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Show Woodworth/22 the chapel. Her jaw drops open, and a garbled, indistinct, "Amen" falls out. She tries again, imagining the first time she was allowed to take the car out without her parents. Rachael laughing hysterically at her gear-grinding, screaming in mock horror, claiming near misses. Driving to Exeter to smuggle roast beef sandwiches, liver pate, and dope to Jake. The picture fades again, behind a fog, and she can hear her own voice saying over and over, "Jake is in the coffin, Jake is in the coffin, Jake is in the coffin," not knowing if that could really be true, not knowing if she should really believe, that. The unnatural silence of her family, the absurdity of the things they did say, and all the time, the voice saying over and over, "Jake is in the coffin. Jake is in the coffin." But she likeSto think of him singing in the boat, or lying across his bed, eating a roast beef sandwich. From the minute they walked back in the house, she knew that they were all going to pretend that nothing had changed. It felt different, but it looked the same. Her mother told them to change their clothes, and she began making dinner. The girls sat in front of the television, and the voice began saying that it wasn't true, Jake wasn't in the coffin. It it were true, they wouldn't be watching television, or her mother wouldn't be making dinner. They would all be doing something different. She didn't know what. But nothing had changed. She watched Ruth during dinner, the mechanical mouthfuls that were methodically chewed and swallowed. It seems like there is no one there, behind the skin and the bones. It is different. She wants to scream, cry, do anything to make her mother come back. To make Jake come back. To make her family come back. Cut. Spear. Chew. Swallow. Nothing has changed. .rrv."Marty whispers, turning her face to the ground. |
