Anne Tyler - The Tin Can Tree

Then Simon said, 'Um, why Andy Point's parents won't speak to each other -'and Mrs Hammond looked up at him. 'Why they sit in their parlour in chairs faced back to back,' he said, 'all dates back to Sunday a week. Least that's what Andy says. But I couldn't hardly believe it, it was such a little thing that set them fighting.'

'It's nearly always little things,' said Mrs Hammond. Mrs Pike nodded and took a packet of pins out of her spool box.

'They were on their way to church, see,' Simon said. 'Andy was along. They made him come. When suddenly they passed this sign saying, "Craig Church two miles, visitors welcome," Mrs Point she said, "Why, I never have seen that before." Just being conversational. And Mr Point says, "Well, I don't know why not. It's been there a year or more," he says. "No it ain't," Mrs Point says. "Yes, it has," Mr Point says…'

'Well, now, isn't that typical,' said Mrs Hammond. She turned slightly, but Mrs Pike pulled her back again to pin two pieces of cloth together at the waist. Mrs Pike's mouth was full of pins, and her eyes were frowning at everything her fingers did.

'So anyway,' Simon said, 'that was what began it. Andy says he never saw such a thing. He says they've even had to order another.newspaper subscription, because they wouldn't share the one between them.'

'If that isn't the limit,' said Mrs Hammond. 'Ouch, Lou.'

'Oh, I'm sorry,' said Mrs Pike. Everyone looked toward her, but she only went on pinning and didn't say any more, so Mrs Hammond took up where she had left off.

'What doesn't make sense,' she told Simon, 'is Mary Point's nature. She's not the type to bear a grudge.'

'Oh, it won't her fault,' said Simon. 'Andy says she had forgot about it. She just went on into church and never thought a thing about it. But then at dinner, Mr Point wouldn't eat what she had cooked and made himself a sandwich right after. That's a sign he's mad. Mrs Point said, "Andy," she said, "I'll be. Is your daddy mad about something?" And Andy said, "Well, I reckon he's mad you said that sign wasn't there." So she said, "Oh, I had forgot all about that," but then it was too late. Now she's mad at him for being mad, and it don't look like it's ever going to end.'

'You haven't lost a pound,' Mrs Pike said. She had finished pinning the pieces together now, and she was shaking her head at how tightly they fit.

'I have too,' said Mrs Hammond. 'You allow a good inch for the dress I'm wearing underneath it, Lou.' She acted as if it were perfectly natural that Mrs Pike was speaking, but right on the tail of her words she shot Joan a meaningful glance. Joan nodded, although privately she didn't feel too sure of anything yet. But Simon kept on bravely, with his hands clutching the edge of the couch and his eyes on his mother, even though it was Mrs Hammond he was speaking to.

'I asked him,' he said, 'I asked, "Andy, how you think you're going to end it?” And Andy says, "Same way it started, I reckon. By accident."'

'Well, no,' said Mrs Pike, and once again everyone's attention was on her alone. She removed the pins from her mouth and laid them on the sewing table, and then she said, 'It's not that easy. Why sure, one of them might speak by accident. Mary might. Then Sid might answer, being glad she'd spoken first, but by then Mary would have caught herself. She'd feel silly to speak first, and only snap his head off again. It's not that easy.'

'No, you're right,' said Mrs Hammond, and Joan thought she would have agreed no matter what her aunt had said. 'You have to think about the -'

The telephone rang. Mrs Hammond stopped speaking, and Simon leaped over to pick up the receiver. 'Hello?' he said. 'What?' He was silent a minute. 'No, I knew about it. I knew, I just forgot. Well, thank you anyway. Bye.' He hung up.

'Who was that?' asked Mrs Hammond.

'Just that station.'

'What?'

'Just that radio station. They got this jackpot on. They call you up and if you don't say, "Hello," if you say instead, "I am listening to WKKJ, the all-day swinging station – "'

'I've heard about that,' Mrs Hammond said.

'If he'd just called before, boy. It's not me who was prepared for them to -'

Mrs Pike's spool box went clattering on the floor. All the colours of thread went every which-way, rolling out their tails behind them, and Mrs Hammond said. 'Why, Lou,' but Mrs Pike didn't answer. She had crumpled up against her sewing machine, leaning her forehead against the wheel of it and clenching both fists tightly against her stomach. 'Lou!' Mrs Hammond said sharply. She looked at Joan and Simon, and they stared back. 'Did something happen?'

'I said something,' Simon told her.

Mrs Hammond kept watching him, but he didn't explain any further. Finally she turned back to Mrs Pike and said, 'Sit up, Lou,' and pulled her by the shoulders, struggling against the dead weight of her. 'What's the matter?' she asked. She looked into Mrs Pike's face, at her dry wide eyes and the white mark that the sewing-machine wheel had made down the centre of her forehead. 'What's the matter?' she asked again. But Mrs Pike only rocked back and forth, and Simon and Joan stared at the floor.

All Tuesday morning, Ansel had visitors. The first one was Joan. She mustn't have stayed long because she came and went while James was emptying the garbage, which only took a minute. When he returned Ansel said, 'Joan's been here,' and then dumped a cupped handful of sunflower hulls into an ashtray and sat down to read the paper.

'What'd she want?' James asked.

'Oh, nothing,' said Ansel. He opened the paper out and stayed hidden behind it, with just one tuft of pale hair on the top of his head exposed to view. 'You won't have to work tobacco today,' he added as an afterthought.

'How's that?'

But Ansel didn't answer. Ever since he had awakened he had been angry; James could tell by his long silences, but he knew there was no point asking what was wrong. So he went on fixing breakfast, and while he was doing that he figured out that Joan must have come to say her uncle was working today. He flipped over a fried egg that was burning and called, 'Ansel?'

'Hmmm.'

'Is Roy Pike working today?'

But that was another question he never got the answer to. All he heard was the steady thumping of Ansel's foot (Ansel kept time to everything he read, as if it were a poem) and the crackling of newspaper pages. He didn't try asking again.

The second visitor was Maisie Hammond. She came while Ansel was eating breakfast off the Japanese tray, and when she walked in Ansel said, 'Um. Maisie,' and went on munching on his fried egg. (It was one of those days when James had brought a tray without being asked, simply because it was more comfortable to eat in the kitchen alone. Ansel had said, Well. I see you've taken up cooking again,' which hadn't even made sense.) Maisie was wearing a white summer dress with a full skirt, and she stood over his couch like Florence Nightingale and bent down to inspect Ansel's egg. 'What's that?' she asked.

'Fried egg, of course.'

'It looks kind of funny.'

'It's James's,' said Ansel.

'Ah.' And she turned around, so that now she could see James where he sat eating in the kitchen. 'Hey, James,' she said.

'Hello, Maisie.'

‘Taken any pictures lately?'

'No.'

That seemed to end the conversation; she turned back to Ansel. 'You mind if I sit on your couch?' she asked.

"I'd prefer the armchair.'

'Well.'

She settled on the very edge of the armchair, spreading her skirt around her. When she bent her head toward Ansel, with the tow-white hair falling over her face, the morning sun seemed to pass right through her hair. She looked like glass. James studied her through the doorway as he munched on a piece of toast, but she didn't look his way again. 'I came to ask you to a picnic,' she told Ansel.