The Piano
Chapter 3
Rory wakes early the next morning to oversee the movers and what precious little of her things were not moved out the night before, only to discover that she doesn’t need to, because her father has already arrived and begun doing what he does best: bossing other people around.
She takes a moment to wonder how he even got into her apartment; she doesn’t remember giving him a key. She doesn’t put picking the lock past him, but he likes to seem respectable. The only reasonable thing to do is, of course, what Rory does: ask her father just how he got into her apartment.
“With John’s key, of course,” he says, like every ex-husband has a key to his ex-wife’s apartment. “Lovely man, John. Why did you ever divorce him?”
“You know why, Papa.”
He leans closer to her to whisper to her, continuing to watch the movers. He used to do the same thing with the employees in his store, when Rory was a child and he had a store.
“In every marriage, my dear, things happen. Fights, finances, indiscretions, God, of all things.” He pauses to shake his head, like he always does when he thinks about her mother. “Some people will fight for their marriage, and some people will quit. I don’t know all of what happened, but I always thought that I had raised a fighter.”
As is typical of Mr. Beauchene, he doesn’t give her any time to reply. When he notices one of the movers struggling with Rory’s little piano, he makes a beeline towards a new target for his incessant fussing and bossing. When Rory was a little girl and he had a store, he fussed and bossed his way through that room, too, but it’s been a long time since he had a store.
It ends up taking four hours to clear everything out of the apartment and get Hazel awake and ready to go anywhere. As loathe as Rory is to give her father any credit for sticking his nose in where he wasn’t invited like he always does, it probably would have taken her twice as long to get it all done on her own.
“I don’t want to go back to the Inside,” Hazel complains as Rory combs and braids her hair. “It’s too big. And it smells odd.”
“Oh, hush you. Everyone wants to go to the Inside. And it smells fine.”
“Says you. I still think it smells odd.”
Rory laughs and pauses her combing and braiding to kiss the top of Hazel’s head. Zelly swats at her mother and protests about being a grownup now, and what would her friends think if they had seen that?
“I’m sure that your friends’ mothers kiss their heads, too, Zel.”
“They don’t; my friends said so.”
“I somehow doubt that.”
Hazel is pouty for much of the rest of the morning, as they check the apartment once more to ensure that they haven’t missed anything and then sign all of the release paperwork. She doesn’t let up on her pouting on the railcar on their way to the Inner City’s gates; Rory lets her hand over the passports in an effort to cheer her up, but it doesn’t work. She never really thought that it would, but it was a valiant effort.
It’s probably too early for Hazel to be up, anyway.
The Beauchenes are ushered along to the gates of Fennsworth Manor by a motley assortment of Inner City workers (as motley as the well-kept and fed employees of Lofties ever are) rapidly. Within two hours of getting to the Inside, Rory finds herself having to pause at the manor’s gates to listen to the grinding of gears beneath her and feel the minute tremors that she’s been used to since she was a baby. The whirring fans and gears and wires that form the city’s heart and keep them all aloft always sound the same, even here.
She takes a deep breath and steps through the front door.
She takes a moment to wonder how he even got into her apartment; she doesn’t remember giving him a key. She doesn’t put picking the lock past him, but he likes to seem respectable. The only reasonable thing to do is, of course, what Rory does: ask her father just how he got into her apartment.
“With John’s key, of course,” he says, like every ex-husband has a key to his ex-wife’s apartment. “Lovely man, John. Why did you ever divorce him?”
“You know why, Papa.”
He leans closer to her to whisper to her, continuing to watch the movers. He used to do the same thing with the employees in his store, when Rory was a child and he had a store.
“In every marriage, my dear, things happen. Fights, finances, indiscretions, God, of all things.” He pauses to shake his head, like he always does when he thinks about her mother. “Some people will fight for their marriage, and some people will quit. I don’t know all of what happened, but I always thought that I had raised a fighter.”
As is typical of Mr. Beauchene, he doesn’t give her any time to reply. When he notices one of the movers struggling with Rory’s little piano, he makes a beeline towards a new target for his incessant fussing and bossing. When Rory was a little girl and he had a store, he fussed and bossed his way through that room, too, but it’s been a long time since he had a store.
It ends up taking four hours to clear everything out of the apartment and get Hazel awake and ready to go anywhere. As loathe as Rory is to give her father any credit for sticking his nose in where he wasn’t invited like he always does, it probably would have taken her twice as long to get it all done on her own.
“I don’t want to go back to the Inside,” Hazel complains as Rory combs and braids her hair. “It’s too big. And it smells odd.”
“Oh, hush you. Everyone wants to go to the Inside. And it smells fine.”
“Says you. I still think it smells odd.”
Rory laughs and pauses her combing and braiding to kiss the top of Hazel’s head. Zelly swats at her mother and protests about being a grownup now, and what would her friends think if they had seen that?
“I’m sure that your friends’ mothers kiss their heads, too, Zel.”
“They don’t; my friends said so.”
“I somehow doubt that.”
Hazel is pouty for much of the rest of the morning, as they check the apartment once more to ensure that they haven’t missed anything and then sign all of the release paperwork. She doesn’t let up on her pouting on the railcar on their way to the Inner City’s gates; Rory lets her hand over the passports in an effort to cheer her up, but it doesn’t work. She never really thought that it would, but it was a valiant effort.
It’s probably too early for Hazel to be up, anyway.
The Beauchenes are ushered along to the gates of Fennsworth Manor by a motley assortment of Inner City workers (as motley as the well-kept and fed employees of Lofties ever are) rapidly. Within two hours of getting to the Inside, Rory finds herself having to pause at the manor’s gates to listen to the grinding of gears beneath her and feel the minute tremors that she’s been used to since she was a baby. The whirring fans and gears and wires that form the city’s heart and keep them all aloft always sound the same, even here.
She takes a deep breath and steps through the front door.