Teddy’s Waltz Leon rose slowly into wakefulness, rising gradually from a shallowpool. Always, he waitedfor her call, always, he listenedfor her movements. This night he lay quietly, unsure o f how long he had slept. He wondered i f she would call out his name tonight. I t had been days since she had used his name. A l l week she had talked to h im in the thirdperson. This evening she had been eating her potatoes when she looked at him and said, “Where's that man who 'shere all the time?" By Reva Rasmussen • Design by Kim Klein •Art by Patricia Canelake “ What do you mean? What man?” “That man who takes care of me.” “Me? I’m the one who takes care of you. I’m right here.” “ No, that man. He cooks for me and gets me up in the morning. He’s here all the time.” “That’s me.” She looked at him, confused. “ He does a good job.” Her eyes shifted from his to her plate. He sighed. It was an odd disease. She dropped her spoon noisily. / f n r t ’s Teddy’s birthday,” she • • I said. “ It’s Teddy’s birthday now.” He looked down at J L his roast beef, pushed it aside, got up from the table and went into his bedroom. He pulled his violin case out from under the bed and took out the polished warm wood and bow. He brought it into the dining room and tucked it under his chin. “ Is this what you want, Christina?” She looked at him expectantly. He bowed it. The pitch was good. At the first sound she smiled. He struck out in a waltz tempo. It was a simple waltz with a distinct beat. It was a waltz to teach a child to dance. He had written it for their son’s tenth birthday. The boy had scarlet fever and they were frightened that they 10 Clinton St. Quarterly—Fall, 1989
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