Now You See Me (7 page)

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Authors: Jean Bedford

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For a while he’d tried to explain his position to her. Later he learned to avoid the whole subject. But occasionally, out of nowhere, she would tell him about some new case, some new horror from work, depicted in clinical detail. ‘Do you think that’s banal, Tom?’ she would ask, her eyes narrowed at him. ‘A little bit banal? A lot?’ He learned not to answer, but to put his arm around her and hold her close while she calmed down.

She was the only one of his adult acquaintance he had told everything about his own wretched childhood, trying to alter her deterministic view of things. ‘All right,’ she said, after a surprised and, he thought, sympathetic silence. ‘You seem to have escaped the inherited taint. Some do, I suppose. But most don’t. If it’s been done to them, they’ll end up doing it to others. They can’t help it — it’s all they know of relationship. Jesus,’ she’d twisted away from him in bed and sat up, her head on her knees. He’d stroked the long sweep of her back. ‘I sometimes think we don’t deserve to survive as a race. What other species can’t nurture its young?’

His thoughts had skittered around half-known facts — rats and male cats devouring their babies, but he hadn’t said anything. In a cold, intensely private part of his mind he agreed with her. He thought a plague, or a nuclear disaster, might be necessary to cleanse the planet of human corruption, but he never put it into words. Occasionally he imagined, half seriously, writing a blockbuster, contradicting everything else he’d ever said publicly, a ‘You deserve your doom’ sort of book with raised gold lettering on the cover and a mushroom cloud in the background. He had even begun collecting newspaper articles and keeping them in a folder which he labelled sardonically: ‘Man’s inhumanity to man’. Later, doodling in a frivolous mood, he’d changed it to ‘People’s inhumanity to people’, so as not to be accused of sexism.

Back in his room, putting off ringing the motel, he wondered where he’d put those old folders. Some of that material would be useful in his classes. He’d been fixated on it for a while, drawn in to Carly’s world, having serious doubts about his own philosophical and political stance. It was a long time, he thought now, since he’d been fixated on anything except himself and his paltry personal failures. And secrets. The lies he told to keep his secrets. He lifted the phone and punched in the numbers of the nearest motel, wondering again what Diana’s surprise might be.

 

 

The
y
cam
e
agai
n
las
t
nigh
t,
bu
t
it’
s
to
o
soo
n;
onl
y
a
fe
w
week
s
sinc
e
th
e
las
t
tim
e.I
hav
e
t
o
ignor
e
the
m.
Fortunatel
y
I’v
e
go
t
th
e
sleepin
g
pill
s—
no
t
eve
n
th
e
demon
s
ca
n
penetrat
e
tha
t
com
a,
thoug
h
i
t
leave
s
m
e
grogg
y
i
n
th
e
morning
s.
I
t
mean
s
th
e
spee
d
agai
n
fo
r
a
whil
e,
jus
t
a
judiciou
s
snor
t
befor
e
I
fac
e
th
e
worl
d.
Bu
t
I
don’
t
lik
e
i
t;I
don’
t
completel
y
trus
t
m
y
judgemen
t
thes
e
day
s
eve
n
whe
n
I’
m
straigh
t
.

Yo
u
use
d
t
o
sugges
t
tha
t
th
e
demon
s
wer
e
m
y
parent
s.
Yo
u
sai
d
tha
t
perhap
s
i
t
wa
s
a
rea
l
burie
d
memor
y
strugglin
g
t
o
surfac
e,a
nigh
t
whe
n
I’
d
woke
n
an
d
the
y
wer
e
ther
e,
i
n
th
e
shadow
s
a
t
th
e
edge
s
o
f
m
y
roo
m,
watchin
g
m
e.
Tha
t
I’
d
realise
d
the
y
mean
t
m
e
har
m
an
d
suppresse
d
th
e
knowledg
e.
Somethin
g
tha
t
happene
d
befor
e
I
forme
d
th
e
powe
r
o
f
speec
h
tha
t
I
coul
d
neve
r
properl
y
realis
e
becaus
e
I
couldn’
t
articulat
e
i
t.
Perhap
s
yo
u
wer
e
righ
t.
It’
s
no
t
har
d
t
o
giv
e
the
m
th
e
shap
e
o
f
th
e
demon
s,
hu
t
m
y
impressio
n
i
s
tha
t
ther
e
ar
e
mor
e
tha
n
tw
o
o
f
the
m;I
can’
t
imagin
e
my fathe
r
welcomin
g
other
s
t
o
shar
e
hi
s
hobbie
s.
An
d
m
y
mothe
r
neve
r
indicate
d
wha
t
sh
e
kne
w
t
o
anyon
e
.

