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—206
CARSON McCULLBRS
Carole Lombard and Arturo Toscanini and Admiral Byrd。
And she could play the Beethoven symphony any time she
wanted to。 It was a queer thing about this music she had heard
last autumn。 The symphony stayed inside her always and grew
little by little。 The reason was this： the whole symphony was
in her mind。 It had to be。 She had heard every note； and
somewhere in the back of her mind the whole of the music
was still there just as it had been played。 But she could do
nothing to bring it all out again。 Except wait and be ready for
the times when suddenly a new part came to her。 Wait for it to
grow like leaves grow slowly on the branches of a spring oak
tree。
In the inside room； along with music； there was Mister Singer。
Every afternoon as soon as she finished playing on the piano
in the gym she walked down the main street past the store
where he worked。 From the front window she couldn't see
Mister Singer。 He worked in the back； behind a curtain。 But
she looked at the store where he stayed every day and saw the
people he knew。 Then every night she waited on the front
porch for him to come home。 Sometimes she followed him
upstairs。 She sat on the bed and watched him put away his hat
and undo the button on bis collar and brush his hair。 For some
reason it was like they had a secret together。 Or like they
waited to tell each other things that had never been said
before。
He was the only person in the inside room。 A long time ago
there had been others。 She thought back and remembered how
it was before he came。 She remembered a girl way back in the
sixth grade named Celeste。 This girl had straight blonde hair
and a turned…up nose and freckles。 She wore a red…wool
jumper with a white blouse。 She walked pigeon…toed。 Every
day she brought an orange for little recess and a blue tin box
of lunch for big recess。 Other kids would gobble the food they
had brought at little recess and then were hungry later—but
not Celeste。 She pulled off the crusts of her sandwiches and
ate only the soft middle part。 Always she had a stuffed hardboiled egg and she would hold it in her hand； mashing the
yellow with her thumb so that the print of her finger was left
there。
Celeste never talked to her and she never talked to Celeste。
Although that was what she wanted more than anything else。
At night she would lie awake and think about
207 Celeste。 She would plan that they were best friends and
think about the time when Celeste could come home with her
to eat supper and spend the night。 But that never happened。
The way she felt about Celeste would never let her go up and
make friends with her like she would any other person。 After a
year Celeste moved to another part of town and went to
another school。
Then there was a boy called Buck。 He was big and had
pimples on his face。 When she stood by him in line to march
in at eight…thirty he smelled bad—like bis britches needed
airing。 Buck did a nose dive at the principal once and was
suspended。 When he laughed he lifted his upper lip and shook
all over。 She thought about him like she had thought about
Celeste。 Then there was the lady who sold lottery tickets for a
turkey raffle。 And Miss Anglin； who taught the seventh grade。
And Carole Lombard in the movies。 All of them。
But with Mister Singer there was a difference。 The way she
felt about him came on her slowly； and she could not think
back and realize just how it happened。 The other people had
been ordinary； but Mister Singer was not The first day he rang
the doorbell to ask about a room she had looked a long time
into his face。 She had opened the door and read over the card
he handed her。 Then she called her Mama and went back in
the kitchen to tell Portia and Bubber about him。 She followed
him and her Mama up the stairs and watched him poke the
mattress on the bed and roll up the shades to see if they
worked。 The day he moved she sat on the front porch banisters
and watched him get out of the ten…cent taxi with his suitcase
and his chessboard。 Then later she listened to him thump
around in his room and imagined about him。 The rest came in
a gradual way。 So that now there was this secret feeling
between them。 She talked to him more than she had ever
talked to a person before。 And if he could have talked he
would have told her many things。 It was like he was some kind
of a great teacher； only because he was a mute he did not
teach。 In the bed at night she planned about how she was an
orphan and lived with Mister Singer—just the two of them in
a foreign house where in the winter it would snow。 Maybe in a
little Switzerland town with the high glaciers and the
mountains all around。 Where rocks were208
CARSON McCULLERS
on top of all the houses and the roofs were steep and pointed。
Or in France where the people carried home bread from the
store without its being wrapped。 Or in the foreign country of
Norway by the gray winter ocean。
In the morning the first thing she would think of him。 Along
with music。 When she put on her dress she wondered where
she would see him that day。 She used some of Etta's perfume
or a drop of vanilla so that if she met him in the hall she
would smell good。 She went to school late so she could see
him come down the stairs on his way to work。 And in the
afternoon and night she never left the house if he was there。
Each new thing she learned about him was important。 He kept
his toothbrush and toothpaste in a glass on his table。 So
instead of leaving her toothbrush on the bathroom shelf she
kept it in a glass； also。 He didn't like cabbage。 Harry； who
worked for Mister Brannon； mentioned that to her。 Now she
couldn't eat cabbage either。 When she learned new facts about
him； or when she said something to him and he wrote a few
words with his silver pencil； she had to be off by herself for a
long time to think it over。 When she was with him the main
thought in her mind was to store up everything so that later
she could live it over and remember。
But in the inside room with music and Mister Singer was not
all。 Many things happened in the outside room。 She fell down
the stairs and broke off one of her front teeth。 Miss Minner
gave her two bad cards in English。 She lost a quarter in a
vacant lot； and although she and George hunted for three days
they never found it This happened：
One afternoon she was studying for an English test out on the
back steps。 Harry began to chop wood over on his side of the
fence and she hollered to him。 He came and diagrammed a
few sentences for her。 His eyes were quick behind his horn
rimmed glasses。 After he explained the English to her he stood
up and jerked his hands in and out the pockets of his
lumberjack。 Harry was always full of energy； nervous； and he
had to be talking or doing something every minute。
'You see； there's just two things nowadays；' he said。
He liked to surprise people and sometimes she didn't know
how to answer him。
'It's the truth； there's just two things ahead nowadays。
'
。What？'
'Militant Democracy or Fascism。'
'Don't you like Republicans？'
'Shucks；' Harry said。 'That's not what I mean。'
He had explained all about the Fascists one afternoon。 He told
how the Nazis made little Jew children get down on their
hands and knees and eat grass from the ground。 He told about
how he planned to assassinate Hitler。 He had it all worked out
thoroughly。 He told about how there wasn't any justice or
freedom hi Fascism。 He said the newspapers wrote deliberate
lies and people didn't know what was going on in the world。
The Nazis were terrible—everybody knew that。 She plotted
with him to kill Hitler。 It would be better to have four or five
people in the conspiracy so that if one missed him the others
could bump him off just the same。 And even if they died they
would all be heroes。 To be a hero was almost like being a
great musician。
'Either one or the other。 And although I don't believe in war
I'm ready to fight for what I know is right'
'Me too；' she said。 'I'd like to fight the Fascists。 I could dress
up like a boy and nobody could ever telL Cut my hair off and
all。'
It was a bright winter afternoon。 The sky was blue…green and
the branches of the oak trees in the back yard were black and
bare against this color。 The sun was warm。 The day made her
feel full of energy。 Music was hi her mind。 Just to be doing
something she picked up a ten…penny nail and drove it into the
steps with a few good wallops。 Their Dad heard the sound of
the hammer and came out in his bathrobe to stand around
awhile。 Under the tree there were two carpenter's horses； and
little Ralph was busy putting a rock on top of one and then
carrying it over to the other one。 Back and forth。 He walked
with his hands out to balance himself。 He was bowlegged and
his diapers dragged down to his knees。 George was shooting
marbles。 Because he needed a haircut his face looked thin。
Some of his permanent teeth had already come—but they
were210
small and blue like he had been eating blackberries。 He
drew a lin