iancaldwell&dustinthomason.theruleoffour-第48章

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　By　now　the　second　message　has　begun。
　Tom；　it's　Katie。　Just　wanted　to　let　you　know　I'm　going　to　the　club　to　help　set　up　as　soon　as　I'm　done　here　in　the　darkroom。　I　think　you　said　you　were　ing　with　Gil。　A　pause。　So　I　guess　we'll　talk　tonight。
　There's　a　hesitation　before　she　hangs　up；　as　if　she's　unsure　she　put　the　right　emphasis　on　those　last　words；　the　reminder　of　unfinished　business。
　〃What's　going　on？〃　Paul　calls　from　the　bedroom。
　〃I　have　to　get　ready；〃　I　say　quietly；　sensing　the　turn　things　are　taking。
　Paul　es　out　of　the　room。　〃For　what？〃
　〃The　ball。〃
　He　doesn't　understand。　I　never　told　him　what　Katie　and　I　talked　about　in　the　darkroom。　What　I've　seen　today；　everything　he's　told　me；　has　turned　the　world　on　its　ear。　But　in　the　silence　that　follows；　I　find　myself　standing　where　I've　stood　before。　The　ancient　mistress；　forsworn；　has　returned　to　tempt　me。　There　is　a　cycle　here　which；　until　this　moment；　I've　been　too　engrossed　to　break。　Colonna's　book　flatters　me　with　visions　of　perfection；　an　unreality　I　can　inhabit　for　the　tiny　price　of　my　mad　devotion；　my　withdrawal　from　the　world。　Francesco；　having　invented　this　strange　bargain；　also　invented　its　name：　Hypnerotomachia；　the　struggle　for　love　in　a　dream。　If　ever　there　were　a　time　to　stay　grounded；　to　resist　that　struggle　and　its　dream…if　ever　there　were　a　time　to　remember　a　love　that　has　devoted　itself　madly　to　me；　to　remember　the　promise　I　made　to　Katie…that　time　is　now。
　〃What's　wrong？〃　Paul　asks。
　I　don't　know　how　to　tell　him。　I'm　not　even　sure　what　to　tell　him。
　〃Here；〃　I　say；　extending　my　arm。
　But　he　doesn't　move。
　〃Take　the　map。〃
　〃Why？〃　At　first　he　only　looks　puzzled；　still　too　excited　to　follow。
　〃I　can't　do　it；　Paul。　I'm　sorry。〃
　His　smile　fades。　〃What　do　you　mean？〃
　〃I　can't　work　on　this　anymore。〃　I　place　the　map　in　his　hand。　〃It's　yours。〃
　〃It's　ours；〃　he　says；　wondering　what's　e　over　me。
　But　it　isn't。　It　doesn't　belong　to　us；　from　the　beginning；　we　have　belonged　to　the　book。
　〃I'm　sorry。　I　can't　do　it。〃
　Not　here；　not　in　Chicago；　not　in　Rome。
　〃You　did　it；〃　he　says。　〃It's　done。　All　we　need　is　the　blueprint　for　the　lock。〃
　The　certainty　of　it；　though；　is　already　between　us。　A　look　is　crawling　into　his　eyes；　a　drowning　look；　as　if　the　force　that　once　buoyed　him　up　has　suddenly　let　him　down；　and　all　the　world　is　topsy…turvy。　We　have　spent　so　much　time　together　that　I　can　see　it　without　his　even　having　to　say　a　word：　the　freedom　I　feel；　my　emancipation　from　a　chain　of　events　that　began　before　I　was　born；　is　mirrored　in　reverse　with　him。
　〃It's　not　either/or；〃　he　says；　gathering　himself　up。　〃You　could　have　both　if　you　wanted　to。〃
　〃I　don't　think　so。〃
　〃Your　father　did。〃
　But　he　knows　my　father　didn't。
