The littler one was playing with her dollhouse this afternoon. Crinkled knees on rose bespattered rug, she fondled her ones, Molly, Fig and the Puppy Gruff.
Molly is a boy doll. The littler one giggled when I dubbed him so. That is a girl's name, she said. Hush, said I, who is to say?
Fig is a black sambo rajah, jeweled and awesome. And the Puppy Gruff is the Puppy Gruff.
Mother was sitting at the big furniture scraping on a hill of debts.
She frowned at me squatting on a buttoned hassock admiring my daughter.
The littler one was rearranging furniture, a blue-veined hand sliding a bathtub to the wall. You must not place a bathtub in the guestroom, I told her, the guests might float ducks in it. I flew a bit of breeze from my lips and the delicate hair wisps at her temple stirred golden. Pappa, said she with a shake.
The furniture arrangement proved so distasteful that she swept her hand across the floor to brush it clean. The furniture bounced nicely on the rug. I think now, said I, that is some fine way to arrange furniture. Little lips pouting, priceless petulance. The distaff giant rose, the floor shook with her coming. I looked up and the far off eyes sprinkled ice dust on our heads.
Get up! she cried. I lifted the piano with two fingers. First, I begged, we must return this.
She bent over and slapped it spinning on the floor. Come here, in a loud way she said. And you, a finger spear pointing at my loved one's heart, stay away from the house if you don't appreciate it.
Little head lowered, rising tears. You may play nicely with the house, I said and stood up way high. Mother stamp stamped to the table. I stamp stamped followed.
This simply cannot go on, she gurgled, pushing the everest of bills to me. I am not hungry, I said. Ice dust upon me.
Listen Peg, she hissed so the littler one would hear worse, this simply is the end. Either you get out and work or I leave, with the child.
Old tale. Old song. Old misery set to words. Take my child? Nonsense.
I'll get work tomorrow, I promised.
Tomorrow, tomorrow I heard an echo from the valley of her throat. How many times have I heard that? How many times did Sal hear it? Tomorrow I said and walked away. That is not all, she cried but I kept on for the doorway.
It is unbelievable the rapidity with which I shrank.
Suddenly from as big as her, down, down.
Whishhh, the doorway far far up like a mountain tunnel. The huge chair noted and prepared to collapse its gargantuan crimson on my tiny body. The sky shook, the cliff tottered miles above me,
I flung up my arm and cried fear.
Pain at my knees. Suddenly I was back again, sprawled across the chair. Pappa! Sweet worried tones caressed my ears.
Mother had such a look and such a trembling, standing by the table choking herself.
I rose with dignity and brushed off some dust not on me. I strode into the hall carefully. The house was slowly beginning to rock. The stairs were swelling, receding, in and out, like rolling wave carpeted and tacked.
I held tight to the banister. No sense being swept out the window and out to sea.
I prisoned off my room and sat down uh! on my white bed. My feet raised up and placed out on the spread, I fell back.
The pitching slacked off, my ship slid into calm waters. Oh Sal, I whispered, Sal who understood, Sal not here, Sal far away gone and never coming more.
The clock whispered sleep and wake.
I raised squarely up and was without trouble. The room, the hall, all in fine order, walls square, flat and firm, steady ceiling.
I slid down the silent stairs. Ha ha was the chuckle as I swept past the bottom toe and kneeled before the living room. Murmurs in the kitchen, the way clear. Softly, softly. Hello there Fig old bedizened potentate. Molly.
I began to crawl carefully, slowly.
For a while, naturally, I got nowhere since I kept shrinking the farther I went. The room swelled bigger, bigger. Grotesque universe.
Voices! Footsteps!
I scurried to the brink of the rug meaning to slip quickly over the edge and crouch in a hairy black cavern.
Peg! Voice in the distance, crashing from the sky. I could have sworn I was out of sight.
Peg! The thunder roared again.
I wept with fury biting at the roses for their eyes so keen. I raised a look through binocular tears.
The little one, clever darling, made as though frightened. Sweet conspirator! Mother will not know my plan from her.
I started climbing up the red chair, a long haul without a rope.
Fantastic hands reached down to smother me in hot greasy palms. I clawed at them, angular sweating monstrosities.
The room wavered, so like it to do that.
I stood up, ready to die for my secret, let the black waves dash on me. The room distorted, cooled and shrank. I held up my hands, screaming, ready for the ceiling to plunge down on me.
But first the tower of me crashed an awful way far down on the rug plateau. I saw roses in my eye when I became unknowing.
I woke in my bed feeling quiet. Someone was sitting across the room.
Come here Sal, I asked so gently. Let me touch your cold gray lips, let me see the clay that stains your eyes.
It was only a white tower that came to me as I slowly drowned in the lake folds of my bed.
Foul lifeguard it reached down and tugged me out. My wrist was enveloped by cold serpents. I heard hmmm at the tower gate. I squinted and saw it was actually a giant whose every pore was a gaping pit.
I turned my head away and was sick it was so ugly and horrible.
I fell away to black things soon.
But before it, I thought this and final too.
When that bleak tower is gone or at slumber I will creep out, fly down the steps of mountain side and run across the rose strewn plain to my home.
In the door, they will leave it open for me. Up, up, up the pretty stairs, two at a time I think.
Into the bed creeping to hear them whisper below, my friends.
Waiting for Sal to tuck me in and kiss me so, goodnight dear. Sleep.
Dream on dream within the smooth and creamy silent walls.
The pendulum stops.
