CHAPTER 34

  IsetouttolearhingthatcouldbeknownabouttheotherHenryDay.Mylifesstoryanditstellingareboundtohis,andonlybyuandingwhathadhappeohimwouldIknowallthatIhadmissed.Myfriendsagreedtohelpme,forbyournatureooksaagents.BecausetheirskillshadlaindormantsihebotchedgewithOscarLove,thefaeriestookspecialdelightinspyingonHenryDay.Onceuponatime,hewasohem.

  Luchóg,SmaoladChavisorytrackedhimtoanhborhoodonthefarsideoftownwherehecircledroureetsasiflost.Hestoppedandtalkedtotwoadorableyounggirlsplayingwiththeirdolliesintheirfrontyard.Afterwatghimdriveoff,Chavisoryapproachedthegirls,thinkingtheymightbeKiviandBlommainhumanform.ThesistersguessedChavisorywasafaeryrightaway,andsheran,laughingandshrieking,toourhidingplaaofblackberrystalks.Ashorttimelater,ourspiesspottedHenryDaytalkingtoawomanwhoseemedtohaveupsethim.Wheheroldhouse,Henrylookedhaunted,ainhiscarfortheloime,headbenttothesteeringwheel,shouldersheavingashesobbed.

  "Helookedknackered,asifthepedhisspirit,"Smaolachtoldusafterward.

  "Inoticedaswell,"saidLuchóg,"thathehasgedoflate,asifheisguiltyofthepastandworriedofthefuture."

  Iaskedthemiftheythoughttheolderwomanhadbeenmymother,buttheyassuredmeshewassomebodyelses.

  Luchógrolledhimselfasmoke."Hewalkedinoneman,cameoutanother."

  Chavisorypokedatthecampfire."Maybetherearetwoofhim."

  Onionsagreed,"Orhesonlyhalfaman."

  Luchóglitthecigarette,letitdanglefromhislowerlip."Hesapuzzlewithonepiecemissiocklessclock."

  "Wellpickthelockofhisbrain,"Smaolachsaid.

  "Haveyoubeeofindoutmoreabouthispast?"Iaskedthem.

  "Notmuch,"saidLuchóg."Helivedinyourhousewithyourmotherandfather,andyourtwolittlesisters."

  "OurChopinwonlotsofprizesforplayingmusic,"saidChavisory."Theresatinyshinypianooel,oratleasttherewas."Shereachedbehindherbadheldoutthetrophyforustoadmire,itsfacadereflegthefirelight.

  "Ifollowedhimtoschooloneday,"saidSmaolach."Heteacheschildrenhowtoplaymusic,butiftheirperformanceisanyindicatioverygood.Thewindsblowharshandthefiddlersotfiddle."

  Wealllaughed.Iheytoldmemanymorestoriesoftheman,butlargegapsexistediale,andsingularquestionsarose.Wasmymotherlivingstill,orhadshejoinedmyfatheruheearth?Ikhingaboutmysistersandwonderedhowtheyhadgrown.Theycouldbemothersthemselvesbynow,butareforeverbabiesinmyimagination.

  "DidItellyouhesawus?"Luchógasked."Wewereatouroldstompinggroundsbyhishouse,andIamsurethathelohtatChavisoryandme.Hesnotthehandsomestthingintheworld."

  "Tellthetruth,"Chavisoryadded,"hesratherfearsome.Likewhenhelivedwithus."

  "Andold."

  "Andwearingout,"saidSmaolach."Yourebetteroffwithus.Youngalways."

  Thefirecrackledandemberspopped,floatingupinthedarkness.Ipicturedhimsnuginhisbedwithhiswoman,ahoughtremindedmeofSpeck.Itrudgedbayburrtofindfortinthehardground.

  Inmysleep,Iclimbedastaircaseofathousandstepscarvedintothesideofamountain.Thedizzyviewbelowtookmybreathaway,andmyhearthammeredagainstmybones.Onlyblueskiesandafewmorestepslayinfrontofme.Ilaboredonandreachedthetop,aairstinueddowhersideofthemountain,impossiblysteep,evenmhteningthanthe.Paralyzed,Icouldnotgobadcouldnotgoon.Fromtheside,fromnowhere,Speckappeared,joinihesummit.Shehadbeentransformed.Hereyessparkedwithlife;shegrimeasifnotimehadpassed.

