We return, silent, to the house. There is nothing to be said. Francois does have a much lighter step, and neither I nor Carl seem to know what to do. There is nothing left to be said. The irises give way to the tulips and their colours seem more luminescent than before, despite the filtred light. As we arrive at the house, we pause and sit in chairs on the verandah, as though needing time to prepare for the others. We are still quiet, then Francois, who has been staring out at the garden, as Carl and I, says suddenly, "I won't be here for dinner. I think I need to rest."
As he gets up to leave, Carl says, "We understand, Francois. Can I bring you up something to eat. You will be hungry."
"Okay", he says, glancing back.
"You're in the room next to mine, right", say I.
"Why don't you both come up with the food when you're done, and we can carry on the fellowship..."
No comments:
Post a Comment