Death In The Family, A - James Agee [46]
“Yes indeed.”
“But I guess it’s just as well to wait till we hear from Andrew, not—create any needless disturbance, I guess. After all, it’s very possible he’ll have to be taken straight to a hospital. The man did say it was serious, after all.”
“I think you’re wise to wait,” Hannah said.
“How’s that water?” Mary twisted in her chair to see. “Sakes alive, the watched pot.” She got up and stuffed in more kindling, and brought down the box of tea. “I don’t knows I really want any tea, anyway, but I think it’s a good idea to drink something warm while we’re waiting, don’t you?”
“I’d like some,” said Hannah, who wanted nothing.
“Good, then we’ll have some. Just as soon as the water’s ready.” She sat down again. “I thought one light blanket would be enough on a night like this but I’ve another over the foot of the bed in case it should turn cool.”
“That should be sufficient.”
“Goodness knows,” Mary said, vaguely, and became silent. She looked at her hands, which lay loosely clasped on the table. Hannah found that she was watching Mary closely. In shame, she focused her sad eyes a little away from her. She wondered. It was probably better for her not to face it if she could help until it had to be faced. If it had to be. Just quiet, she said to herself. Just be quiet.
“You know,” Mary said slowly, “the queerest thing.” She began slowly to turn and rub her clasped fingers among each other. Hannah waited. “When the man phoned,” she said, gazing quietly upon her moving fingers, “and said Jay had been in a—serious accident”; and now Hannah realized that Mary was looking at her, and met her brilliant gray eyes; “I felt it just as certainly as I’m sitting here now, ‘It’s his head.’ What do you think of that?” she asked, almost proudly.
Hannah looked away. What’s one to say, she wondered. Yet Mary had spoken with such conviction that she herself was half convinced. She looked into an image of still water, clear and very deep, and even though it was dark, and she had not seen so clearly since her girlhood, she could see sand and twigs and dead leaves at the bottom of the water. She drew a deep breath and let it out in a long slow sigh and clucked her tongue once. “We never know,” she murmured.
“Of course we just have to wait,” Mary said, after a long silence.
“Hyesss,” Hannah said softly, sharply inhaling the first of the word, and trailing the sibilant to a hair.
Through their deep silence, at length, they began to be aware of the stumbling crackle of the water. When Mary got up for it, it had boiled half away.
“There’s still plenty for two cups,” she said, and prepared the strainer and poured them, and put on more water. She lifted the lid of the large kettle. Its sides, below the water line, were rich beaded; from the bottom sprang a leisured spiral of bubbles so small they resembled white sand; the surface of the water slowly circled upon itself. She wondered what the water might possibly be good for.
“Just in case,” she murmured.
Hannah decided not to ask her what she had said.
“There’s ZuZus,” Mary said, and got them from the cupboard. “Or would you like bread and butter? Or toast. I could toast some.”
“Just tea, thank you.”
“Help yourself to sugar and milk. Or lemon? Let’s see, do I have le ...”
“Milk, thank you.”
“Me too.” Mary sat down again. “My, it’s frightfully hot in here!” She got up and opened the door to the porch, and sat down again.
“I wonder what ti ...” She glanced over her shoulder at the kitchen clock. “What time did they leave, do you know?”
“Walter came for us at quarter after ten. About twenty-five after, I should think.”
“Let’s see, Walter drives pretty fast, though not so fast as Jay, but he’d be driving faster than usual tonight, and it’s just over twelve miles. That would be, supposing he goes thirty miles an hour, that’s twelve miles in, let’s see, six times four is twenty-four, six times five’s thirty, twice twelve is twenty-four, sakes alive, I was always dreadful at arithmetic ...”