Floodplane 1 | Page 18

They were silent for a moment and her eyes faded.

"You have homework to do," she said.

Jonah nodded.

"Go do it," she said. She released his hand.

Jonah stood up and walked to the door. "Leave the door open," she said. "I like to hear you out there." He glanced back, but she was already looking out the window.

~

"You want to talk? You? I can't believe that. No! We can't talk. I tried to talk to

you. The time for that went down the drain long ago."

Then the murmur of his father's voice. He never spoke loudly. He was always

contained. And his mother. "No! Get out!"

Jonah hid under the tall side table in the corner. It was dark under there. His

father's black shoes tacked out of the kitchen and down the hall. Through the wall at his back Jonah heard him, in the bedroom. A thump. The bed creaked. The sliding, grating sound of the closet door. Another thump. From the kitchen, nothing. The closet sounded again. Across the cream forest of the carpet Jonah saw a shadow move under the kitchen door.

His father's shoes returned; they stopped. They moved onto the carpet. Jonah

pulled his legs closer to his body in the tight confines under the table. The shoes stopped in front of him. They flexed and shone and his father's gray pants bagged over them. His face sank slowly into view.

"Jonah?"

His father said he had to leave. He asked Jonah to come out. Jonah didn't move. His father's hand lingered on his knee. Jonah reached out to touch the hand, but the shoes flexed again and then disappeared behind the kitchen door.