The Talk-Funny Girl
“the way we lifted stones up to the top courses of the walls with the ramp, wagon, and pulley. It made me happy to hear him say that. I was beginning to believe I had some real value to him, as a worker. And, as the worst of the fear lifted a little ways away from me, I was beginning to see—slowly and against strong waves of doubt—that he had some interest in me that went beyond the cathedral project. Sometimes I’d lift my eyes from the work and catch him looking at me, and he’d quickly try to p...retend he hadn’t been. When he drove me into town at the end of the day and waited to see that I got safely onto the Watsonboro-bound bus, I had the sense that he might be a person who could protect me from my father, or Cary Patanauk, or Pastor Schect. I could feel that he enjoyed my company, enjoyed sitting across from me when he had dinner at Aunt Elaine’s. When he drove me to Watsonboro on those nights, he put music on his radio and said very little, but I was accustomed to that in people and preferred it to Aunt Elaine’s talk, which was pleasant enough, but, as the weeks went on, would veer in close to subjects I didn’t yet want to think about—my parents, my future.MoreLess
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