Bishop's Road Read Online Free
until after ten.
Eve would like to talk about Judy - sheâs never seen a girl as tall. Or as well decorated, with rings and studs all over her body and that orange hair. But each time she speaks Maggie stops her embroidery and stares straight ahead of herself so Eve gives it up and says nothing until she feels Maggie has had enough drawing out for one night and tells her she can quit until next time.
By moonlight, the moonlight on Ginny Mustard as she walks from the waterfront, the moonlight making its way to Maggieâs room to turn her skin soft blue, that irritates Ruth and makes Judy want to do bad things, that Mrs. Miflin never sees, Eve walks to the garden. The hedgehog snuffles by and she can just make out the smile on its pointed little face. Moonlight pushes its way through her hair and into the deep lines around her eyes and mouth. A small wind with summer at its back rustles the lilac and bathes her in perfume. She sits on the damp grass and listens to it grow awhile with her red sweater pulled tight around her and the sleeve ends tucked in the palms of her old hands.
Ginny Mustard keeps walking. Itâs one of those nights when people leave their windows open and she knows of a big house that has music. The kind that starts off slow and sad andgrows up and up until it seems she will break from the sound of it. She climbs over the fence to the backyard and waits at the base of a rhododendron, takes off her shoes and rests her bare toes against the back of the marble Buddha that waits with her, has waited with her every spring as far as she can remember for the music to begin. Knees to her chin and arms wrapped around her legs, she is small and hidden.
And at the appointed hour someone walks to the kitchen sink and pours water into a glass. Stares out the window for a minute or two. Ginny Mustard knows that he doesnât see her. Even when the moon is full, he never sees her. And then the music comes. And she closes her eyes and lets it crawl through her for a while until there is no room for anything else. And it becomes an aching so fierce that she trembles all over with the strength of it and the Buddha becomes unbearably hot with her heat and she pulls her toes away and lies folded on the ground.
Sometimes she stays there a long time. Now and then she has fallen asleep and awakened with the sun on her face and the little ants in her clothes. Other times she has had to leave and run as hard as she can to get the pain out and on those nights she promises herself she will never go back but itâs been a long winter and here she is again.
Ruth sits and stares at herself in the mirror. She brushes her hair that hasnât been colored for two years or more and is streaked gray to her chin and solid black to her waist. It took three bottles of dye the last time she did it and she dripped some in the sink and on the hall rug when she walked back to her room. Mrs. Miflin never did get the stains out and complains to Ruth when-ever sheâs pissed about something and happens to be anywherenear the third floor bathroom at the same time Ruth is. Thereâs nothing to be done about it. She tried bleach and steel wool and gave it up for a bad job.
The moon laughs at Ruth and she becomes more and more irritated. Itching all over. She trudges to the bathroom and scrubs her face. In the shower she turns the water cold and hard on her skin and leaves it that way for a long time. Back in her room she sits again and stares at her hair. The moon is still laughing but not so much at her as near her, inclined to share some cosmic joke if only Ruth will listen.
Ruthâs hair has always looked as though it wants off her head and to fly. Her mother had combed and tied and buckled it down in vain. The minute her back was turned it was gone again. Her father called it ânigger knotsâ and wouldnât let Ruth out in the summer unless it was raining. If she was tanned she would look like one of those
Eve would like to talk about Judy - sheâs never seen a girl as tall. Or as well decorated, with rings and studs all over her body and that orange hair. But each time she speaks Maggie stops her embroidery and stares straight ahead of herself so Eve gives it up and says nothing until she feels Maggie has had enough drawing out for one night and tells her she can quit until next time.
By moonlight, the moonlight on Ginny Mustard as she walks from the waterfront, the moonlight making its way to Maggieâs room to turn her skin soft blue, that irritates Ruth and makes Judy want to do bad things, that Mrs. Miflin never sees, Eve walks to the garden. The hedgehog snuffles by and she can just make out the smile on its pointed little face. Moonlight pushes its way through her hair and into the deep lines around her eyes and mouth. A small wind with summer at its back rustles the lilac and bathes her in perfume. She sits on the damp grass and listens to it grow awhile with her red sweater pulled tight around her and the sleeve ends tucked in the palms of her old hands.
Ginny Mustard keeps walking. Itâs one of those nights when people leave their windows open and she knows of a big house that has music. The kind that starts off slow and sad andgrows up and up until it seems she will break from the sound of it. She climbs over the fence to the backyard and waits at the base of a rhododendron, takes off her shoes and rests her bare toes against the back of the marble Buddha that waits with her, has waited with her every spring as far as she can remember for the music to begin. Knees to her chin and arms wrapped around her legs, she is small and hidden.
And at the appointed hour someone walks to the kitchen sink and pours water into a glass. Stares out the window for a minute or two. Ginny Mustard knows that he doesnât see her. Even when the moon is full, he never sees her. And then the music comes. And she closes her eyes and lets it crawl through her for a while until there is no room for anything else. And it becomes an aching so fierce that she trembles all over with the strength of it and the Buddha becomes unbearably hot with her heat and she pulls her toes away and lies folded on the ground.
Sometimes she stays there a long time. Now and then she has fallen asleep and awakened with the sun on her face and the little ants in her clothes. Other times she has had to leave and run as hard as she can to get the pain out and on those nights she promises herself she will never go back but itâs been a long winter and here she is again.
Ruth sits and stares at herself in the mirror. She brushes her hair that hasnât been colored for two years or more and is streaked gray to her chin and solid black to her waist. It took three bottles of dye the last time she did it and she dripped some in the sink and on the hall rug when she walked back to her room. Mrs. Miflin never did get the stains out and complains to Ruth when-ever sheâs pissed about something and happens to be anywherenear the third floor bathroom at the same time Ruth is. Thereâs nothing to be done about it. She tried bleach and steel wool and gave it up for a bad job.
The moon laughs at Ruth and she becomes more and more irritated. Itching all over. She trudges to the bathroom and scrubs her face. In the shower she turns the water cold and hard on her skin and leaves it that way for a long time. Back in her room she sits again and stares at her hair. The moon is still laughing but not so much at her as near her, inclined to share some cosmic joke if only Ruth will listen.
Ruthâs hair has always looked as though it wants off her head and to fly. Her mother had combed and tied and buckled it down in vain. The minute her back was turned it was gone again. Her father called it ânigger knotsâ and wouldnât let Ruth out in the summer unless it was raining. If she was tanned she would look like one of those
Readers choose
Richard Matheson
Kirsty Moseley
David Mark Brown
Jane Hirshfield
John Pearson
Anne Lyle
Shelli Stevens
Patrick Taylor
Laura Lebow
Reavis Z Wortham