Page 2 - WashCountyArts_Fall13.indd

2
WASHINGTON COUNTY ARTS GUIDE SEPTEMBER — NOVEMBER 2013
Twelfth Night
of the living dead
ROOMS"WHILEHISHOUSEBLAZEDGAUDILYON. ICALLEDUPDAISY FROMTHE
OFFICENEXTMORNINGAND INVITEDHER TO COMETO TEA.
"DON'TBRING TOM," IWARNEDHER.
"WHAT?"
"DON'TBRING TOM."
"WHO IS 'TOM'?" SHEASKED INNOCENTLY.
THEDAYAGREEDUPONWASPOURINGRAIN.ATELEVENO'CLOCKAMAN INA
RAINCOATDRAGGINGA LAWNNMOWER TAPPEDATMY FRONTDOOR ANDSAIDTHAT
MR.GATSBYHADSENTHIMOVER TO CUTMYGRASS.THISREMINDEDMETHAT I
HADFORGOTTENTO TELL MY FINNTO COMEBACK SO IDROVE INTO WESTEGG
VILLAGETO SEARCH FOR HER AMONG SOGGYWHITENWASHEDALLEYSANDTO BUY
SOMECUPSAND LEMONSANDFLOWERS.
THE FLOWERSWEREUNNECESSARY, FOR ATTWO O'CLOCKAGREENHOUSEARRIVED
FROMGATSBY'S,WITH INNUMERABLERECEPTACLESTO CONTAIN IT.ANHOUR
LATER THE FRONTDOOR OPENEDNERVOUSLY,ANDGATSBY INAWHITE FLANNEL
SUIT, SILVER SHIRTANDGOLDNCOLOREDTIEHURRIED IN.HEWASPALEAND
THEREWEREDARK SIGNSOFSLEEPLESSNESSBENEATH HISEYES.
"ISEVERYTHINGALL RIGHT?"HEASKED IMMEDIATELY.
"THEGRASS LOOKSFINE, IFTHAT'SWHATYOUMEAN."
"WHATGRASS?"HE INQUIREDBLANKLY. "OH,THEGRASS INTHEYARD."HE LOOKED
OUTTHEWINDOWAT IT,BUT JUDGING FROMHISEXPRESSION IDON'TBELIEVE
HE SAWATHING.
"LOOKSVERYGOOD,"HEREMARKEDVAGUELY. "ONEOFTHEPAPERSSAIDTHEY
THOUGHTTHERAINWOULDSTOPABOUT FOUR. ITHINK ITWAS 'THE JOURNAL.' HAVE
YOUGOTEVERYTHING YOUNEED INTHE SHAPEOFNNOFTEA?"
ITOOKHIM INTO THEPANTRYWHEREHE LOOKEDA LITTLEREPROACHFULLYATTHE
FINN.TOGETHER WE SCRUTINIZEDTHETWELVE LEMONCAKESFROMTHEDELICATESSEN
SHOP.
"WILL THEYDO?" IASKED.
"OFCOURSE,OFCOURSE!THEY'RE FINE!"ANDHEADDEDHOLLOWLY, ". . .OLD
SPORT."
THERAINCOOLEDABOUTHALFNPASTTHREETO ADAMPMISTTHROUGH WHICH
OCCASIONAL THINDROPSSWAM LIKEDEW.GATSBY LOOKEDWITH VACANTEYES
THROUGH ACOPYOFCLAY'S "ECONOMICS," STARTINGATTHE FINNISH TREADTHAT
SHOOKTHEKITCHEN FLOOR ANDPEERING TOWARDTHEBLEAREDWINDOWSFROMTIME
TO TIMEAS IFASERIESOF INVISIBLEBUTALARMINGHAPPENINGSWERETAKING
PLACEOUTSIDE.FINALLYHEGOTUPAND INFORMEDME INANUNCERTAINVOICE
THATHEWASGOINGHOME.
"WHY'STHAT?"
"NOBODY'SCOMING TO TEA. IT'STOO LATE!"HE LOOKEDATHISWATCH AS IF
THEREWASSOMEPRESSINGDEMANDONHISTIMEELSEWHERE. "ICAN'TWAIT
ALL DAY."
"DON'TBE SILLY; IT'S JUSTTWO MINUTESTO FOUR."
HE SATDOWN,MISERABLY,AS IF IHADPUSHEDHIM,ANDSIMULTANEOUSLYTHERE
WASTHE SOUNDOFAMOTOR TURNING INTO MY LANE.WEBOTH JUMPEDUPAND,
A LITTLEHARROWEDMYSELF, IWENTOUT INTO THEYARD.
