A Death in the Family - James Agee [64]
“He was human, too. And He didn’t ask it. Nor was it asked of Him to ask it, no more are you. And no more should you. What was it He said, instead? The very next thing He said.”
“Father, into Thy hands I commend my spirit,” she said, taking her hands from her face and looking meekly at her aunt.
“Into Thy hands I commend my spirit,” her aunt said.
“There, dear,” her mother said, and Mary sat upright and looked straight ahead.
“Please don’t feel sorry, Andrew,” she said. “You’re right to tell me every last bit you know. I want to know—all of it. It was just—it just overwhelmed me for a minute.”
“I shouldn’t tell you so much all in a heap.”
“No, that’s better. Than to keep hearing—horrible little new things, just when you think you’ve heard the worst and are beginning to get used to it.”
“That’s right, Poll,” her father said.
“Now just go straight on telling me. Everything there is to tell. And if I do break down, why don’t reproach yourself. Remember I asked you. But I’ll try to not. I think I’ll be all right.”
“All right, Mary.”
“Good, Poll,” her father said. They all sat down again.
“And Andrew, if you’ll get it for me, I think I’d like some more whiskey.”
“Of course I will.” He had brought the bottle in; he took her glass to the table.
“Not quite so strong as last time, please. Pretty strong, but not so strong as that.”
“This all right?”
“A little more whiskey, please.”
“Certainly.”
“That looks all right.”
“You all right, Poll?” her father asked. “Isn’t going to your head too much?”
“It isn’t going anywhere so far as I can tell.”
“Good enough.”
“I think perhaps it would be best if we didn’t—prolong the discussion any further tonight,” Catherine said, in her most genteel manner; and she patted Mary’s knee.
They looked at her with astonishment and suddenly Mary and then Andrew began to laugh, and then Hannah began to laugh, and Joel said, “What’s up? What’s all the hee-hawing about?”
“It’s Mama,” Andrew shouted joyfully, and he and Hannah explained how she had suggested, in her most ladylike way, that they adjourn the discussion for the evening when all they were discussing was how much whiskey Mary could stand, and it was as if she meant that Mary was much too thirsty to wait out any more of it; and Joel gave a snort of amusement and then was caught into the contagion of this somewhat hysterical laughter, and they all roared, laughing their heads off, while Catherine sat there watching them, disapproving such levity at such a time, and unhappily suspecting that for some reason they were laughing at her; but in courtesy and reproof, and an expectation of hearing the joke, smiling and lifting her trumpet. But they paid no attention to her; they scarcely seemed to know she was there. They would quiet down now and then and moan and breathe deeply, and dry their eyes; then Mary would remember, and mimic, precisely the way her mother had patted her knee with her ringed hand, or Andrew would mimic her precise intonation as she said “prolong, ” or any of the four of them would roll over silently upon the tongue of the mind some particularly ticklish blend of the absurdity and horror and cruelty and relief, or would merely glance at Catherine with her smile and her trumpet, and would suddenly begin to bubble and then to spout with laughter, and another would be caught into the machinery, and then they would start all over again. Some of the time they deliberately strained for more laughter, or to prolong it, or to revive it if it had died, some of the time they tried just as hard to stop laughing or, having stopped, not to laugh any more. They found that on the whole they laughed even harder if they tried hard not to, so they came to favor that technique. They laughed until they were weak and their bellies ached. Then they were able to realize a little more clearly what a poor joke they had all been laughing at, and the very feebleness of the material and outrageous disproportion of their laughter started them whooping again; but finally they quieted down, because they had no strength