before bed. Mom would dim the lights and Dad would push PLAY on the CD player on the fireplace mantel and we’d all dance. I’d stand on the coffee table and my parents would hold my hands. I’d belt out the words. I knew them by heart, which was funny, because I’d never really
thought
about the words before, though I’d sung the song all my life.
Suddenly wide-awake, I stared at the ceiling as I sang along under my breath. I couldn’t stop myself. What a weird coincidence!
That
song, sent to me now, as if by magic. I felt like there was a ghost in the room. How had the bread box known?
Got a wife and kids in Baltimore, Jack
.
I went out for a ride and I never went back …
I’d always loved to shout out the word
Baltimore
with my dad. As if the fact that it was about
our
city made it somehow
our
song, as if the fact that anyone would write a song about our dirty city made it less dirty. Made us famous. Made us matter.
I sang along with those words, and it was like I’d never heard them before in my life. How had I never paid attention until now?
Kids? Never went back?
I’d never thought about the kids before, or the never going back. It had only been a song to jump around to with the lights down. It was a loud song, a dancing kind of song. The kind of song you played air guitar to. Dad always pretended he had a saxophone.
I stopped singing along and listened carefully.
Like a river that don’t know where it’s flowin’,
I took a wrong turn and I just kept goin’ …
Who would
do
that? Keep going after a wrong turn? What kind of person stayed away? And why? The voice in the song sounded so sad, so hungry, even though the music was fast. Why didn’t he just go back? I thought about my mom. I couldn’t help it.
Everybody’s got a hungry heart
.
Everybody’s got a hungry heart
.
Lay down your money and you play your part
.
Everybody’s got a hu-u-ungry heart
.
I pulled out my earbuds and buried the iPod beneath the pillow, but I couldn’t get rid of the feeling that something was wrong.
I tried to remind myself of Dad on the phone, saying that he was looking for a job, that he might even go back to teaching, which would make Mom
so
happy. I thought about Dad saying he missed me. I thought about my mom saying she just needed to think things over. I reminded myself that I had a bread box full of wishes. It would all be
fine
. Everything would work out. I told myself that.
But underneath all that was the song, repeating. I couldn’t block the memory of the three of us, dancing in the warm light of the living room. My parents laughing. My mother’s head tossed back so that her hair hung down her back. My father’s big warm hand holding my hand, holding me up, balanced, so that I didn’t fall off the coffee table. I remembered knowing that I would never fall off. I knew, I knew, I
knew
that they loved each other. Didn’t we all want to be happy still? Together? How could they ever work things out if they weren’t together? Why were we so far apart?
Right then my mom startled me, yelling out, “Rebecca, please come help us set the table for dinner!” And I remembered why.
Even so, I headed for the door, because suddenly I needed to get away from the song, and my thoughts. However I felt about Mom, I wanted to be in the warm kitchen with everyone. I didn’t want to be alone, but I wasn’t going to talk to her, like I had at breakfast. I wasn’t going to talk to her until she fixed things and took us home.
Still, it was nice to eat the chicken noodle casserole that she and Gran had made. It was good to hear them talking about nothing much. It felt normal. I sat next to Lew and watched him make a mess of his plate. I couldn’t help laughing at him, all covered in chicken glop. Whatever else was different, Lew was the same. He was two and I was twelve, but we were both stuck in this place together. We played I Spy as we ate, and then I wiped his face and hands. After dinner, Gran and I
thought
about the words before, though I’d sung the song all my life.
Suddenly wide-awake, I stared at the ceiling as I sang along under my breath. I couldn’t stop myself. What a weird coincidence!
That
song, sent to me now, as if by magic. I felt like there was a ghost in the room. How had the bread box known?
Got a wife and kids in Baltimore, Jack
.
I went out for a ride and I never went back …
I’d always loved to shout out the word
Baltimore
with my dad. As if the fact that it was about
our
city made it somehow
our
song, as if the fact that anyone would write a song about our dirty city made it less dirty. Made us famous. Made us matter.
I sang along with those words, and it was like I’d never heard them before in my life. How had I never paid attention until now?
Kids? Never went back?
I’d never thought about the kids before, or the never going back. It had only been a song to jump around to with the lights down. It was a loud song, a dancing kind of song. The kind of song you played air guitar to. Dad always pretended he had a saxophone.
I stopped singing along and listened carefully.
Like a river that don’t know where it’s flowin’,
I took a wrong turn and I just kept goin’ …
Who would
do
that? Keep going after a wrong turn? What kind of person stayed away? And why? The voice in the song sounded so sad, so hungry, even though the music was fast. Why didn’t he just go back? I thought about my mom. I couldn’t help it.
Everybody’s got a hungry heart
.
Everybody’s got a hungry heart
.
Lay down your money and you play your part
.
Everybody’s got a hu-u-ungry heart
.
I pulled out my earbuds and buried the iPod beneath the pillow, but I couldn’t get rid of the feeling that something was wrong.
I tried to remind myself of Dad on the phone, saying that he was looking for a job, that he might even go back to teaching, which would make Mom
so
happy. I thought about Dad saying he missed me. I thought about my mom saying she just needed to think things over. I reminded myself that I had a bread box full of wishes. It would all be
fine
. Everything would work out. I told myself that.
But underneath all that was the song, repeating. I couldn’t block the memory of the three of us, dancing in the warm light of the living room. My parents laughing. My mother’s head tossed back so that her hair hung down her back. My father’s big warm hand holding my hand, holding me up, balanced, so that I didn’t fall off the coffee table. I remembered knowing that I would never fall off. I knew, I knew, I
knew
that they loved each other. Didn’t we all want to be happy still? Together? How could they ever work things out if they weren’t together? Why were we so far apart?
Right then my mom startled me, yelling out, “Rebecca, please come help us set the table for dinner!” And I remembered why.
Even so, I headed for the door, because suddenly I needed to get away from the song, and my thoughts. However I felt about Mom, I wanted to be in the warm kitchen with everyone. I didn’t want to be alone, but I wasn’t going to talk to her, like I had at breakfast. I wasn’t going to talk to her until she fixed things and took us home.
Still, it was nice to eat the chicken noodle casserole that she and Gran had made. It was good to hear them talking about nothing much. It felt normal. I sat next to Lew and watched him make a mess of his plate. I couldn’t help laughing at him, all covered in chicken glop. Whatever else was different, Lew was the same. He was two and I was twelve, but we were both stuck in this place together. We played I Spy as we ate, and then I wiped his face and hands. After dinner, Gran and I
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