What you left out

The first time I heard it, its notes went through me like milk through water,clouding into my bones so I knew the end before it had even begun. I sat and listened as you told me the story of the old man and his three daughters,how he loved them all but only one of them was good – the one who asked for a rose instead of a dress,who talked of salt instead of gold,who stood still and said nothing while her sisters ran up and down flights of words. And as the story drew itself around me,I saw her sitting at a table,dragging her nail across the yolk, rucking its film up into creases until it split and the yellow pumped out into the white: that’s when it all went wrong,the beast threw back his head and roared until the leaves shook on the trees, the meat wouldn’t cure,and the fish started to rot as soon as they left the sea, the kingdom split into a thousand pieces and blew back into the old man’s eyes like sand.And I waited for you to tell me about the mother – how she loved this daughter best of all, stroking her hair when she carried her back to the house at the end of the day.

60