OCR Text |
Show All the Variables & Other Love Stories 94 Lindsay washed her hands in the bathroom while Anthony and Kell stood aside with their hands on their hips. She gave Kell a big hug but told him he'd have to wait since it was now Anthony's turn. "I don't want to take advantage of you," Anthony protested. Lindsay giggled and reached for him and said, "No one can take advantage of me unless I let them," but Anthony ran from the room hysterical with grief. Lindsay shrugged, said, "Not very grindcore, is he?" and locked the door. She and Kell sat on the bedside holding hands. Kell stroked the hairs on the back of her wrist and said, "How's your dad?" "He's getting out next week," Lindsay whispered. "You know you don't have to see him. If you don't want. You never have to be with him again." "Yes," Lindsay sighed, "I do." She asked him to talk to her, whatever he wanted to tell her about, she just wanted to close her eyes and hear his voice. He told her about how Rachmaninoff had married his first cousin, and how the Bolsheviks had driven him into exile, and how the rest of his life he'd longed for Russia and his family estate at Ivanova and a time in his life he knew he could never return to. Kell told her how disenchanted with modem music Rachmaninoff had been, that he'd complained the new music had come too much from the head and not at all from the heart, and how, try as he might, Rachmaninoff could never bring himself to write music except with the single intention of bringing something beautiful into the world. Kell talked until Lindsay fell asleep. Dawn pressed pink as |