  "Shallwerolldownthehilltogether?LikeJadJill?"

  Icouldnotsayaword.IfImoved,blinked,openedmymouth,shewoulddisappearandIwouldfall.

  "Itisntasdifficulterousasitappears."

  Sheedmeinherarmsahing,weweresafeatthebottom.Thedreamscapeshiftswhenshecloseshereyes,andIfalldeepintoawell.Isitaloingforsomethingtohappenabovemyhead.Adooropens,lightfloodsthespace.IlookuptofindHenryDaylookingdowfirstheappearsasmyfather,andthenbeeshimself.Heshoutsatmeandshakeshisfist.Thedoorslamsshut,erasingthelight.Frombehmyfeet,thewellbeginstofillwithwaterflowinginlikeariver.Ikipanidrealizeastronggossamerropebindsmylimbs.Risingtomychest,tomy,thewaterswashoverme,andIamunder.Uoholdmybreathanylonger,Iopenmymouthandfillmylungs.

  Iwokegaspingforbreath.Afewsedspassedbeforethestarscameintoview,thereagbrahelipsofmyburrowaninchortwoabovemyface.Throwingoffthebla,Iroseandsteppedoutofthatspatothesurface.Everyoneelsewasasleepintheirdens.Wherethefirehadbeen,Ifainteglowwasvisiblebehebladling.ThestarlitwoodsweresoquietthatIcouldhearthesteadybreathingofthefewfaeriesleftinthisplace.Thechillyairrobbedmeofmybed-warmth,andafilmperspirationdriedandevaporatedoffmyskin.HowlongIstoodstill,Idonotknow,butIhalfexpectedsomeoomaterializefromthedarkhertotakemeortoembraceme.

  Iwentbacktoworkonmybook,stuckmidsentehepointwhereIgelisabouttoswitchwithlittleOscarLove.Duringmyfirstvisitbehelibrary,Ire-readthepagesinlightofwhatwehaddiscoveredaboutHenryDay,andallthathadbeenrevealedtomethroughtheothermembersaboutmyformerlifeandcircumstaneedlesstosay,myfirststoryreekedoffalseimpressions.Igatheredmypapersandtheerror-riddledmanuscriptandthoughtthroughtheproblem.Inmyinalversion,Ihadassumedthatmyparentslivedstillandthattheyhadspenttheirlivesmissingtheironlyson.Ofthefewterswithmynaturalfather,onlyonecouldpossiblybetrue.And,ofcourse,thefirststoryhadbeenwrittenwithnorealknowledgeofthefraudandimposterwhohadtakenmyplace.

  Westartedwatghimagainandfoundatroubledman.Hecarriedonversationswithhimself,hislipsmouthingaviolentargument.Agesago,hedhadanumberofotherfriendsaswell,butashisstrangenessincreased,theyvanishedfromthestory.Henryspentmostofhistimelockedawayinaroom,readingbooksorplayingaboomingan,scrawlingnotesonlinedpaper.Hiswifelivedinthemargins,wonherhome,everydaydrivingawayaurninghourslater.Onionsthoughtthatatelltaleunhappinessweighedheavilyonthewomansmind,forwhenshewasalone,sheoftenstaredintothedistance,asiftoextratheairtheaoherunutteredquestions.Theboy,Edward,wasidealforthege,aloneanddistancedfromtheriseandfalloflife,caughtupinhisownthoughts,andwanderingthroughhisparentshouseasiflookingforafriend.

  Wakinginthemiddleofafull-moonnight,IoverheardBékaandOnionswhisperingabouttheboy.Cozyintheirden,theyexpectedadegreeofprivacy,buttheirspiracyhummedalongthegroundlikethefarawaysoundofanapproagtrain.

  "Doyouthinkwedbeableto,ourselvesalone?"Onionsasked.

  "Ifwecatchhimattherightmoment.Perhapswheherisdistractedordrowningouteveryknownsoundonthatinfernalan."

  "ButifyougewithEdwardDay,whatwillhappentome?"Onionssaid,nevermoreplaintive.Icoughedtoalertthemtomypresendwalkedovertowheretheyhuddled,feigningsleep,iastwonewbornkits.Theymightbebrazenenoughtotry,andIresolvedtokeepcloserwatdcrayplotsbeforeonemighthatch.

