Part 51 (1/2)
”Enoch always says he was a slave in Egypt” An interval. Finally I put it to him: ”Would you have spoiled it for Enoch? Wrecked the Amba.s.sadors.h.i.+p?-Told those three newspapers,” I stated.
”Mm, now you're getting subtle. Probing.”
”But would you really? If I hadn't come?”
”Oh you,” he said vaguely. ”What d'you have to do with anything?”
I would not let go. ”The bargain. I know every detail. I really do. Tourist with guidebook.”
I was touched that he did not laugh. He smiled instead, the kind of smile that trembles gradually into being, so that for a long while it seems to beat in doubt of its own self-creation: imagine Buddha in the moment before that arch-moment by which he is usually represented. -Were his teeth clean? It was too dim to tell. ”You have possibilities. Self-comprehension. At your age Allegra was obtuse as a wall. A drop of my Greek in you maybe.”
”But it was a bargain.”
”You think I care if they make him Amba.s.sador to the Court of the Angel Gabriel? If he wants it let him have it.”
”My mother wants it.”
”And he wants her. If he wants her let him have her. The high and mighty Mrs. Vand, Queen of the Universe.”
”You don't like her.”
He said narrowly, ”Keen of you to spot that.”
”I hate sarcasm,” I informed him. ”Why don't you like her?”
”Same reason you don't'
”I like her,” I protested.
”Did you say something before about not being able to distinguish between the real and the unreal? Be humble, girlie.”
”But I do like her,” I said. ”She's an interesting woman.”
”She's a stupid woman. She's obtuse. She wants everything.”
I looked around for logic. There were only the trees, the table, the kings, the white moon. ”Well, you want everything too. You said it yourself.”
”I deny it.”
”You said a man knows when he's free.”
”Being free isn't wanting.”
”Being free is doing anything you want to in the whole world.”
”A line not your own-Polly want a cracker?”
”I said that once before today,” I apologized. ”I said it coming over in the boat. I was telling that boy about my mother.”
”And preparing him perfectly for the hypocrisy of the pulpit. That's your mother's Philosophy, I recognize it. She's an a.s.s.”
”She's a bigger a.s.s,” I flared, ”to go against her philosophy if that's what it is. You've never let her do what she wants to do. Or me. Always intervening. She locked me in a room in Europe because of you. I would be in Europe right now if not for you. I'd be in London and Paris and Copenhagen and Rome.”
”Europe? You wanted that?”
”No,” I said, ashamed.
Musing laughter.
On account of it I emphatically resumed: ”You've always been in the way. A schnorrer with your hand out What gives you the right?”
More laughter. ”You.”
”You just said I had nothing to do with anything.”
”Not with me. But I can't help it about them-if they've always been afraid because of you. You've made them afraid.”
”You've made them afraid. You're the one.”
”You. You're the issue.”
”Don't say issue. You've threatened and threatened-”
”Now and then I tell them I might come up to town. Is that a threat?”
”And badgered them from one end of the earth to the other-”
”The time we met by accident in France? That was just a coincidence. That Dutch girl that used to take care of you-you remember?”
”I remember,” I said.
”I saw you on the beach. Couple of times I saw you. An ordinary little girl. Talking French to another kid. I wouldn't've noticed if she hadn't said who you were.”
”I never saw you. I saw your bicycle. Bells on it”
”Bells! That's right,” he said, impressed.
”I found your book.”
”What book?”
”A little handbook of wild flowers.”
”-What a b.i.t.c.h,” he said reflectively.
”Anneke?”
”Also true. But I meant Allegra.”
This time for some reason I did not contradict. The remnant of the fire sputtered. He took out his flashlight and stood it on its head on the table.