In response, Sophie walked over to the radio and turned it up even louder. The man’s throaty voice surged within the four walls.
I moved my arm all the way up and then all the way back down again, just like Sophie had showed me. Straight, clean lines. No back and forth. No shortcuts. Lloyd and Walt were probably peering through binoculars over at Perry’s, just so they could tell me tomorrow what I was doing wrong. I wouldn’t put it past them.
Sophie sang every word of the song right to the end, and then turned the radio back down.
“I can’t believe you’ve never heard of Johnny Cash,” she said again, picking up her paintbrush. “The man is a legend. Plus, Dad listens to him all the time.”
“I’ve never heard him in my life,” I said.
Sophie stopped painting. “What’re you talk…?” Her voice drifted off. “Wow, I guess that was back in Milford. He used to listen to country music all the time. Constantly, almost. That’s how I got into it. He played Johnny Cash so much I memorized the whole album.” She scratched her head. “Yeah, now that I think about it, I don’t remember him listening to it at all once we moved to Silver Springs. Not even once.”
I kept painting. More before-and-after information that still didn’t add up.
“So what kind of music do you listen to?” Sophie asked.
I shrugged. “Just stuff on the radio.”
“Like what? Pop? Rock? Classic rock? What?”
“I don’t know. All of it, I guess. Whatever’s playing. I don’t really have a genre of music I listen to.”
There was a pause. Then, “Did you just say genre of music?” Sophie had stopped painting and was looking at me from across the room.
“Yeah, so?”
She blinked a few times and then turned back to her wall. “Nothing, I guess. Never mind.”
Now I stopped painting. “No, what is it?”
Sophie shrugged but didn’t turn around. “Sometimes I forget how smart you are.”
“Because I used the word ‘genre’?” I paused. “Don’t you know what that word means?”
Sophie turned around slowly. “Yes, I know what it means. It means a type of something. A specific subset or genus, if you will.”
I was confused. “Well, if you know what it means, then why does my saying it make me the smart one?”
“Because I don’t use that word in everyday conversation,” Sophie said. “You do.”
“Whatever.” I turned back around. “You’re weird.”
“Yeah,” Sophie said. “I am definitely a specific genre of weird.” She laughed. It was the first time I had heard her laugh since I’d arrived. It was a nice sound.
I kept my face to the wall so she didn’t see me smile.
We worked in silence for a while, the only sound the slurp of the rollers against the walls.
“Okay, I have something,” Sophie said quietly about ten minutes later. “About Maggie. You said to just say things when they come, so here it is.”
“Okay.” I could feel my breath catching in the back of my throat. “Go ahead.”
Sophie was still facing her wall, painting with wide, steady strokes. “I don’t know if Dad still does this or not, but back then, he used to go into the office on Saturday mornings.”
“He still does,” I said. “He likes to practice his closing arguments when there’s no one around.”
“Yeah, right,” Sophie said. “Exactly. Okay, so it was a Saturday. Mom wasn’t feeling well or something, and he wanted to let her sleep in. But he had to go into the office. So he bundled Maggie and me up and took us with him.” She turned around finally, gesturing with the paintbrush as she talked. “He got us all set up with paper and pens, and even let me sit at his secretary’s desk so I could play with the phone and pretend I was grown up. I was thrilled. More than thrilled. I just remember being so happy that Dad had given me something that didn’t include Maggie. Something for me. Even if it was just pretend.” She paused, and settled her hand against her hip. “Maggie, though—she was about three at the time—caught on pretty fast that I’d gotten the better end of the deal. She ditched the pen and paper Dad had given her and started bugging me. She was hanging on my legs and whining to get up in the chair and play with the phone.” Sophie shook her head. “I remember being so aggravated. God, she just friggin’ annoyed the hell out of me. Always whining and needing and crying and begging.” She paused. “Fuck.”