Сияние

Night Thoughts

           Andshedidn’ttellJackthathermotheralwaysremadeDanny’sdiapers,frownedoverhisformula,couldalwaysspottheaccusatoryfirstsignsofarashonthebaby’sbottomorprivates.Hermotherneversaidanythingovertly,butthemessagecamethroughanyway:thepriceshehadbeguntopay(andmaybealwayswould)forthereconciliationwasthefeelingthatshewasaninadequatemother.Itwashermother’swayofkeepingthethumbscrewshandy.

           DuringthedaysWendywouldstayhomeandhousewife,feedingDannyhisbottlesinthesunwashedkitchenofthefour-roomsecond-storyapartment,playingherrecordsonthebatteredportablestereoshehadhadsincehighschool.Jackwouldcomehomeatthree(orattwoifhefelthecouldcuthislastclass),andwhileDannyslepthewouldleadherintothebedroomandfearsofinadequacywouldbeerased.

           Atnightwhileshetyped,hewoulddohiswritingandhisassignments.Inthosedaysshesometimescameoutofthebedroomwherethetypewriterwastofindbothofthemasleeponthestudiocouch,Jackwearingnothingbuthisunderpants,Dannysprawledcomfortablyonherhusband’schestwithhisthumbinhismouth.ShewouldputDannyinhiscrib,thenreadwhateverJackhadwrittenthatnightbeforewakinghimupenoughtocometobed.

           Thebestbed,thebestyear.

           Sungonnashineinmybackyardsomeday…

           Inthosedays,Jack’sdrinkinghadstillbeenwellinhand.

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