　〃You　don't　need　my　help；〃　I　tell　him。　〃You've　got　what　you　want。〃
　But　I　know　he　doesn't。
　A　strange　silence　follows；　each　of　us　sensing　that　the　other　is　right；　but　that　neither　of　us　is　wrong。　The　math　of　morality　falters。　He　looks　as　if　he　wants　to　plead　with　me；　to　make　his　case　one　last　time；　but　it's　hopeless　and　he　knows　it。
　Instead；　Paul　quietly　repeats　a　joke　I've　heard　a　thousand　times　from　Gil。　He's　got　no　other　words　for　what　he's　feeling。
　〃The　last　man　on　earth　walks　into　a　bar；〃　he　murmurs。　〃What　does　he　say？〃
　Paul　turns　his　head　toward　the　window；　but　doesn't　offer　the　punch　line。　We　both　know　what　the　last　man　on　earth　says。　He　looks　into　his　beer；　lonely　and　besotted；　and　says；　〃Drink；　I'd　like　another　bartender。〃
　〃I'm　sorry；〃　I　tell　him。
　Paul　is　somewhere　else　now；　though。　〃I　need　to　find　Richard；〃　he　mumbles。
　〃Paul？〃
　He　turns。　〃What　do　you　want　me　to　say？〃
　〃What　do　you　want　from　Curry？〃
　〃Remember　what　I　asked　you　on　the　way　to　Firestone？〃　he　says。　〃What　would've　happened　if　I'd　never　picked　up　your　dad's　book？　Remember　what　you　answered？〃
　〃I　said　we　never　would　have　met。〃
　A　thousand　delicate　accidents　have　piled　up　just　so　that　he　and　I　would　meet…so　that　we　could　be　here；　now。　Destiny；　from　the　shambles　of　five　hundred　years；　has　fashioned　a　castle　in　the　air　so　that　two　college　boys　could　be　kings。　This；　he　means；　is　how　I　treat　it。
　〃When　you　see　Gil；〃　he　says；　picking　up　his　coat　from　the　floor；　〃tell　him　he　can　have　the　President's　Room　back。　I　don't　need　it　anymore。〃
　Thinking　of　his　car；　broken　down　on　a　side　street　by　the　Institute；　I　imagine　him　walking　through　the　snow　to　find　Curry。
　〃It's　not　safe　to　go　alone　。　。　。〃　I　begin。
　But　alone　is　how　he's　always　gone。　He's　already　walking　out　the　door。
　　
　I　might　have　followed　him；　had　the　hospital　not　called　a　minute　later　to　relay　a　message　from　Charlie。
　〃He's　up　and　talking；〃　the　nurse　says。　〃And　he's　asking　for　you。〃
　I'm　already　putting　on　my　hat　and　gloves。
　Halfway　to　the　medical　center　it　stops　snowing。　For　a　few　blocks　there's　even　a　sun　visible　above　the　horizon。　Clouds　everywhere　take　the　shape　of　table　settings…tureens　and　soup　bowls　and　pitchers；　a　fork　rolling　by　with　a　spoon…and　I　realize　how　hungry　I　am。　I　hope　Charlie's　doing　as　well　as　the　nurse　said。　I　hope　they're　feeding　him。
　I　arrive　to　find　the　door　to　the　room　blocked　by　the　one　person　who　is　more　physically　intimidating　than　Charlie：　his　mother。　Mrs。　Freeman　is　explaining　to　a　doctor　that　after　taking　the　first　train　from　Philadelphia　to　be　here；　and　listening　to　a　man　from　the　dean's　office　say　that　Charlie　is　dangerously　close　to　suspension；　and　being　a　nurse　practitioner　for　seventeen　years　herself　before　being　a　science　teacher；　she　is　in　no　mood　to　have　a　doctor　condescend　to　her　about　what's　wrong　with　her　son。　From　the　color　of　his　scrubs　I　recognize　him　as　the　man　who　told　Paul　and　me　that　Charlie　was　in　stable　condition。　He　of　the　hospital　words　and　canned　smiles。　He　doesn't　seem　to　realize　that　the　smile　hasn't　been　invented　yet　that　will　move　this　mountain。