The
y
neve
r
invite
d
anyon
e
els
e
t
o
shar
e
anythin
g.
I
t
seem
s
impossibl
e,
bu
t
i
n
m
y
memor
y
I
didn’
t
mee
t
anothe
r
adul
t
unti
l
I
wen
t
t
o
schoo
l.I
hav
e
a
fain
t
memor
y
o
f
a
littl
e
bo
y
i
n
short
s,
dow
n
b
y
th
e
cree
k,
bu
t
I
don’
t
kno
w
wh
o
h
e
coul
d
hav
e
bee
n.
A
s
fa
r
a
s
I
kne
w
ther
e
wer
e
n
o
relative
s,
an
d
w
e
live
d
mile
s
fro
m
th
e
neares
t
neighbour
s
.

I
suppos
e
ther
e
aren’
t
man
y
place
s
lik
e
tha
t
lef
t
no
w,
a
s
isolate
d
a
s
w
e
wer
e.
M
y
fathe
r
worke
d
th
e
far
m
b
y
himsel
f,
wit
h
m
y
mothe
r
an
d
m
e
helpin
g
wher
e
w
e
coul
d,
an
d
ever
y
fe
w
week
s
h
e
woul
d
g
o
of
f
int
o
th
e
townshi
p,
th
e
va
n
loade
d
wit
h
vegetable
s
an
d
frui
t
i
f
i
t
wa
s
th
e
seaso
n,
an
d
sometime
s
h
e
woul
d
com
e
bac
k
wit
h
bag
s
ful
l
o
f
grocerie
s
fro
m
m
y
mother’
s
lis
t.
H
e
kille
d
th
e
mea
t
w
e
at
e
an
d
w
e
gre
w
jus
t
abou
t
everythin
g
els
e.
M
y
mothe
r
bake
d
he
r
ow
n
brea
d
an
d
bottle
d
cherrie
s
an
d
pear
s
an
d
plum
s
fo
r
th
e
winte
r.
Sh
e
neve
r
wen
t
anywher
e
of
f
th
e
propert
y,
t
o
m
y
knowledg
e,
excep
t
o
n
m
y
firs
t
da
y
a
t
schoo
l
whe
n
sh
e
walke
d
m
e
th
e
tw
o
mile
s
t
o
th
e
crossroad
s
wher
e
th
e
bu
s
stoppe
d.
Afte
r
tha
t
I
walke
d
b
y
mysel
f,
fas
t,
m
y
hea
d
dow
n
an
d
m
y
ear
s
ringin
g
wit
h
m
y
father’
s
threat
s
o
f
wha
t
woul
d
happe
n
i
f
I
dawdle
d
an
d
misse
d
th
e
bu
s,
o
r
wa
s
mor
e
tha
n
a
minut
e
lat
e
hom
e.
Sometime
s
I
ra
n
tha
t
tw
o
mile
s
bac
k
i
n
th
e
afternoo
n,
i
f
th
e
bu
s
ha
d
bee
n
delaye
d,
pantin
g
a
s
muc
h
a
t
th
e
though
t
o
f
m
y
fathe
r
waitin
g
wit
h
th
e
stra
p
a
s
wit
h
th
e
exertio
n
.

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