A Sudden Light: A Novel Read Online Free PDF

Serena made one comment and myfather shaved. Which proved my theory that my mother let my father keep his beard so she could feel physically repulsed when she looked at him, and that he never really cared about his beard and would have been happy to shave it off had she said something. My father had no idea he was complicit in his own demise.
    He looked years younger without his beard: his skin was pale where the bushy hair had been, yet his cheeks and forehead and ears were tan, creating something of a raccoon effect. Sitting there like that, with his starched white shirt and his hair combed and wet from the shower, he looked like a kid. I felt bad for him. I felt like I’d come to his room to bring him to the grown-up table. Or the gas chamber.
    I tried to make a joke out of it, so I said, “Any last words?” and he literally started trembling.
    He stood up and took a deep breath, put his arm around my shoulder, and walked us both out into the hall.
    “Promise you’ll make a lot of jokes at dinner,” he said. “Because I feel like I’m going to vomit.”
    I didn’t know anything about my father’s relationship with my grandfather. Grandpa Samuel had been so absent from my life up to that point, it was like he was dead. Rarely spoken about. Never spoken to. Not a single photo of him, or anybody else in my father’s family, for that matter. It never occurred to me to wonder. But then, my father was a mystery to me as well. We hardly did anything together in those days, and, when we did, we didn’t talk a lot. Sometimes he would start to tell me something about his childhood, but then he would stop in the middle of the story, as if he didn’t want to remember it. Like he had closed the door on that part of his life and didn’t want to open it again.
    I helped him down to the kitchen (I really thought his legs would have collapsed if I hadn’t been there to help him with the stairs), and Serena and Grandpa Samuel looked up.
    “Oh, don’t you look nice!” Serena said cheerfully. “I knew there was a face under that tangled mess. Daddy? Look who’s here. It’s Brother Jones!”
    Grandpa Samuel and my father regarded each other cautiously.
    “Hello, Dad,” my father said.
    “Hello, Son,” Grandpa Samuel said with a perfunctory nod, not even lifting his eyes.
    “I love these warm and fuzzy reunions!” Serena chirped. “Now try not to get all mushy, boys. There’s plenty of time to catch up! Sit, Jones. Join us.”
    We took our seats and food was passed around and nobody said a word. Dead silence. There was gesturing and smiling and nodding, all very polite. There was chewing and swallowing and drinking. Dabbing of napkins to corners of mouths. Otherwise, total silence except for the fan.
    Finally, Grandpa Samuel leaned over to me and whispered, “Pass me some of that watermelon.” When I handed over the platter, I realized my grandfather didn’t have all of his fingers on his left hand. He was missing his entire forefinger, as well as his middle finger above the second knuckle.
    “Dickie called to say he got caught up,” Serena announced abruptly, indicating the empty place setting I had noticed but was afraid to ask about.
    “Who’s Dickie?” my father asked.
    “My boyfriend, silly,” Serena said. “How do you think I survive these lonely nights?”
    “I didn’t know you had a boyfriend. Is it serious?”
    “At my age, Brother Jones, any relationship is serious.”
    “How old are you?” Grandpa Samuel blurted out, just when I thought he wasn’t tracking the conversation.
    “That’s not a polite question to ask a lady, Daddy. But since you don’t remember a thing about my arrival in this world, apparently, I’ll tell you. I’m five years younger than Brother Jones, and he is thirty-nine. Can you do the math, Daddy?”
    “I can do math ,” Grandpa Samuel said, irritated.
    “You have to eat more than watermelon.”
    I looked over at Grandpa Samuel’s plate; it was piled high with