　Just　as　I　turn　in　toward　Charlie's　room；　Mrs。　Freeman　spots　me。
　〃Thomas；〃　she　says；　shifting　her　weight。
　There　is　always　a　sense　around　Mrs。　Freeman　that　you　are　watching　a　geological　effect；　that　if　you　aren't　careful；　you'll　be　crushed。　She　knows　that　my　mother　is　raising　me　alone；　so　she　takes　it　upon　herself　to　contribute。
　〃Thomas！〃　she　repeats；　the　only　person　who　calls　me　that　anymore。　〃e　over　here。〃
　I　inch　closer。
　〃What　did　you　get　him　into？〃　she　says。
　〃He　was　trying　to…〃
　She　steps　forward；　trapping　me　in　a　shadow。　〃I　warned　you　about　this　sort　of　thing。　Didn't　I？　After　that　other　business　on　the　roof　of　that　building？〃
　The　clapper。　〃Mrs。　Freeman；　that　was　his　idea…〃
　〃Oh；　no。　Not　that　again。　My　Charlie's　no　genius；　Thomas。　He's　got　to　be　led　into　temptation。〃
　Mothers。　You'd　think　Charlie　couldn't　find　the　wrong　side　of　the　tracks　if　you　pushed　him　off　the　train。　Mrs。　Freeman　looks　at　the　three　of　us　and　sees　bad　pany。　Counting　my　one　parent；　Paul's　none；　and　Gil's　revolving　door　of　steprelations；　we　don't　have　as　many　positive　role　models　among　us　as　Charlie　has　under　one　roof。　And　for　some　reason；　I'm　the　one　with　a　pitchfork　and　a　tail。　If　only　she　knew　the　truth；　I　think。　Moses　had　horns　too。
　〃Leave　him　alone；〃　es　a　wheezy　voice　from　inside。
　Like　the　world　on　its　axis；　Mrs。　Freeman　turns。
　〃Tom　tried　to　get　me　out　of　there；〃　Charlie　says；　weaker　now。
　A　blip　of　silence　follows。　Mrs。　Freeman　looks　at　me　as　if　to　say；　Don't　you　smile；　there's　nothing　smart　about　getting　my　boy　out　of　a　predicament　you　got　him　into。　But　when　Charlie　starts　to　speak　again；　she　tells　me　to　go　in　and　talk　to　her　son　before　he　wears　himself　out　carrying　on　like　that　across　the　room。　She　has　some　business　with　the　doctor。
　〃And；　Thomas；〃　she　says；　before　I　can　get　past　her；　〃don't　go　putting　any　ideas　into　that　boy's　head。〃
　I　nod。　Mrs。　Freeman　is　the　only　teacher　I've　ever　known　who　makes　ideas　sound　like　a　four…letter　word。
　Charlie　is　propped　up　in　a　hospital　cot　with　a　short　metal　railing　on　each　side；　the　kind　that　isn't　high　enough　to　keep　a　big　guy　from　rolling　off　the　bed　on　a　bad　night；　but　is　exactly　the　right　height　to　let　an　orderly　slip　a　broomstick　between　the　railings　and　keep　you　pinned　to　the　bed　forever；　a　permanent　convalescent。　I've　had　more　hospital　nightmares　than　Scheherazade　had　stories；　and　even　time　hasn't　sponged　them　all　from　my　memory。
　〃Visiting　hours　end　in　ten　minutes；〃　the　nurse　says　without　looking　at　her　watch。　A　kidney…shaped　tray　is　clamped　in　one　of　her　hands；　a　duster　in　the　other。