  I,thefaeriesrefusedtospyononewhohadquitthetribe.Thegelingwasleftalone,fotten,andgivenacetoliveouthishumahedangerofbeingexposedbysuchapersonisgreat,foraftertheymakethege,theygrowtoreseimeamongusahatotherhumanswilldiscovertheirdarksecret.Butsus,oncegreat,becamelessimportanttous.Weweredisappearing.Ournumberhaddiminishedfromadozentoameresix.Wedecidedtomakeourownrules.

  Iaskedthemtofindmymotherandsisters,andatChristmastheywerediscoveredatlast.Whiletherestofusdozed,ChavisoryandLuchógstoleawaytotown,whichglowedwithblinkinglightsascarolerssangireets.Asagifttome,theydecidedtoexploremyboyhoodhome,hopingtofindmissingcluesthatmightgivemypastmoremeaning.Theoldhousestoodintheclearing,notassolitaryasithadoncebeen.Nearbyfarmshadbeensoldoffonebyone,andtheskeletonsofnewhousesroseinalldires.Ahandfulofcarsparkedinthedriveledthemtobelievethatacelebrationwastakingplaceatmyformerhouse,sotheycrepttothewindowstoseetheassembledcrowd.HenryDay,hiswife,andtheirsohere.AndMaryandElizabeth.Attheterofthefestivities,agray-hairedwomansatinaneasychairbyasparklingfirtree.HermannerismsremindedLuother,uponwhomhehadspiedmanyyearsago.Heclimbedanearbyoakafromitsoutstretchedlimbstotherooftop,scrambliheey,itsbricksIstillwarmtothetouch.Thefirebelowhadgo,makingiteasierforhimtoeavesdrop.Mymother,hesaid,wassingingtothechildrenintheoldstyle,withoutinstrumentation.HowIwouldhavelovedtohearheragain.

  "Giveusasong,Henry,"shesaidwhentheywerethrough,"likeyouusedtodo."

  "Christmasisabusmansholidayifyouplaythepiano,"hesaid."What’llitbe,Mom?ChristmasinKillarneyorsomeotherblather?"

  "Henry,youshouldntmakefun,"saidohedaughters.

  "AngelsWeHaveHeardonHigh,"saidanunfamiliar,oldermanwhorestedhishandonhershoulder.

  Henryplayedthesong,begananother.WhenLuchóghadheardenough,hejumpedbacktotheoakandclimbeddowntorejoinChavisory.Theystoleolookattheparty,studiedthecharactersandseforme,theurnedhome.Wheoldthestorytheday,Iwasdeeplypleasedtohearaboutmymother,aspuzzlingasthedetailsmightbe.Whowasthisoldman?Whowerealltheseotherchildrehetiscrapofnewsbroughtbackthatpast.Ihidinahollowtree.Shewasangrywithme,andIwouldrunawayandnevereback.Whereareyoursisters?Wherearemybabies?IrememberedthatIhadsatintheVmadebyherlegs,listeningtothestoryofthewanderingsofOisíninTírnan?g.Itisnotfairtohavetomisssomeoneforsomanyyears.

  Butthisisadoublelife.IsatdowntoworkoruestoryofmyworldandtheworldofHenryDay.Thewordsflowedslowly,painfully,sometimesletterbyletter.Wholemsescapedwithoutasiehsaving.IcrumpledandthrewawaysomanypagesthatIwasforeverpoppingupintothelibrarytostealmorepaper,andthepileoftrashintheerthreateoethewholeroom.Inassemblingmytale,Ifoundmyselftiringeasily,earlyintheday,sothatifIcouldstringtogetherfivehundredwords,writinghadtriumphedoveruaintyandprocrastination.

  AttimesIquestionedmyreasonsforwrittenproofofmyowence.WhenIwasaboy,storieswereasrealasanyotherpartoflife.IdhearJackclimbthebeanstalk,andlaterwonderhowtoclimbthetallpoplarsoutsidemywindow.Hanselaelwerebraveheroes,andIshudderedatthethoughtofthewitheroven.Inmydaydreams,Ifoughtdragonsandrescuedthegirltrappediower.WhenIcouldnotsleepforthewilddoingsaravagantdeedsofmyownimagination,Idwakemyfather,whowouldinvariablysay,"Itsonlyastory."Asifsuadeitlessreal.ButIdidnotbelievehimeventhen,forstorieswerewrittendown,andthewordsonthepagewereproofenough.Fixedandpermaihewords,ifanything,madethepeopleandplacesmorerealthantheever-gingworld.MylifewiththefaeriesismorerealtomethanmylifeasHenryDay.AndIwroteitdowntoshowthatwearemorethanamyth,ataleforchildren,anightmareordaydream.Justasweheirstoriestoexist,sodothehumaogiveshapetotheirlives.Iwroteittocreatemeaningformyge,forpehSpeck.Bysayingthisinsteadofthat,Icouldtrolwhatmattered.Andshowthetruththatliesbelowthesurfacelife.