UNDER THEDRIPPINGBARE LILACTREESA LARGEOPENCAR WASCOMINGUPTHE
DRIVE. IT STOPPED.DAISY'SFACE,TIPPEDSIDEWAYSBENEATH A
THREENCORNERED LAVENDER HAT, LOOKEDOUTATMEWITH ABRIGHTECSTATIC
SMILE.
"ISTHISABSOLUTELYWHEREYOU LIVE,MYDEARESTONE?"
THEEXHILARATINGRIPPLEOFHER VOICEWASAWILDTONIC INTHERAIN. IHAD
TO FOLLOWTHE SOUNDOF IT FOR AMOMENT,UPANDDOWN,WITH MYEAR ALONE
BEFOREANYWORDSCAMETHROUGH.ADAMP STREAKOFHAIR LAY LIKEADASH OF
BLUEPAINTACROSSHER CHEEKANDHER HANDWASWETWITH GLISTENINGDROPSAS
ITOOK ITTO HELPHER FROMTHECAR.
"AREYOU IN LOVEWITH ME," SHE SAID LOW INMYEAR. "OR WHYDID IHAVE
TO COMEALONE?"
"THAT'STHE SECRETOFCASTLERACKRENT.TELL YOUR CHAUFFEUR TO GO FAR
AWAYANDSPENDANHOUR."
"COMEBACK INANHOUR, FERDIE."THEN INAGRAVEMURMUR, "HISNAME IS
FERDIE."
"DOESTHEGASOLINEAFFECTHISNOSE?"
"IDON'TTHINK SO," SHE SAID INNOCENTLY. "WHY?"
WEWENT IN.TO MYOVERWHELMING SURPRISETHE LIVINGROOMWASDESERTED.
"WELL,THAT'SFUNNY!" IEXCLAIMED.
"WHAT'SFUNNY?"
SHETURNEDHER HEADASTHEREWASA LIGHT,DIGNIFIEDKNOCKINGATTHE FRONT
DOOR. IWENTOUTANDOPENED IT.GATSBY,PALEASDEATH,WITH HISHANDS
PLUNGED LIKEWEIGHTS INHISCOATPOCKETS,WASSTANDING INAPUDDLEOF
WATER GLARING TRAGICALLY INTO MYEYES.
WITH HISHANDSSTILL INHISCOATPOCKETSHE STALKEDBYME INTO THE
HALL,TURNEDSHARPLYAS IFHEWEREONAWIREANDDISAPPEARED INTO THE
LIVINGROOM. ITWASN'TABIT FUNNY.AWAREOFTHE LOUDBEATINGOFMYOWN
HEART IPULLEDTHEDOOR TO AGAINSTTHE INCREASINGRAIN.
FOR HALFAMINUTETHEREWASN'TASOUND.THEN FROMTHE LIVINGROOM I
HEARDASORTOFCHOKINGMURMUR ANDPARTOFA LAUGH FOLLOWEDBYDAISY'S
VOICEONACLEAR ARTIFICIAL NOTE.
"ICERTAINLYAMAWFULLYGLADTO SEEYOUAGAIN."
APAUSE; ITENDUREDHORRIBLY. IHADNOTHING TO DO INTHEHALL SO IWENT
INTO THEROOM.
GATSBY,HISHANDSSTILL INHISPOCKETS,WASRECLININGAGAINSTTHE
MANTELPIECE INASTRAINEDCOUNTERFEITOFPERFECTEASE,EVENOFBOREDOM.
HISHEAD LEANEDBACK SO FAR THAT ITRESTEDAGAINSTTHE FACEOFA
DEFUNCTMANTELPIECECLOCKANDFROMTHISPOSITIONHISDISTRAUGHTEYES
STAREDDOWNATDAISYWHO WASSITTING FRIGHTENEDBUTGRACEFUL ONTHE
EDGEOFASTIFFCHAIR.
"WE'VEMETBEFORE,"MUTTEREDGATSBY.HISEYESGLANCEDMOMENTARILYAT
MEANDHIS LIPSPARTEDWITH ANABORTIVEATTEMPTATA LAUGH. LUCKILY
THECLOCKTOOKTHISMOMENTTO TILTDANGEROUSLYATTHEPRESSUREOFHIS
HEAD,WHEREUPONHETURNEDANDCAUGHT ITWITH TREMBLING FINGERSANDSET
ITBACK INPLACE.THENHE SATDOWN,RIGIDLY,HISELBOWONTHEARMOFTHE
SOFAANDHISCHIN INHISHAND.
"I'MSORRYABOUTTHECLOCK,"HE SAID.
