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Show 14-6 rows, their wheelchairs, stretchers and chairs arching around the patio where Father and I had our lunch that first day. On the patio itself stood a grand piano, its lid propped up, looking like a great black swan ruffling its wings. The men were talking quietly, making more sound than I had ever heard from them before. The quiet, still hospital air had taken on the vibrancy of the concert hall I remembered from the evenings I had gone with my parents to hear the symphony play. Mother climbed slowly out of the car and stood for a moment looking across the driveway at the men. Father watched her, his hand on the open car door. After a moment, she glanced down at the music she held in her arms, looked across the hood of the car at him, and said, "Well, no turning back now. It looks like we're expected." Arid she turned and walked across the lawn, her satin skirt swinging about her in the deepening evening light. Father and I followed her. I was looking for Andrew, sure he would be there. And he was, leaning up against the open door to the patio silhouetted against the bright light from inside the hospital. He called out to me and waved his cigarette. Mother and Father had stopped to talk to a group of men. As I came up to his side, I saw that Andrew was in uniform. I had never seen it before. "Quite an evening. We should have sold tickets." I couldn't see Andrew's face against the glowing window but I could tell from his voice that he was laughing. He looked so different, so much older standing there in his uniform. "You look different. I like your uniform." "Real fancy, huh? You look real swell too. Where's your bookbag?" He turned to sit on the ledge around the patio and the light fell full on his face and uniform. |
