He complains she is writing again. She is not going to work these days when money matters so depress, he fumes. The children are split over her he says. She agrees but keeps writing. She says he has to write, that she has something to say, that she has no choice but to write. He replies she has written enough, that she now makes less sense. He even says her writings now imperil his spirit, that he fears for his safety and he does of hers. She says he is safe.
Yet, she keeps writing. He calls a family meeting to discuss the issue. Only two of their three children show up. The youngest says he is unsure to make it. They say he just does not want to face up to the matter despite beings, as they say his mother’s favourite child. They says that he should bet there to put her case across since he always says she needs help. She says she is capable of doing that.
The meeting concludes on nothing different from what all there always say, that she is just being nasty to her husband. He tells them she has something against him, that she is simply being vindictive. The children agree. They say that her writings support their father’s claim. She says they do not understand, and that she is sorry that they do not.
They urge her to stop writing and wrangling. She says she cannot, that she has to write and fight. She tells them peace eludes some people for reasons many deride if at all comprehended, and often do not figure for reasons they cannot. She says they need to listen to know, which would make it penetrate others to change for all to gain. But instantly she seems to provoke the reaction characteristic, she claims of just what she says troubles her about others, how they could claim to love but not listen, only to moan later in praise of love.
She says now she gets the blame for something, responsibility for which all should claim, missing out the whole as they do imbibing only its parts. They tell her she is vague and they do not want to hear all she says. She says they fail because they lack the will to gain, much the same way that they seem to now leave her to her fate.
They appear flustered and they say she makes it even worse leaving them so. They tell her that they would ignore her petulance that starts it all, if she would stop writing and make peace at home. They want her to promise but she says they need to not her as peace travels both ways. She argues what they do tells what permeates, what she says she means penetration would change.
Her husband says there she goes again, throwing words at all that only make sense to her. She says they need to let her explain, which is why she says she needs to write again. They retire for a while. Supper promises to be worse she says just as they sit together again. He asks why and she says she has more to say, that she has been writing again. The silence that ensues does not seem to help to sway her as she launches her case keener than ever they say.
Then the phone rings. It is her son, she says. Her husband takes the phone from her. It is clear that he is upset with his son for not showing up, but also for suggesting as it seems that everyone else has missed the message in the writings. He drops the phone abruptly. She is evidently irate. The rest join in. Someone hollers. They stop and look around. She says that he is with her. They look at her in seeming wonder, and at him.
She is looking upwards. He says she is not talking about him. The children say they know that. She says it again. The others look round again, apparently in search of this strange voice, and who she talks about. He says there is no one there to see, that she always does that, as if she is temporarily confused. The children say she does not seem confused, that may be someone is really there that she alone sees.
He sits and everyone else does. She remains standing. Then she sits and starts to scribble something on the napkin with the fork handle doused in ketchup. No one says a word. Then she shows them what she writes, what she says again the same that suggests the voice is there with her, only this time she adds, to take her away.
Her older daughter starts to sob. He consoles her. His wife fumes at him and calls him names. She demands he leaves her daughter alone. He backs off. Everyone is quiet. They leave the table after a while. She sits next to her older daughter who still clearly is distressed. She tells her she is not going anywhere just yet and that she has much more to say.
She says she does not want her mother to die, or her father killed. He tells her not to read what her mother writes, which he says only glorifies violence and death. His daughter says she is weary and leaves, still sobbing, after her sister moments earlier. She sits at the table nearby and starts to write. Someone hollers again. The children emerge from their rooms. She says she is fine, even before they ask and that he is back but that is okay.
She says they should listen to their brother and help if they could. He says she has all the help she needs. She reminds them that she always says her son is right, that he understands her better than all else. She says it is almost too late now. He says it is sad that her husband seems to want her no more. He says she is just out to destroy him and the family saying that. She says she only wants to tell all to listen when others cry.
She says she knows he will soon be here. They ask who she talks about. She responds that they will find out. She smiles and says no more. Then she hollers again. He says now they believe what he says. She says she has no control over how she sounds. The smudge of relief on their faces contrasts the terror etched on them just moments later as she slumps embracing her son who apparently walks in just in time.
He later shows his father the evidence of the growth her brain near where the doctor says explains the excessive writing and aggressive behaviour. His sisters listen, silent, perhaps contemplating their mother’s message, and wondering if listening to it might have made any difference.
