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Show 20-8 Mother lifted her hair from her neck arid wound it about her head. She must not have had any pins because she leaned her head on her hand, holding her heavy hair in place. Ruth looked at me, still rocking. I looked back at the street and wondered when Father would be home. "Ruth, I am so angry." Mother's voice again. "I am so angry at all this. It's been going on for years and is still going on." She dropped her hair and it tumbled around her shoulders. "Eric was . . . of all people to just be . . ." Mother waved her hands in front of her. "Gone. His mind gone. I can't . . . accept . . . it . . . any . . . more." With each word she pounded her fist on the arm of the swing. "Katherine, it's not new. You've faced this before. With Paul. And all the others. Why is this so different?" "I don't know. I guess because I felt I was helping him, that music was enough, that it would heal his wounds. How bad could they be anyway? He looked so good, better than he had before. So much better than all the others." They both looked at me. Andrew's face stood before us all. No, Eric had not been as bad. "Maybe, before I had accepted too much, too willingly. But, i t ' s not over, even though the war i s ." "Can't you l e t i t be?" "How? I won't let it be. If it's not for them, it can't be for me." "Kate, be careful. You always are so, what do I say, so strong when you feel deeply." My mother turned to look at Ruth. "Just be careful. Remember not to hurt more than you help." Mother sat back against the porch swing and then put her arm around Ruth. "Ruth, my metronome. Keeping me steady. If I didn't have you, and Larry, and Annie, I'd probably turn into Saint Joan." |