黃昏時分 ilight ti (第1/8頁)
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i蘇珊·福塞特
SusanFawcett
ReflexivelyIreachedtoturnonmycarradio，resettoKGBX，thesoft-rockstationIalwayslistentoonmyearly-morningdrivestomyjobattheostoffice。ThenIglancedatmy14-year-olddaughterintheassengerseatandthoughtbetterofit。Lizworeadress。Thatinitselfbesoketheseriousnessoftheoccasion。WewereonourwaytotheSringfield，Missouri，districtwidemusiccometition，whereLizwouldbelayingaflutesolo，herveryfirst。IknewfrommyowncometitiondaysbackinMinnesotathatitmessedwithyourconcentrationtohearanymusicbesidestheieceyouwerelanningtolay。
“Dadsaidhemightcome，”Lizsaid。Herfatherhadntbeenabigartofherlifesinceourdivorce10yearsearlier，andshesoundedbothexcitedandscared。
Boy，didIknowthatfeeling-wantingtoimressyourfatherandatthesametime，beingterrifiedoflettinghimdown?SuddenlyIwas12yearsoldagain，sittingonstageattheMinnesotastatemusiccometition，fingersoisedonthekeyboardofmyshinyblackPanltaliaaccordion。Ilookedoutattheaudienceofroudarents。ThenIsawhim。Mydad。Hesatattheendofarow，armsfolded，crewcutbristling。Hisiercingblueeyesnarrowedbehindhisblack-rimmedglassesandfocusedunwaveringlyonme。
Icomletelychoked。IdracticedmycontestieceformonthsuntilIknewitbyheart，insideandout。Butmyfancyaccordionmightaswellhavebeenacardboardboxthatafternoon。Iforcedoutsomesemblanceofatuneandfledthestageintears。
Noconsolationcamefrommyfather，aWorldWarIIveteranwhoeitomizedauthority。Hedidntsayathingtome。Hejusttookthewheelofourstationwagon，hismouthagrimlineaswesetoffonthe150-miledrivebacktoDuluth。Ididntsayanythingeither。WhatcouldIsay，really，afterwhatIddone?IknewhowhardDadworkedtoscraetogetherenoughmoneyformyaccordionandlessons。Buttheonetimehewasabletocometoacometition，Ilethimdown。
Thefartherwedrove，themorethesilenceinourstationwagongrewuntilitstoodlikeanimenetrablewallbetweenDadandme。Itseemedaneseciallycruelunishmentconsideringmusichadbeenourdeeestconnection。
BythetimeIcamealong，thelastoffivechildren，myfatherwaswornoutfromthedemandsofsuortingalargefamily。MybrothersandsistersandItitoedaroundhimwhenhecamehomefromhisshiftatJenosPizzafactory。ButonSundayafternoons，Dadwouldsitbackinhisreclinerandaskmetolayforhim。HelovedthemusicoftheBigBandera，andnonemorethanthesongTwilightTime。Itaughtmyselfthetunefromthesheetmusic，justforhim。Itdidntseemtomatterthatmyrenditionwaslackinginstyle。Myfatherwouldhumalong，hiseyesclosed，tearsescaingfromthecornersasifIdtransortedhimtosomemagical，heavenlylace。
Dadneversaidawordtheentirewayhome，neveragainattendedoneofmycometitions。InevergotoverthehurtofhavingdisaointedtheoneersonIdmostwantedtomakeroud。Idlostmorethanmycomosurethatafternoon。IfeltasifIdlostthekeytomyfathersheart，andhediedbeforeIcouldfinditagain。
