Love and Other Foreign Words by Erin McCahan EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Author: Erin McCahan
- Language: English
- Genre: Women’s Divorce Fiction
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
There must be a way to figure this out.
I contemplate the possible formulae lying on Stu’s bed, staring at the
ceiling but seeing only x’s and y’s and parentheses and question marks.
Across the room, Stu sits with his back to me at his keyboard, playing an
occasional combination of chords and pausing to write or erase musical
hieroglyphics in a notebook.
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“It can’t be done,” I say. “There are too many variables.”
“That’s what I’ve been saying,” he says.
“But I have to know.”
“I think you can live without knowing this. I know I can.”
I sit up, adjust my glasses, and notice a loose thread in the brick-red
stripe of his serape-style blanket.
“You need to fix this before it comes undone,” I say.
“Fix what?”
I tell him.
“Just yank it,” he says.
“I’m not yanking it.”
“Then ignore it.”
“You realize I can never sleep under this blanket with this thread as it is.
The thought of it would plague me all night.”
“Were you going to?” he asks, looking over his shoulder at me.
“Well, I’m not going to now.”
“Suggesting you were going to at some point?”
“Suggesting no matter where I sleep in the future, it will not be under
this blanket.”
“I was not aware our friendship included sleepovers,” he says. “Will we
be doing each other’s hair as well?”
“Yes. I long to see you in an up-do.”
“Okay, listen to this,” he says, and proceeds to play, to perfection, the
gorgeously trilling introduction of one of the greatest songs of all time,
“Come Sail Away.” (Words and music by Dennis DeYoung, former lead
singer of Styx and now a composer, Broadway performer, and all-around
superlative human being. I believe in his spare time he rescues stranded
motorists across the country, chases purse-snatchers, and donates blood and
plasma until the Red Cross temporarily bans him for his own good.
Somewhere in his closet there must be a cape.)
Then Stu sings—and only Stu, as far as my listening experience extends,
could do Dennis DeYoung justice, which is the highest compliment I can
pay to any singing person. Stu sings in a couple of choirs and is so
musically gifted that our high school choir director often consults him on
arrangements for musicals and ensembles. I have a mere average singing
voice myself, and the utter inability to play any instrument. I took piano
lessons when I was nine for the longest six months of my life. The whole
thing made no sense to me, and my teacher refused to answer my list of why
questions. Why assign fingers to keys? Why include a tie? Why do you
need a damper pedal; why not just not play that note? Why won’t you teach
me how to tune this thing? Why are there no blue pianos? No, really, why
are there no blue pianos?
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