“Did Reggie say where he was goin’?” Nat asked at the dinner table. “Not like him to miss a meal.”
“He didn’t tell me,” Della said.
They were finishing the meal when Reggie walked in, sat down, and ate.
“Mind tellin’ me where you been?” Winnie asked.
“Just out.” He helped himself to more potatoes. “Had to go clear my head.”
Later Della sat on her bed, working on an essay for her English class. From Reggie’s room came the unmistakable sound of a violin playing a low, melancholy tune that carried her back to the holler where she used to hang out when she was twelve. Mama and her real daddy were happy. They had enough food and clothes. Then her father’s illness, and her whole life changed.
The music came faster, whirling through the air like a vast thunderstorm crashing around her, spiraling higher and higher until it ended in a victorious crescendo. Reggie’s telling me that life is gonna be okay for both of us. Strange that he’s never played his violin. I didn’t even know he could until Winnie told me. He sure is good. She started to go knock on his door, but decided against it. Don’t want to be too nosey. She finished her essay and went to bed.
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