MYOWN FACEHADNOWASSUMEDADEEPTROPICAL BURN. ICOULDN'TMUSTER UP
ASINGLECOMMONPLACEOUTOFTHETHOUSAND INMYHEAD.
"IT'SANOLDCLOCK," ITOLDTHEM IDIOTICALLY.
ITHINKWEALL BELIEVEDFOR AMOMENTTHAT ITHADSMASHED INPIECESON
THE FLOOR.
"WEHAVEN'TMET FOR MANYYEARS," SAIDDAISY,HER VOICEASMATTERNOFNFACT
AS ITCOULDEVER BE.
"FIVEYEARSNEXTNOVEMBER."
THEAUTOMATICQUALITYOFGATSBY'SANSWER SETUSALL BACKAT LEASTANOTHER
MINUTE. IHADTHEMBOTH ONTHEIR FEETWITH THEDESPERATE SUGGESTIONTHAT
THEYHELPMEMAKETEA INTHEKITCHENWHENTHEDEMONIACFINNBROUGHT IT IN
ONATRAY.
AMIDTHEWELCOMECONFUSIONOFCUPSANDCAKESACERTAINPHYSICAL DECENCY
ESTABLISHED ITSELF.GATSBYGOTHIMSELF INTO ASHADOWANDWHILEDAISY
AND ITALKED LOOKEDCONSCIENTIOUSLY FROMONETO THEOTHER OFUSWITH
TENSEUNHAPPYEYES.HOWEVER,ASCALMNESSWASN'TANEND IN ITSELF I
MADEANEXCUSEATTHE FIRSTPOSSIBLEMOMENTANDGOTTO MY FEET.
"WHEREAREYOUGOING?"DEMANDEDGATSBY IN IMMEDIATEALARM.
"I'LL BEBACK."
"I'VEGOTTO SPEAKTO YOUABOUT SOMETHINGBEFOREYOUGO."
HE FOLLOWEDMEWILDLY INTO THEKITCHEN,CLOSEDTHEDOOR ANDWHISPERED:
"OH,GOD!" INAMISERABLEWAY.
"WHAT'STHEMATTER?"
"THIS ISATERRIBLEMISTAKE,"HE SAID, SHAKINGHISHEADFROMSIDETO
SIDE, "ATERRIBLE,TERRIBLEMISTAKE."
"YOU'RE JUSTEMBARRASSED,THAT'SALL,"AND LUCKILY IADDED: "DAISY'S
EMBARRASSEDTOO."
"SHE'SEMBARRASSED?"HEREPEATED INCREDULOUSLY.
"JUSTASMUCH ASYOUARE."
"DON'TTALK SO LOUD."
"YOU'REACTING LIKEA LITTLEBOY," IBROKEOUT IMPATIENTLY. "NOTONLY
THATBUTYOU'RERUDE.DAISY'SSITTING INTHEREALL ALONE."
HERAISEDHISHANDTO STOPMYWORDS, LOOKEDATMEWITH UNFORGETTABLE
REPROACH ANDOPENING THEDOOR CAUTIOUSLYWENTBACK INTO THEOTHER ROOM.
IWALKEDOUTTHEBACKWAYNNJUSTASGATSBYHADWHENHEHADMADEHIS
NERVOUSCIRCUITOFTHEHOUSEHALFANHOUR BEFORENNANDRAN FOR AHUGE
BLACKKNOTTEDTREEWHOSEMASSED LEAVESMADEAFABRICAGAINSTTHERAIN.
ONCEMORE ITWASPOURINGANDMY IRREGULAR LAWN,WELLNSHAVEDBY
GATSBY'SGARDENER,ABOUNDED IN SMALL MUDDY SWAMPSANDPREHISTORIC
MARSHES.THEREWASNOTHING TO LOOKAT FROMUNDER THETREEEXCEPT
GATSBY'SENORMOUSHOUSE, SO ISTAREDAT IT, LIKEKANTATHISCHURCH
STEEPLE, FOR HALFANHOUR.ABREWER HADBUILT ITEARLY INTHE "PERIOD"
CRAZE,ADECADEBEFORE,ANDTHEREWASASTORYTHATHE'DAGREEDTO PAY
FIVEYEARS' TAXESONALL THENEIGHBORINGCOTTAGES IFTHEOWNERSWOULD
HAVETHEIR ROOFSTHATCHEDWITH STRAW.PERHAPSTHEIR REFUSAL TOOKTHE
HEARTOUTOFHISPLANTO FOUNDAFAMILYNNHEWENT INTO AN IMMEDIATE
DECLINE.HISCHILDREN SOLDHISHOUSEWITH THEBLACKWREATH STILL ONTHE
September 26 - October 20, 2013
Fall13