UNSEEN PROSE
They sat in silence. Beyond, the revolving door turned and turned, flashing light and dark, spilling strangers inside or out, one by one, and then it was David striding across the terrazzo floor, his expression serious and impassive, impossible to read. Norah tensed and felt Paul tense beside her. To her astonishment, David walked straight to Paul and grabbed him in a powerful, wordless hug.
“You’re safe,” he said. “Thank God.”
Norah draw a deep breath, grateful for this moment. An officer with a white crew cut crossed the room and shook Norah’s hand, David’s. Then he turned to Paul.
“What I’d like to do is put you in the slammer,” he said. “A smart-aleck boy like yourself. Don’t know how many I’ve seen over the years, boys thinking they’re so tough, boys who get let off again and again, until eventually they hit real trouble. Then they go to jail for a long time and find out that they’re not tough at all. It’s a shame. But it seems your neighbour, the Bolands, think they’re doing you a favour and won’t press charges about the car. So since I can’t lock you up, I’m releasing you in the custody of your parents.”
Paul nodded. His hands were trembling; he shoved them in his pockets.
“I called the Bolands,” David explained, folding the paperwork and tucking it into his breast pocket. “They were reasonable. This could have been much worse, Paul. But don’t think you won’t be paying back every cent of what it will cost to get that car repaired. And don’t think your life is going to be very happy for quite a while. No friends. No social life.”
Paul nodded, swallowing.
“I have to rehearse,” he said. “I can’t just miss the performances.”
“No,” David said. “What you can’t do is steal a car from our neighbours and expect life to go on as usual.”
Norah felt Paul, so tense beside her and so angry. Leave it, she found herself thinking, seeing the muscle move in David’s jaw. Leave it alone, both of you. That’s enough.
“Fine,” Paul said. “Then I’m not coming home. I’d rather go to jail.”
“Well, I can certainly arrange that,” David answered coolly.
“Go ahead,” Paul gnawed, “Arrange it. Because I’m a musician. And I’m good. And I’d rather sleep in the streets than give it up. Hell, I’d rather be dead. And how I wish you were dead too”
Norah, who had been holding herself very still, felt the words like shards of ice, a harsh, bright, piercing grief. Before she knew what she had done, she had slapped Paul across the face. The stubble of his new beard was rough against her palm – he was a man, no longer a boy, and she had hit him hard. He turned, shocked a red mark already rising on his cheek.
“Paul,” David said, “don’t make things worse than they are. Don’t say things you’ll regret for the rest of your life.”
Norah’s hand was still stinging; her blood rushed. “We’ll go home,” she coaxed, “We’ll settle this at home.”
“I don’t know. A night in jail might do him good.”
“I lost one child,” she turned to him, “I will not lose another.”
Now David looked stunned, as if she had slapped him too. The ceiling fan clicked, and the revolving door spun with rhythmic thunks.
“All right,” David said. “Maybe that’s right. Maybe you’re right to pay no attention to me. God knows I’m sorry for the things I’ve done to fail you both.”
“David?” Norah said, as he turned away, but he did not respond. She watched him walk across the room and enter the revolving door. Outside, he was visible of an instant, a middle-aged man in a dark jacket, part of the crowd, then gone. The ceiling fan clicked amid smells of sour flesh and French fries and cleaning fluid.
“I didn’t mean -” Paul fumbled.
Norah held up her hand. “Don’t. Please. Don’t say another word.”
QUESTIONS
2[i] What impressions do you form of the character of David?
2[ii] How does the writer vividly convey the tension that exists in the relationship between Paul and his parents?
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