Now You See Her Page 0,66
“And I saw all these black and red and green swirls all over my new, eggshell-colored walls. I mean, she’d scribbled over every spot of wall she could reach. And I’m looking from this happy little face to these graffiti-covered walls, and I’m thinking of all the money I’ve just spent, and I feel this anger rising inside me like lava from a volcano, and this little voice in my head is telling me to stay calm, not to overreact, that I might be able to wash it off, and that even if I can’t, I can get the painters to come back and redo it, it’s not the end of the world, all the things I’d just been saying to Judith. And I could see how thrilled Devon was, and that she was waiting for me to tell her how beautiful her drawings were, and I knew, I knew, that’s what I should do, that I could wait till later to explain that we don’t draw on walls, that sort of thing, what all the advice books tell you to do. But even as I was thinking those things, I could feel my anger building and the muscles in my face starting to twitch with rage, and I watched Devon’s face, that beautiful little face filled with so much pride and happiness, I watched it literally dissolve in front of my eyes, like it was melting. And I heard this awful voice, my voice, screaming, ‘What have you done? My God, what have you done?’ And Devon was crying, begging me to stop yelling. But I couldn’t. And I marched into the dining room and saw she’d done the same thing in there, which just set me off again. I’m screaming and carrying on. And suddenly she stopped dead and grabbed her stomach, like she’d been punched, and then she turned around so that her back was to me, and doubled over, as if I’d physically assaulted her, and she let out a wail, God, this awful wail, I’ll never forget it, like a wounded animal. It was horrible. It was so horrible.”
“Marcy,” Liam said gently, reaching for her hand, “Devon didn’t run away because you yelled at her when she was two years old for scribbling on the walls.”
“She was only a baby. I was the adult. I didn’t have to yell.…”
“No, you didn’t. But you did. So what? It was two decades ago. Devon probably doesn’t even remember it.”
“There were other times.”
“What—that you yelled at her? That you were less than perfect? You’re a human being, for God’s sake. Human beings make mistakes. We yell when we shouldn’t, and we probably don’t yell when we should. I’m sure there were plenty of times you more than made it up to her.”
Marcy refused to allow herself to be comforted by his words. “When Devon was about eight, I decided it would be a good idea for her to take piano lessons. We had this baby grand piano that Peter had inherited from his mother, which just sat there in the corner gathering dust, and occasionally Devon would go over and bang on it, so I thought it would be a good idea for her to learn to play. She seemed keen, so we hired this guy to come over and give her lessons. She was a natural. Except I noticed that when her teacher wasn’t there, when he wasn’t actually sitting beside her, she was hopeless. I’d tell her to practice and she’d just sit there and bang at the keyboard. And I’d get so frustrated—”
Liam interrupted. “Marcy, why are you doing this?”
“That’s exactly what I’d say to Devon. Why are you doing this? You know the right notes. They’re right there in front of you. Just read the music. Well, of course, it turned out she didn’t know the right notes. She couldn’t read the music. Her teacher had never taught her the basic fundamentals, like how to tell one note from the next, so she’d just watch what he played and copy his fingers. And of course by the next day, she couldn’t remember anymore and that’s why she’d just flail away.…”
“When I was five, my mother caught me in the kitchen, eating the pie she’d baked for company that night, and she came at me with a meat cleaver,” Liam said.
“What?”
“Well, she insists it was a wooden spoon, but I’m sure it was a meat cleaver. And once she gave me a spanking for putting