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Show Moon -157 It was their first Christmas in the States after Manila. James had bought a house in Bethesda, a fashionable commute for him, an excellent high school for Caleb's senior year. It was a nice enough house, except that it had stairs, which Anne could barely manage. Joy had flown from New York to be with them for Christmas. Anne thought that her daughter looked unhappy and wondered if she was sorry she hadn't married Mark. Anne sat on the sofa, surrounded by a tumble of opened gifts, crumpled paper and ribbons. She took a deep breath and shot a look at Joy, who would, she hoped, be a help for what she was about to do. She lifted up the black nightgown James had given her and she would never wear, lifted it out of its nest of pink tissue paper, grabbed it by the lacy bottom and, with hands swift and sharp as hawks, she tore. This was drastic, but effect was what she was after, some way to get their attention, unlike her usual attempts to get, simply attention. A subtle distinction, you say, but one (getting their attention) is for ) grownups, the other (getting attention) for children, and she realized that this was her great unhappiness: that she was treated like a child, and worse, that such treatment was what she must have asked for. One would generally say that pulling a tablecloth off the table, especially when it is laden with plates and food, is childish. But the memory of doing this flashed to her just then as the sort of thing she should have done more often. There was a clarity to it. There was a clarity now, which, while it lasted, she would enjoy completely. She had their attention. She posed a moment, a portion of black nightgown in each upraised hand. "It's time. I'm ready," she said. She shook |
