18
SORRY FACE STRIKES AGAIN
In my daydreams there was only one ending. Fighting Sirgiman to the death, blood and guts, and the soundtrack climaxing with heroic chords, Hollywood style. Yet this other music had taught me something about endings and about subtlety. Maybe I didn’t have to fight with Sirgiman in fantasyland any more than I’d had to fight with Todd’s aunt. There were other, more effective means.
And there was something more that I needed to know.
I opened up a scene on the piano and caught Sirgiman in the thick of battle. His wife was giving him a tongue-lashing about being a rubbish husband and a failed father. I hummed myself into the scene.
“You forgot something,” I said. “He’s a lousy teacher, too.”
“Knight!”
His wife didn’t bat an eyelid. “Whoever you are,” she said
