16
Back in Black
I am lying on Jimmy’s thick rug when he walks in, carrying Finn. Finn is all gurgles and bubbles, chewing on his knuckles.
Kneeling, Jimmy carefully places the baby right next to me. I roll closer to Finn so he will feel my soft fur. Jimmy crouches over the baby, smiling at him, and then winking at me.
Jimmy is wearing a soft, plaid, button-down shirt like the ones Father wears, with the sleeves rolled up. I suddenly realize that the shirt he is wearing actually is one of Father’s shirts. It comes as a shock to me that they now wear the same size shirts. I think that in the past year Jimmy has settled into his body. He’s no longer awkward or clumsy. His movements have become more assured and confident, his shoulders wider and his posture straight.
I still think of Jimmy as one of the children, but I see he has also become a young man.
Jimmy puts his hands over his eyes, and then quickly pulls his hands away, looking incredibly surprised to see Finn still lying there. The baby gasps and laughs, kicking his legs.
Jimmy plays this game over and over. I recognize it. Finn loves the repetition. The twentieth time, Finn laughs just as hard as the first time. The joke never gets old.
I get up and smell the baby, sniffing him all over. Sensing that I have inhaled baby powder into my nose, I shake and sneeze.
Jimmy lifts me up, laughing, and moves me a little farther away from Finn. Seeing his brother laugh, Finn laughs again too.
I wonder what it must be like in there, in the baby’s mind, in all of the quiet. I do appreciate silence, but of course, silence is never really silence. There is the clock ticking, or water running in the pipes, or wind buffeting the house, or the panting of Jasper as he sits in the hallway. There are a hundred other little noises that make up silence.
Silence is different for that baby.
Jimmy reaches behind him, and I see there is something new on the floor in his room. I thought it was just a big black box, but now I see it has knobs that turn. It is very dusty. Perhaps Jimmy found it on one of those shelves in the basement, where Father keeps his old things.
Jimmy plugs a cord into the wall and fiddles with the buttons. I jump as loud music bursts forth.
Usually when he listens to music, Jimmy plays it from his very small, thin phone. This box is huge in comparison.
Jimmy reaches under Finn’s arms and pulls the baby into his lap. He shuffles up as close to the box as he can, and he places Finn’s hands on one end of the box. Jimmy turns a button, and the music gets even louder.
My ears flatten back at the assault. I look left and then right. I have an overwhelming urge to flee.
I run under the bed, just peeking out.
Jimmy turns a knob and gets static, then voices talking, then static, then a song. He continues to turn the knob, the noise changing every few seconds, until he finds what he is looking for.
Jimmy looks up to the ceiling a moment and puts his hand on his heart, as if in quick thanks.
Finn’s hands have already moved, so Jimmy takes Finn’s little hands in his again and flattens Finn’s palms up against the end of the box. Now I notice that the box is shaking, ever so slightly. I think Jimmy is trying to get Finn to feel the music.
“I got nine lives,” Jimmy sings along, “Cat’s eyes. Abusin’ every one of them and running wild . . .”
My tail twitches violently. Did he just say something about a cat?
Mary comes running in. “WHAT THE—?”
But then she sees what is happening. She raises one eyebrow.
“AC/DC?” she asks. “‘Back in Black’?”
“Yeah,” Jimmy yells over the music.
Mary puts her hands on her hips and frowns. “I guess you don’t have to worry about blowing his ears out,” she shouts.
“WHAT?”
“Never mind.”
It’s hard to tell if Finn is feeling the music or not, but he seems to like sitting in Jimmy’s lap and touching the box.
“Your phone is ringing,” Mary says.
“WHAT?”
She points. “PHONE.”
Jimmy shuts off the music, lifts Finn out of his lap in one swift motion to plop him on the rug, and grabs the phone. “Hey, sweetheart.” He presses the phone to his ear and looks at Mary, pointing at Finn. She sits down with Finn when Jimmy leaves the room and heads out into the hall.
Ah, the music is over. Blessed relief.
Mary reaches for the button. Have I spoken too soon?
Again, there is static, and then different types of music burst forth as she spins the dial. Finally Mary settles on a song that is much different from the last one.
I still hate it. All music sounds horrible to me.
After sitting Finn up on his bottom and leaning him on pillows so that he is facing her, Mary crosses her legs and sits up straight. She makes her hand into a fist, holds it near her mouth, and starts singing into her hand.
It’s a love song, I believe, judging by the faces Mary makes as she sings. I think she looks quite lovely, and I can feel the longing and heartache she is trying to communicate, even though I can’t stand the music. Finn watches her, enraptured. Mary uses her hands to illustrate some of the words, and the sadness on her face almost brings tears to my eyes, even though I realize she is acting.
A moving shadow catches my eye, and from where I sit under the crib I see Jimmy and Father standing in the doorway. Mary’s back is to them, and she is unaware they have snuck up behind her. Father folds his arms, leaning against the door frame, and he looks amused. Jimmy grins.
Mary is surprised when she turns and sees them, and she hides her face in her hands. “Were you listening?” She laughs, hard. “I’m so embarrassed.” She turns back to the big black box. “Oh. This next song is beautiful too. Do you guys know this song? It’s on the radio all the time.”
Jimmy says something about never listening to crappy pop songs. Father just shrugs. He doesn’t seem to know the song either. He’s been preoccupied lately, and probably isn’t aware of all of the songs that important people like Mary know.
Mary picks Finn up off the floor and holds him in her arms as she sings to him. It is a nice song, I think, not too loud. Earnest and serious and slow, Mary sings the love song right to Finn, rocking him back and forth. Finn is getting very big in her arms, and he smiles at her. Jimmy wanders away, patting his dad on the back, but Father stays and listens, tipping his head.
Mary sings a verse or two, until she turns her head to look at her father and sees the expression on his face. Her voice fades out. And then she stops.
“Oh.” She looks embarrassed all over again. Mary glances down at her feet. “It’s okay, Dad. I didn’t mean to—”
He reassures her that he’s fine.
“Sorry. You just looked so . . .”
Father tells her that he’s fine again, and turns away. He walks down the hall and goes into his own bedroom. The door clicks shut behind him.
“Don’t quit your day job, Mare!” Jimmy yells from somewhere down the hall.
Mary stands there. She walks over and clicks off the box.
“No worries, baby,” she says to Finn. “Just a momentary blip in the program. A bump in the road.” She kisses his fat cheek. “Just a little hiccup. We don’t need that music anyway, do we?”
Finn seems to agree as he pulls a clump of Mary’s hair into his mouth with a big smile. I blink my eyes at him.
When Mary lies down on the rug next to Finn, I approach and snuggle right next to the baby, so he is sandwiched between the two of us. It reminds me of how I used to lie between Mother and Father, and it was the best feeling in the world. It makes me happy knowing I can give this feeling to someone else, and it makes me doubly satisfied to know I can comfort the baby. He will never hear me meow. But when his little hand clumsily touches my fur, I hope he knows that I am on his side.
A tall, dark shadow appears at the doorway. It is Jimmy again, coming back to his room, and he finds all of us lying on his rug. Without a word, he lies down at our feet and stretches out.
The four of us make a good team.
I wonder again if Mother will return and want some of us to go home with her.
What if she does?
And if she does, who will go? One of us may have to go.
I wonder if it will be me.