The Curfew - Jesse Ball [32]
William draws in a deep breath. He continues.
—But, for you, I want it to change. One day you will be the only one of us three remaining, and then the world that includes us will be inside of you and nowhere else.
It is getting late in the evening. William tells Molly that he has to leave the house. He can’t really explain why. She tries to get him to, but he won’t. He has put on clothes that he rarely wears, clothes he used to wear. He looks extremely nervous. All this worries Molly immensely.
*But isn’t it dangerous? We never go out this late. Oh, don’t go. Don’t go.
—You mustn’t worry. I am the last of the great musicians.
(Does a flourish before the audience and bows.)
—All the rest have died. The government knows that. They can’t harm or kill me. It would mean the end for them. Although I have not performed now in years, people know me and what I stand for. Overnight, the people would rise up. Were I to die, the revolution would rise like a second sun and everything would be burned away. The police would never take me. They know what would happen. They’re too afraid. That’s why they didn’t kill us when they, when they killed your mother.
Molly blinks and holds the side of her dress very tight. She has always known how important her family is.
Nonetheless, she feels very proud right then and stands extremely straight.
*I am still worried, she says with her hands.
She follows him to the door. He opens it. Deep in the theater, through the door, the hallway can be seen and a door beyond. William is standing in front of that door and knocking. The wind blows the curtain of the room that Molly is standing in. She feels that she can hear a record player and a single violin, although she herself has never heard a violin, has never even seen a record player.
Now the stage is the hallway, and the door is opening. Molly comes onto the stage, beside her father. Her tail is twitching back and forth. She looks extremely small. Her father puts his arm around her. Mrs. Gibbons is on the other side of the door. Mrs. Gibbons welcomes Molly into her home. Mr. Gibbons is there also. They are an extremely kind old couple. Anyone can see that. Their house is warm and comfortable in a way that is impossible these days. It is a holdover from another time and when it disappears, even the knowledge of it will be gone.
Mrs. Gibbons is speaking to William:
—I will do this for you, said Mrs. Gibbons. You are a good father and I will do this for you and your daughter because she is very wonderful, a very wonderful young woman and I am always glad to have her here. There is always a place here in the house for a wonderful young woman who goes around with the name of Molly. But you must be careful, Mr. Drysdale, if you are going out at night, because I will tell you that Mr. Gibbons, who has just come home now this very moment, he told me that he saw a man dead not four streets over, and right in a crowd. So, you have a care.
—Is that really how I speak? Mrs. Gibbons asks Molly.
They are still beside each other in the first row.
Molly nods.
Onstage, the mouse stamps her foot.
*Be careful, she says to her father.
—Here is a key, says William, so you can put her to bed.
Mrs. Gibbons nods and closes the door. William is on the other side. He is now gone from the room. His footsteps can be heard and then they cannot.
Now Mr. Gibbons is welcoming Molly deeper into the apartment. He shows her the puppet theater, which is reproduced exactly, and is fully functional. He shows her all his materials, all his tools. He explains to her the rules of puppetry. They sit together plotting. Mrs. Gibbons brings a tray of food, which Molly devours.
In the room, Mrs. Gibbons has fallen asleep again. Molly is watching the stage desperately.
The play is drawing to a close. The little mouse is furiously writing. She is composing the play even as it occurs. Mr. Gibbons, bowed down with old feathers, is altering the puppets, is drawing the faces. He is painting the scenery. Everything is being prepared backwards, as his plan