Thank You for the Music Read Online Free PDF Page B

dangling. “This terrorism stuff is making you sweetly annoying. You’re like an anxious pup at my heels. Why don’t you go have a beer or something? Listen to Sonny Boy Williamson. He’ll cheer you up. Or try calling Maria again! She’s a whole different brand of terrorism.”
    He felt dismissed, stung by her anxious pup remark, but his dignity was a ship that sailed him wordlessly out of the room.
    He did have a beer, and listened to Keith Jarret’s haunting Köln Concert, so as not to be cheered up, and called his daughter. On her answering machine he left this message: “Hey there, it’s your dad. Your uncle John would love to see you at his retirement party. I’ll pay for the ticket if you want to come. Okay, let me know, and I’ll—”
    Maria picked up the phone. “Timothy?” She’d taken to calling him this fairly recently.
    â€œThat’s me, kiddo,” he said. He was impersonating a father now.
    â€œI’d love to come see Uncle John’s retirement party.”
    â€œYou sound strange today.”
    She laughed. She dropped the phone, still laughing. Finally she was back. “I’m tripping my ass off.”
    He said nothing. He held the phone tightly. And then, from deep in his chest, a familiar sorrow rose in him that left him speechless. “Okay,” he finally said. And he hung up.
    He hadn’t the heart to tell Rachel about the call when she hauled out the bulging plaid suitcase, frayed from so many years of use.
    â€œI’m excited!” she said.
    When a child knocked on their door selling candy for school, Tim went with her to see the child; he liked when random kids appeared at the door. This little girl was unsmiling and homely. “Would you like to buy a candy bar to help support East Hills school?” she said in a monotone. Her nose was running. Tim wanted to pull her into the house, wanted to sit her down and discover how she endured her life. “Aren’t you cold out here?” he said. “No,” mumbled the girl, and her blue eyes darted to the side. The sleeves of her coat were too short and he saw the impossible fragility of her bluish wrists.
    â€œAre you sure? It feels cold to me.”
    She shook her head.
    â€œIf you were cold, you could come in a while and have something warm to drink by the fire.”
    The girl looked frightened now. What kind of world do you think this is, mister?
    â€œI know, I know, you need to move on to the next house and make some money.” He took a ten-dollar bill from his pocket. “Here. Give me a candy bar.”
    The girl handed him one, and began rifling through a stack of ones. “You get nine dollars change.”
    â€œKeep it.”
    A sly smile came to her lips, and she looked down. “Thanks.” She turned and walked away.
    Rachel shut the door and looked at him. “You liked her.”
    â€œI liked her.”
    â€œI like that you liked her.”
    She smiled at him, an old desire flashing in her eyes, and kissed him on the mouth.
    â€œI reached Maria,” he said, and Rachel stiffened and stepped back.
    â€œAnd?”
    He hesitated, torn between wanting to tear her excitement to shreds and wanting to protect her heart, always.
    â€œShe’s not coming. Too busy.”
    â€œHow did she sound?”
    â€œFine. Not a word about the end-time.”
    In the airport that morning it was initially a relief for Tim to see his brother looking old, and then sadness set in. John looked vulnerable, the broad forehead lined and the eyes sunken just a bit. In Tim’s memory his brother always appeared in his prime. Seeing the inevitable age softened Tim, as it had before, and now the good will inside of his fear woke, his heart leapt forward, he embraced John and said, “It’s good to see you.” Rachel and Claire talked all the way out of the airport. Tim saw how Rachel had hardly looked at John. So much