The following passage is adapted from the short story “In the Gloaming” by Alice Elliot (© 2001 by Alice Elliot).
- He wanted to talk again, suddenly.
- During the days, he still brooded,
- scowling at the swimming pool
- from the vantage point of his
- wheelchair, where he sat covered
- with blankets in spite of the
- summer heat. In the evenings,
- though, he became more like his
- old old self, really. He became
- sweeter, the way he’d been as a
- child, before he began to gird
- himself with layers of irony and
- clever remarks. He spoke with
- an openness that astonished her.
- No one she knew talked that
- way – no man at least. After he
- was asleep, Janet would run
- through the conversations in her
- mind and realized what it was
- she wished she’d said. She knew
- she was generally considered
- sincere, but that had more to do
- with her being a good listener
- than with how she expressed
- herself.
- A month earlier, after a
- particularly long and grueling
- visit with a friend who’d take the
- train down to Wynnemoor from
- New York, Laird had declared a
- new policy: no visitors, no
- telephone calls. She didn’t blame
- him. People who hadn’t seen him
- for a while were often shocked to
- tears by his appearance, and
- rather than having them cheer
- him up, he felt obliged to comfort
- them. She’d overheard bits of
- some of those conversations. The
- final one was no worse than
- others, but Laird was fed up.
- He’d said more than once that he
- wasn’t cut out to be the brave
- one, the one who would inspire
- everybody to walk away from a
- visit with him feeling uplifted
- shaking their heads in wonder.
- He had liked being the most
- handsome and missed it very
- much. When he’d had enough he
- went into a self-imposed retreat,
- complete with a wall of silence
- and other ascetic practices that
- kept him busy for several weeks.
- Then he softened. Not only did
- he want to talk again; he wanted
- to talk to her. It began the night
- they ate outside on the terrace
- for the first time all summer.
- Afterward, Martin—her husband
- —got up to make a telephone call,
- but Janet stayed in her wicker
- chair, resting before clearing the
- table. It was one of those
- moments when she felt nostalgic
- for cigarettes. On nights like
- this, when the air was completely
- still, she used to blow her famous
- smoke rings for the children,
- dutifully obeying their commands
- to blow one through another or
- three in a row, or to make big,
- ropey circles that expanded as
- they floated up to the heavens.
- She did exactly as they wanted,
- for as long as they wanted,
- sometimes going through a
- quarter of a pack before they
- allowed her to stop. Incredibly,
- neither Anne nor Laird became
- smokers. Just the opposite they
- nagged at her to quit and were
- pleased when she finally did. She
- wished they had been just a little
- bit sorry. It was part of their
- childhood coming to an end,
- after all.
- Out of habit, she took note of
- the first lightning bug, the first
- star. The lawn darkened, and the
- flowers that had sulked in the
- heat all day suddenly released
- their perfumes. She laid her head
- back on the rim of the chair and
- closed her eyes. Soon she was
- following Laird’s breathing and
- found herself picking up the vital
- rhythms, breathing along. How
- many mothers spend so much
- time with their thirty-three-year
- old sons? She had as much of him
- now as she’d had when he was an
- infant—more, because she had the
- memory of the intervening years
- as well, to round out her thoughts
- about him. When they sat quietly
- together, she felt as close to him
- as she ever had. It was still him in
- there, inside the failing shell.
- “The gloaming,” he said suddenly.
- She nodded dreamily,
- automatically, then sat up. She
- turned to him. “What?” Although
- she’d heard.
- “I remember when I was little
- you took me over to the picture
- window and told me that in
- Scotland this time of day was
- called the ‘gloaming.’”
- Her skin tingled. She cleared her
- throat, quietly, taking care not to
- make too much of the event that
- he was talking again. “You
- thought I said it was ‘gloomy.’”
- He gave a smile, then looked at
- her searchingly. “I always thought
- it hurt you somehow that the day
- was over, but you said it was a
- beautiful time because for a few
- moments the purple light made
- the whole world look like the
- Scottish highlands on a summer
- night.”