  Ifinallydecidedtomeetthemao-face.IhadseenHenryDayyearsbefore,butInowkhathehadoncebeenagelingwhohadkidnappedmewhenIwasaboyofseven.Wehaduncoveredhim,followedhimeverywhere,andlearheoutlinesofhisdailyroutihefaerieshadbeentohishouse,takenarandomsusichewrote,ahimwithasignoftheirmischief.ButIwaofronthim,ifonlytosaygoodbye,throughhim,tomymotherandsisters.

  Iwasonmywaytothelibrarytofinishmystory.Amansteppedoutofadmarchedthroughthefrontdoorofthebuilding.Helookedoldandtired,wornbycare.Nothinglikeme,orhowIimaginedIwouldbe.Htwalkedwithhisheaddowheground,aslightstooptohisshoulders,asifthesimplestthingsgravelydistractedhim.Hedroppedanarmfulofpapersand,bendingdowntogatherthem,mutteredastreamofcursesIsideredpoungoutofthewoods,buthelookedtiletospookthatnight,soinsteadIsqueezedthroughthecrevicetogoaboutmycraft.

  Hehadbegunfrequentingthelibrarythatsummer,showingupseveraldaysinarow,hummingsnatchesofthesymphonywehadstolenfromhim.Onhotandhumidafternoons,whensensiblepeoplewereswimmingorlyingihtheshadesdrawn,Henrywasoftenreadingaloasun-splashedtable.Icouldsensehispresenceabove,separatedonlybythethinceiling,ahelibraryclosedforthenight,Iclimbedthroughthetrapdoorandiigated.Hehadbeenwinaquietspotinthebacker.UponIdesk,astackofbookslayundisturbed,withslipsofpaperstigoutliketoweentheleaves.Isatwherehehadsatandlookedatthemishmashoftitlesohingfromimpsanddemonstoathickbookon"idiotssavants."Nothingectedthesetitles,buthehadscribbleddiminutiveohimselfonbookmarks:

  Notfairybuthobgoblin.

  Gustav—savant?

  Ruinedmylife.

  FindHenryDay.

  Thephraseswerediscardedpiecestodifferentpuzzles,andIpocketedthenotes.Inthem,thesoundsofhisdismaypeedthefloor.Henrymutteredaboutthemissingbookmarks,aaguiltypleasureathavinghem.Herahelibrarians,buteventuallyhecollectedhimselfaabouthiswork.Iweledthepeace,whichgavemethetimetofinishwritingmybookinthequiethours.SoonIwouldbefreeofHenryDay.Thatevening,Ipackedthesheetsinacardboardbox,plagafewolddrawingsontopofthemanuscript,andthenfoldedSpeckslettercarefullyandtuckedthepagesinmypocket.Afteraquicktriphome,Iplannedournitimetocollectmybelongingsandsaymyfinalgoodbyestothedearoldspamyhaste,Iedtothinkofthetime.ThelasthourofdaylightheldswaywhenIpushedoutintotheopen.sideringtherisk,Ishouldnothavecedit,butIsteppedawayfromthebackstaircaseaowalkhome.

  HenryDaystoodnotadozeahead,lookingdirectlyatmeandthecraeaththelibrary.Likeaeredhare,Ireactedinstinctively,runningstraightathimandthenveeringoffsharplyintothestreet.Hemovednotasiep.Hisdulledreflexesfailedhim.Iranthroughtownwithpletedisregardforanypeople,crossedlawnswithsprinklersspritzingthedrygrass,leaptlinkfeoreinfrontofamovingcarortwo.Ididnotstopuntildeepinthewoods,thencollapsedontheground,panting,laughinguntiltearsfell.Thelookofsurprise,anger,andfearonhisface.HehadnoideawhoIwas.AllIhadtodowasgobacklaterforthebook,andthatwouldbetheendofthestory.松语文学www.16sy.coM免费小说阅读

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