- Vol. 05
- Chapter 09
Once, in the summer grass, he'd laboured to rouse me. His transistor caroused my innocent ears with tunes blown through, hot, across from Radio Luxembourg. I didn't join the dots, when he came. My outline changed, my belly filled in, like it was painted by numbers with his swift, intuitive strokes. When my pains came, he was long gone, like the song–
the one I hadn't heard about high aprons and boys walking by.
He's never seen his daughter, though she has his almond eyes. And they wander wide over all these years. Searching.
She cries to know him. All I can give her to explain, to ease the pain, is this tape without a player. Musical score strung out for her story. It fell on the mat, wrapped in grass-green silk, the day she turned eighteen, her spooled inheritance. Sender: No Address.