fwhatmightbeinmyhouse,worriedaboutmymanuscript.Mybedroomty.Inoursonsroomanotherwindowhadbeenbroken,butnoglasslitteredthefloor.Shardsontheroofmeantthewindowhadbeenshatteredfromthei.Toclearmyhead,Isatforamomentontheedgeofhisbed.Hisroomlookedthesameasthedayhedleftforthevacation,andthoughtsofEdwardandTessfilledmewithsuddensorroouldIexplainthemissingsymphony?Withoutit,howcouldIfessmytruenature?Ipulledatmywethairtillmyscalpached.Inmymind,mywife,myson,andmymusicwerewoundtogetherinabraidedthatnowthreateounravel.

    Ihroom,theshowerranandran.Acloudofsteambillowedoutintothehallway,andIstumbledthroughthefogtoshutoffthewater.Ontheetmirror,someonehadfingeredwordsonthefoggedsurface:WeNoYourSecret.Copiedabove,notefornote,wasthefirstmeasureofmyscore.

    "Youlittlefuckers,"Isaidtomyselfasthemessagevanishedfromthemirror.

    Afterarestlessandlonesomenight,Idrovetomymothershouseasanewdaybegan.Whenshedidnotimmediatelyanswermyknock,Ithoughtshemightstillbeasleep,aovertothewindowtolookin.Fromthekit,shesawmestandingthere,smiled,andwavedmetoher.

    "Doorsneverlocked,"shesaid."Whatbringsyouhereinthemiddleoftheweek?"

    "Go.taguyeandseehisbestgirl?"

    "Oh,youresuawfulliar.Wouldyoulikeacupofcoffee?HowaboutIfryyouacoupleofeggs?"Shebusiedherselfatthestove,andIsatatthekittable,itssurfacepockedwithmarksleftfromdroppedpotsandpans,nickedbyknives,andlihfaintimpressionsofletterswrittehemlightstirredmemoriesofourfirstbreakfasttogether.