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MOONLIGHT IN THE ROOM Logan Carroll

An Ekphrasis of Edward Hopper’s Room in New York “Clair de Lune” was Anna’s favorite song. She often found her only felicities within its melody. In primary school, Mrs. Brown asked the class what each of their favorite songs were. To every “Row, Row, Row Your Boat” and “Mary Had a Little Lamb,” Anna whispered, “It should be ‘Clair de Lune.’” When it was finally her turn to answer, the entire class laughed at the “made-up words” in the title. “They are not made-up,” Anna pleaded. “They are French!” The class laughed with greater enthusiasm when told Claude Debussy wrote it. Anna looked to Mrs. Brown, tears piling up on the edge of her eyelids. Mrs. Brown shrugged. “I’m not familiar with that one either.” After that day, and for a time, Anna ignored “Clair de Lune” entirely. She graduated high school in the summer of ‘26 and even completed a year of university. During what would be her final semester, she met and fell in love with a homely man named Jon. Jon told her they were getting married during a walk through the Central Park Zoo. The two were near the peacocks when he popped the statement. It was never discussed. Anna stopped attending university shortly after. Jon wasn’t disgusting nor was he particularly charming. He preferred newspapers to poetry and was more entertained at the office than the cinema. “Would you stop making me sound like one of those soft-hearted Frenchies?” Anna often teased him by saying “Jean” instead of “Jon.” Every morning he skimmed the paper, and every night he brushed his teeth before doing sit-ups. Anna pictured him marching down Wall Street like a soldier and saluting his boss with his feet together. She didn’t like that she imagined him that way, but she chuckled still. In October of ‘28 they tied their knot. The first months of marriage were fine. Anna spent most of the day alone in the apartment tidying up while Jon went to sell stock. The winter was exceptionally cold when Anna’s father died. He had been coughing in his sleep for years and one night it finally killed him. Jon feared that being alone in the apartment all day wasn’t good for Anna. He loved her in the best way he could. “Is there anything I can get you to keep you from staring at these walls while I’m gone? Anything at all?” Anna blinked four or five times before she answered. “I’ve always wanted to play the piano.” Neither of them knew anything about pianos, but a lady on their floor played organ at a church. She circled one in the Sears & Roebuck catalog with a blue pen. The day the piano arrived was one of Anna’s finest. The piano was tall and black, and ruled over all the other furniture in the small apartment. The wood was polished like

Profile for Ivy Leaves Journal of Literature & Art

Ivy Leaves Journal of Literature & Art — Vol 93  

The Ivy Leaves Journal of Literature & Art is an annual student publication at Anderson University in Anderson, SC. The journal has served a...

Ivy Leaves Journal of Literature & Art — Vol 93  

The Ivy Leaves Journal of Literature & Art is an annual student publication at Anderson University in Anderson, SC. The journal has served a...

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