The Sleeping Wall

Jane M. Downs
up and down. He has his own rifle. He wants to yell, to hear his voice vibrate through the lifting
haze. He stamps his feet. A few stones tumble down the wall. One hits the trigger of his rifle. A
shot tears through the silent woods into his father’s arm.
4
His mother plays Beethoven on the stereo. His sisters rest their heads in her lap. He reads his
father’s history books. Stories of heroism, defeat, victory. Hands joined to text, he takes in what
was once in his father’s mind. In his closet, the German helmet, medals, a brass belt buckle.
The horses rub against the fence. Their muscles twitch without their knowing. They nuzzle sugar,
their lips a whisper in his palm. Their muffled sounds at night.
Light steals over the piano hood. It has always been there, waiting. Lessons in town with the
beautiful teacher. The quiet of her home. Mechanics of string, pedals, hands. Notes march across
the page, the mystery underneath.
He plays for his sisters. Music floods into him. It obliterates the sound of the shot reverberating
through the woodland. His memory of abandoning his father and running to the pond. Birds
calling. Cold sun. He held his breath, sat on his hands, waiting for someone to find him.
The way the horses pace. He wraps his arms around their necks. Their pleasing animal odor.
5
James wakes to the gathered quiet of dawn. His stack of books, the orderly row of lead soldiers
on his desk. The walls of his room. Safety. A place his father is not.
Each day he hears the gunshot ring. His father doesn’t touch him anymore.
Water runs through the pipes. Footsteps heavy in the hall. His father bangs on his door, telling
him to get up. Silence breaks. Steam rises from dishwater. His mother’s cheeks flushed; her red
hands.
After school, his mother plays her records. James at the corner desk. Clock ticking beneath a
picture of a hunting scene. Music mingles with the words he reads. Analyze, memorize until the
mind is drained and contentment comes. His failures buried beneath facts, theories, images—
musical notes that circle around him.
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