The Second Coming

to be the best man in the entire country at restoration. And guess where they’re going to live, honey?—in the old Hunnicutt house next to us! And guess—
    She stopped listening until they began talking about her.
    They began to argue about something. She heard her name and pricked up her ears.
    They were arguing about the plans for her future.
    Kelso, why are they suddenly interested in my future?
    Her mother had plans for her.
    Her father had different plans for her.
    They argued about the plans. She was amazed and pleased. There were plans for her!
    The pleasant feeling came back. They argued angrily, but the anger was between them and not toward her. Dr. Duk once again in the familiar territory of ill will, relaxed, hiked up a thigh, took out a Marlboro.
    Her mother’s plan (her mother: sitting bolt upright now, leaning forward, hand open to Dr. Duk, eyes fine): I want Allison to come home with us, Alistair. Not to your old room, honey. I know you don’t want that, but listen to this. Jason Cupp is restoring downtown Williamsport. We have a chance to buy the old Hunnicutt place for a song. Jason and Leslie will live there and restore it. And guess what’s out back? Remember? The old carriage house. It’s so lovely, the old bricks weathered and worn into scoops outside and down to cobblestones inside. You can move in in three weeks. Wait, dear! You haven’t heard the best part. We’re also converting the old Atlantic Coast Line railroad station into, guess what, a community art center! Painting, music, plays, you name it. And guess who we want for our music director? It wasn’t my idea. The board wants her.
    The Board or Aurora bora ?she said.
    Boring or beautiful? said Dr. Duk, looking at her with a smile (they were after all two of a kind, she and Docky, compared with these exotic outsiders). I think beautiful.
    She skipped three grades, said her mother. She was the youngest girl ever to enter Mary Baldwin. She won the music prize her sophomore year and gave a concert her junior year, the only time it’s ever been done.
    Yeah, I was smart. I opened my mouth and nothing came out. I forgot the words. Forgot the Schubert, blew the Wolfe. I stood still and looked at them. Time passed. People looked away. They were embarrassed. Not only embarrassed but frightened and hateful. Who are you, you bitch, to do this to us when we didn’t want to come here in the first place? What to do? Leave. Check out. Went off the stage, straight out the fire-escape door, into the street, and right on out of town.
    Clink clunk. As I see it, said her mother, all the ingredients are there: she’ll be at home among family and friends, she’ll have her own lovely little place. But what’s most important she’ll be working at something she’s good at and something we need—she’s wonderful with children. And just to be on the safe side, we could all fly up here every weekend to check in with you. What do you think, dear?
    Nnnnaaaahrgh.
    Yes. Well, I agree, honey, it must come as quite a shock. But think about it. What do you think, dear?
    If I think about it, all I can think of is those scooped-out bricks and those cool dead colonial blues and grays and me lying in a closet with the shakes.
    But what she said aloud was: Things though loose can be jammed nevertheless. Blue is for you but the instigation of color is climbing on the Sirius me.
    What? said her father. What did she say? he asked her mother.
    I know, dear, said her mother, aglint and fond.
    Her father’s plan (her father, hitching forward and putting one forefinger on the other forefinger): No, Doc, no way. Allie is not ready to leave your care. (Why were they all of a sudden making these plans?) But I don’t see why she should be cooped up here. What do you say to this: a house, her own house, here in the neighborhood, under your wing, so to speak, close enough so she can take part in groups and crafts and so forth. The nicest place money can buy. What’s money if you can’t make your kid happy? As a matter of fact, we saw one of these chalet-duplex-condos this morning which would be perfect.
    For you to come up and play golf, said her mother. But if we restored the Hunnicutt house—
    So you could be national secretary of the Dames, said her father, smiling back to his eyeteeth, feet springing under the chair.
    Now Walter, said her mother.
    She could see that Dr. Duk was just