Mr. Bridge_ A Novel - Evan S. Connell [65]
He knew that eventually the hour would end forever. The network might run into financial problems, the show might be canceled for any number of reasons, or somebody might be hired to replace Nelson Eddy. And even if none of these things came to pass, still the hour would end because the children were growing up; they would spend their Sunday evenings elsewhere, so it would not be quite the same.
The first to become restless was Ruth. She examined her fingernails and sucked her lip. Then one evening she excused herself before the program was over, saying she wanted to visit Dodie.
After she left the room he remarked that she seemed to be losing interest in music; but Mrs. Bridge said no, quite the contrary, during the past few months Ruth had grown extremely fond of music. She was borrowing records from the school music department; she brought them home and played them in the afternoon, and she was talking about trying out for the chorus.
He asked what sort of records she brought home. Mrs. Bridge said they were classical. He asked why Ruth never played them in the evening when he was at home, and she replied that perhaps Ruth was afraid of disturbing him. Nonsense, he said, he would like to hear them. Mrs. Bridge said she would mention it.
When Mrs. Bridge told Ruth that her father would like to hear some classical music she became excited, and during the next few days she spent hours listening, trying to decide which records to play for him. Her mother reminded her that he seldom stayed up late because he went to work very early and he liked to read in bed for a little while before turning out the light. Because of this she ought not to play many records. If he asked for more, well, that was a different matter.
The following Sunday evening after “The Telephone Hour,” which concluded with a duet from The Merry Widow, Ruth began to play the records she had chosen.
Midway through “Calm Sea and Prosperous Voyage” Douglas got up and walked out.
During the opening bars of “Eine Kleine Nachtmusik” Carolyn walked out.
Mr. and Mrs. Bridge, doing their best to remain attentive, sat on the sofa like wax figures. They listened to the overture to Tristan. They listened to “E’ grave il sacrifizio.” Next came a sonata for two pianos. Mr. Bridge could take no more hammering. “The Telephone Hour” had been quite satisfying, but this music Ruth played not only bored him, which he could have endured, it picked at him. He had to restrain himself from striding to the phonograph and snapping it off. He placed his hands on his knees to indicate that he was ready to stand up and leave. Then he did stand up.
Ruth had been stretched out like a leopard on the carpet in front of the phonograph. When her father got to his feet she stiffened.
He paused a few seconds to show that he was still listening to the piano sonata. Then he said, “Well, folks, I’ve got a full day tomorrow, so I’d better say good night.”
Mrs. Bridge put on an expression of concern. “Oh, must you?”
He laughed. “Business before pleasure, unfortunately. And Julia expects me in the morning bright and early.”
“Yes, I suppose. You do need some sleep. Well, I’m sure Ruth doesn’t mind. Do you, dear?” she asked, smiling at Ruth.
Ruth pretended not to hear. She was turning a knob to adjust the tone.
He felt uncomfortable. He considered sitting down again, but this might make the situation worse. “Some night when I have time I’d like to hear more,” he said; but Ruth pretended to be unaware of anything except the music, so he affected a yawn, loosened his tie, and added, “Good night, all.”
“Good night,” Mrs. Bridge said. “I’ll be along as soon as this record is over. Unless, of course, Ruth has some others she’d like to play. I’m enjoying them so much.”
“Listen as long as you like,” he remarked affably.