　Charlie　watches　her　shuffle　out。　In　a　slow；　hoarse　voice　he　says；　〃I　think　she　likes　you。〃
　From　the　neck　up　he　almost　looks　fine。　There's　a　lick　of　pink　skin　jumping　out　over　his　collarbone；　otherwise　he　just　appears　tired。　It's　his　chest　where　the　damage　was　done。　He's　wrapped　in　gauze　down　to　the　point　where　his　waist　is　tucked　lightly　into　the　bed；　and　in　places　a　sweaty　pus　has　seeped　to　the　surface。
　〃You　can　stick　around　to　help　them　change　me；〃　Charlie　says；　drawing　my　attention　back　north。
　His　eyes　seem　jaundiced。　There's　a　wetness　around　his　nose　he　would　probably　wipe　if　he　could。
　〃How　do　you　feel？〃　I　ask。
　〃How　do　I　look？〃
　〃Pretty　good；　considering。〃
　He　manages　to　smile。　When　he　tries　to　peer　down　at　himself；　though；　I　realize　he　has　no　idea　how　he　looks。　He　is　just　together　enough　to　know　he　shouldn't　trust　his　senses。
　〃Anyone　else　e　to　see　you？〃　I　ask。
　It　takes　him　awhile　to　answer。　〃Not　Gil；　if　that's　what　you　mean。〃
　〃I　mean　anyone。〃
　〃Maybe　you　missed　my　mom　out　there。〃　Charlie　smiles；　and　repeats　himself　without　noticing。　〃She's　easy　to　miss。〃
　I　look　out　the　doorway　again。　Mrs。　Freeman　is　still　talking　to　the　doctor。
　〃Don't　worry；〃　Charlie　says；　misunderstanding。　〃He'll　e。〃
　But　by　now　the　nurse　has　called　everyone　who　might　care　that　Charlie　is　conscious　again。　If　Gil　isn't　here　already；　he's　not　ing。
　〃Hey；〃　Charlie　says；　changing　the　subject。　〃You　okay　with　what　happened　back　there？〃
　〃When？〃
　〃You　know。　What　Taft　said。〃
　I　try　to　call　up　the　words。　We　were　at　the　Institute　hours　ago。　It's　probably　the　last　thing　he　remembers。
　〃About　your　dad。〃　Charlie　tries　to　reposition　himself　and　winces。
　I　stare　at　the　railing；　suddenly　pinned。　Mrs。　Freeman　has　bullied　the　doctor　enough　that　he　finally　leads　her　into　a　private　room　to　confer。　The　two　of　them　disappear　behind　a　distant　door；　and　now　the　hallway　is　empty。
　〃Look；〃　Charlie　says　faintly；　〃don't　let　someone　like　that　mess　with　your　head。〃
　This　is　what　Charlie　does　on　death's　door。　He　thinks　about　my　problems。
　〃I'm　glad　you're　okay；〃　I　tell　him。
　I　know　he's　about　to　say　something　smart；　when　he　feels　the　pressure　I'm　putting　on　his　hand　and　keeps　it　simple。
　〃Me　too。〃
　Charlie　smiles　at　me　again；　then　laughs。　〃I'll　be　damned；〃　he　says；　and　shakes　his　head。　His　eyes　are　focused　on　something　beyond　me。　〃I'll　be　damned；〃　he　says　again。
　He's　fading；　I　think。　But　when　I　turn　around；　Gil　is　standing　in　the　doorway；　a　bouquet　of　flowers　in　hand。
　〃I　stole　these　from　the　ball　arrangements；〃　he　says　hesitantly；　as　if　he's　not　sure　he's　wele　here。　〃You　better　like　them。〃
　〃No　wine？〃　Charlie's　voice　is　faint。
　Gil　gives　an　awkward　smile。　〃Only　the　cheap　stuff　for　you。〃　He　walks　forward　and　extends　a　hand　to　Charlie。
　〃The　nurse　told　me　we've　got　two　minutes；〃　Gil　offers。　〃Ho