Farewell Summer полностью

And then Grandpa had spoken, saying, "Remember, always, everything moves." Thinking of the butterfly, he was reminded of Quartermain. The trees shook with wind and suddenly he was looking out of Quartermain's face, and he knew how it felt to be inside a haunted house, alone. He went to the birthday table and picked up a plate with the largest piece of cake on it, and began to walk toward Quartermain. There was a starched look in the old man's face, then a searching of the boy's eyes and chin and nose with a

Douglas stopped before the wheelchair.

"Mr. Quartermain," he said.

He pushed the plate out on the warm air into Quartermain's hands.

At first the old man's hands did not move. Then as if wakened, his fingers opened with surprise. Quar-termain regarded the gift with utter bewilderment.

"Thank you," he said, so low no one heard him. He touched a fragment of white frosting to his mouth.

Everyone was very quiet.

"Criminy, Doug!" Bo hissed as he pulled Doug away from the wheelchair. "Why'd you do that? Is it Armistice Day? You gonna let me rip off your epaulettes? Why'd you give that cake to that awful old gink?"

Because, Douglas thought but didn't say, because, well, I could hear him breathe.

I've lost, thought Quartermain. I've lost the game. Check. Mate.

Bleak pushed Quartermain in his wheelchair, like a load of dried apricots and yellow wicker, around the block under the dying afternoon sun. He hated the tears that brimmed in his eyes.

"My God!" he cried. "What happened?"

Bleak said he wasn't sure whether it was a significant loss or a small victory.

"Don't small victory me!" Quartermain shouted.

"All right," said Bleak. "I won't."

"All of a sudden," said Quartermain, "in the boys-“

He stopped, for he could not breathe.

"Face," he continued. "In the boy's face." Quartermain touched his mouth with his hands to pull the words out. He had seen himself peer forth from the boy's eyes, as if from an opened door. "How did I get in there, how?"

Bleak said nothing, but pushed Quartermain on through sun and shadow, quietly.

Quartermain did not touch the hand-wheels of his moving chair. He slumped, staring rigidly beyond the moving trees, the flowing white river of sidewalk.

"What happened?"

"If you don't know," said Bleak, "I won't tell you."

"I thought I'd defeated them. I thought I was mean and smart and clever. But I didn't win."

"No," said Bleak.

"I don't understand. Everything was set up for me

"You did them a favor. You made them put one foot in front of the other."

"Is that what I did? So it's their victory."

"They might not know it, but yes. Every time you take a step, even when you don't want to," said Bleak. "When it hurts, when it means you rub chins with death, or even if it means dying, that's good. Anything that moves ahead, wins. No chess game was ever won by the player who sat for a lifetime thinking over his

Quartermain let himself be pushed another block in silence and then said: "Braling was a fool."

"The metronome? Yes." Bleak shook his head. "He might be alive today if he hadn't scared himself to death. He thought he could stand still or even run backward. He thought he could trick life. Tricked himself right into a fine oration and a quick burial."

They turned a corner.

"Oh, it's hard to let go," said Quartermain. "All my life I've held on to everything I ever touched. Preach to me, Bleak!"

Bleak, obediently, preached: "Learning to let go should be learned before learning to get. Life should be touched, not strangled. You've got to relax, let it happen at times, and at others move forward with it. It's like boats. You keep your motor on so you can steer with the current. And when you hear the sound of the waterfall coming nearer and nearer, tidy up the

boat, put on your best tie and hat, and smoke a cig-_a right up till the moment you go over. That's a triumph. Don't argue with the cataract."

"Take me around the block again."

"Here we go."

The leaf-light flickered on the paper-thin skin of the old men's wrists, the shadows alternating with fading sunlight. They moved in a soft whisper.

"All of a sudden. In that boy's face… He gave me a piece of cake, Bleak."

"I saw him."

"Why, why did he do it? He kept looking at me as if I were someone new. Was that it? Or what? Why did he do it? And there I was, me, staring out of his face. And I knew I'd lost."

"Let's say you didn't win, maybe. But you didn't

"What broke me down all of a sudden? I hated that monster, and then, suddenly, I hated myself. Why?" "Because he wasn't your son." "Ridiculous!"

"Nevertheless. You never got married that I knew…"

"Never!"

"Never had children?"

"Never!"

"And the children never had children."

"Of course not. Impossible!"

"You cut yourself off from life. The boy has reconnected you. He is the grandson you should have had, to keep the juices flowing, life staying alert."

"Hard to believe."