Life tern. My fatirred from our sleep, and t golden    tove, stirring oatmeal    breakfast in a pan; tceady feet. ture    aside ure iges remained. An old barn, red paint s to a dark mauve, no-rail fe froy    stick by stick. t angle of brambles t Dad only boto mo to abandon farming in tant neigeads and acreage to developers. But ill a quiet, lonesome place.

        trick of groo remember to groal part of beiion to every detail of    no amount of preparation for t for ts family ory—memories of bygone birties and otimacies—t one must pretend to remember. ory is easy enougo fake; stick around anyone long enougy plot. But ots and flaity. For-tunately    of farmland out in try.

        Near my first Cmas, o tairs and I idled by t t door. On tood a man    cigar mixing ly medial aroma of    once, alt seen him before.

        "; ;As I live and breat;

        I stood fixed to t clue as to ly at t, trode past me into tively up tairs. "Is your mot?"

        o visit in t occasion-ally tes, driving out from too the house.

        ossed    on turo face me again. " been,    look like youve gro;

        I stared at tranger and did not knoo say.

        "Run up tairs and tell your mama Im . Go on no;

        ";

        ";

        "But I dont ;

        t;Are you okay, ;    doo look me in t;No actually your uncle, son, but your mamas oldest friend. A friend of t say."

        My motair sranger, so to embrace ook advantage of to slip away.

        A close call, but not as bad as ter. In t feill s during tions, and overalk.

        "iced anyt tely?"

        So bed beside ;Odd?"

        "t;

        ";

        "And t;

        I looked at my    of proportion.

        "I t. Billy, ;

        "And toes."

        I curled up my toes in my bed upstairs.

        "And o    an in not a pound all er long."

        ";

        toward ;;

        "Billy ... stop."

        I resolved t nigo bee a true boy and begin paying closer at-tention to    be sidered normal. Once sucake    very oes and invite furticism, but I could strete a bit ead keep up    a point to avoid Dad as much as possible.

        trigued me as a o ingratiate myself    listening to ers on t dial in ticularly on a Sunday. Bac my ant past. But I o figure ao mention my i    Mom realizing t e versa-tions could be ter    or intimate. Fortunately, t Cmas, my distant grandparents sent toy piano. No bigger t, it produced but a tinny octave of notes, and from Ney coat. I rescued toy and sat in tunes from distant memory. My sisters, as usual,    like tranced yogis as I tested my memory on ted range. Dust rag in ood in tening ily. From tpletely ued.

        In ting time betune of sorts, and gradually revealed my native talent, but s t. My sc drop t t a ook music lessons, rips, I prete til my fato cut t out. I made a point of    fe beg, but bided my time, until so believe t played out o ty to see a man about piano lessons.

        e left toddlers    up front in my fat spring m in our Sun-day clot too sass, and onto to ty. S as ions. e    faster t been to ty in nearly one o like an old friend, one    beador stared at us from teering o follow us.

        On our approaco ty, tories on tskirts appeared first, great smokestacks exreams of dark clouds, furnaces s of fire. A bend in t once, a vieretco oer it loomed, until suddenly reets. t a cross street, a trol-ley scraped along, its pole sing sparks to ts doors opened like a bello poured a cros and s; tood on a crete island i, ing for t to t store ions of sraffiingled s on man-nequins, ly still.

        "I dont knoo like ing into ty. Ill never find parking."

        M out. "t ;

        Riding up in tor, my fat pocket for a Camel, and as t up. e es early, and o go in, I o tered. Mr. Martin may not    all and te , . Copo gen-teel seed. Beood t beautiful maco a ality of tos propped-open lid. ty ty of every beautiful sound. I oo dumbstruck to ansime.

        "May I ;

        "Im o lear;

        "My dear young man," ;Im afraid ts impossi-ble."

        I o t at t of tant memory of a stern German instructor    me to in-crease tempo. I stretc as possible, testing my span, and laid t elig an actal tone. Mr. Martin glided beudying my ;;

        "Once upon a time ..."

        "Find me middle C, Mr. Day."

        And    t thumb.

        My motered te ain o greet trodus, I played scales from tones frered poing scores t I knew by . A voi my ig, ig—more passion, more feeling.

        "You said ;

        "; my mot;I dont t;

        "tural."

        For fun, I plinked out "ttle Star," t for my sisters. I o use only one finger, as if t a toy.

        "aug," Mom said. "On a tiny piano t you migra. And oo, sing like a bird."

        Dad s me a quick sideoo busy sizing up my motin did not notice ttled on about all of my talents, but nobody listened. In measures too slo, I practiced my C even old Martin did not dis-cover the melody.

        "Mr. Day, Mrs. Day, I agree to take on your son. My minimum require-ment,     a time, ednesday afternoons and Saturdays. I    teac; tioned, in a voice barely above a ohe window.

        "But for your son"—;for uition, but you must it to sixteen ;

        I picked out a rudimentary "; My fatapped me on ting o leave. o Mom and grabbed ly by t of he elbow.

        "Ill call you Monday," ;at ty. ell t over."

        Mr. Martin bo;

        As tered incessantly, dreaming ture, planning our lives. Billy, rated on thing.

        "Ill buy some laying s ed to turn our place bato a real farm? Ill start a brood of c oo. And ake to treetcar, and treetcar into toreetcar Saturdays?"

        "I could do co earn t;

        "You see, Billy, s to learn? , t Mr. Martin said. And    piano?    s every day."

        My fat an inco let in a roar of fresh air.

        "Did you o You, like    it forever? Its s . S."

        "ice, Ruto play every day, and I migo afford piano lessons, but I certainly t afford a piano in t;

        "t sc; I said. "Nobody uses it. Im sure if I asked, t me stay after...."

        " about your     to see yrades slipping."

        "imes nine is eige is spelled S-E-P-A-R-A-t-E. Oppenook care of trin-ity is t, and it is a ery t no one    figure out."

        "All rigein. You    try it, but f to be sure. And your moto raise to ea t sc;

        Rutudied e, s-ti, lag any guilt over t t I    t of tle families.

        As    at t of tures doo a s, o a c till existed alarmed me, for I ten t t made me ill, and I    to beg my fato pull off t    up anotte and opened ed my nausea, if not my fear.

        Mom broke t;Didnt Mr. Martin ask us to it to four mont;

        "Ill call    a deal. Lets try tually, at first. See if t."

        For t eigook piano lessons, and it    time of all my lives. If I came in early to sco let me practice at t in ter on, t me into to learn t substitute anist t uing eggs, and eaoon, my fingers upon ting my tecurdays, trip into ty proved a tonic, ao civilization. No longer somet a creature of cul-ture, on my o being a virtuoso once again.
请记住本书首发域名：966xs.com。966小说手机版阅读网址：wap.966xs.com