his voice. “Time to go.”
He took her in his arms, leaning back to look at her. It was not really anything of a separation, yet he was surprised to find that it seemed to him a grave one, perhaps because his business was grave, or because of the solemn hour. He saw this in her face as well, and almost wished they had waked the children after all.
“Good-bye, Mary,” he said.
“Good-bye, Jay.”
They kissed, and her head settled for a moment against him. He stroked her hair. “I’ll let you know,” he said, “quick as I can, if it’s serious.”
“I pray it won’t be, Jay.”
“Well, we can only hope.” The moment of full tenderness between them was dissolved in their thought, but he continued gently to stroke the round back of her head.
“Give all my love to your mother. Tell her they’re both in my thoughts and wishes—constantly. And your father, of course, if he’s—well enough to talk to.”
“Sure, dear.”
“And take care of yourself.”
“Sure.”
He patted her back and they parted.
“Then I’ll hear from you—see you—very soon.”
“That’s right.”
“All right, Jay.” She squeezed his arm. He kissed her, just beneath the eye, and realized her disappointed lips; they smiled, and he kissed her heartily on the mouth. In a glimmer of gaiety, both were on the verge of parting with their customary morning farewell, she singing, “Good-bye John, don’t stay long,” he singing back, “I’ll be back in a week or two,” but both thought better of it.
“All right, dear. Good-bye.”
“Good-bye, my dear.”
He turned abruptly at the bottom of the steps. “Hey,” he whispered. “How’s your money?”
She thought rapidly. “All right, thank you.”
“Tell the children good-bye for me. Tell them I’ll see them tonight.”
“I better not promise that, had I?” “No, but probably. And Mary: I hope I can make supper, but don’t wait it.”
“All right.”
“Good night.”
“Good night.” He walked back towards the barn. In the middle of the yard he turned and whispered loudly, “And you think it over about your birthday.”
“Thank you, Jay. All right. Thank you.”
She could hear him walking as quietly as possible on the cinders. He silently lifted and set aside the bar of the door, and opened the door, taking care to be quiet. The first leaf squealed; the second, which was usually worse, was perfectly still. Stepping to the left of the car, and assuming the serious position of stealth which the narrowness of the garage made necessary, he disappeared into the absolute darkness.
She knew he would try not to wake the neighbors and the children; and that it was impossible to start the auto quietly. She waited with sympathy and amusement, and with habituated dread of his fury and of the profanity she was sure would ensue, spoken or unspoken.
Uhgh—hy uh yu hy why uhy uh: wheek-uh-wheek-uh:
Ughh—hy wh yuh: wheek:
(now the nearly noiseless, desperate adjustments of spark and throttle and choke)
Ughgh—hyuh yuhyuh wheek yuh yuh wheek wheek wheek yuh yuhyuh: wheek:
(which she never understood and, from where she stayed now, could predict so well):
Ughgh—Ughgh—ynhyuhUgh wheek yuh yuh Ughgh yuh wheek wheek yuhyuh: wheek wheek: uh:
(like a hideous, horribly constipated great brute of a beast: like a lunatic sobbing: like a mouse being tortured):
Ughgh—Ughgh—Ughgh (Poor thing, he must be simply furious) Ughgh—wheek—Whughughyuh—Ughwheekyuhuughgyughyuhyuhy aaaaaaahhhhhhRhRhRHRHRH (oh, stop it!) RHRH(a window went up) RHRHRHRHRHRyuhyhhRRHRHRHRHRHRHRHRHRHRH