"Thomas M. Disch - On Wings Of Song" - читать интересную книгу автора (Disch Thomas M)

of the world beyond Amesville, which even at age six and then age
seven seemed much diminished from the great city heтАЩd lived in
before.
He knew, vaguely, the reason she had gone away. At least the
reason his father had given to Grandmother Weinreb over the
phone on the day it happened. It was because she wanted to learn
to fly. Flying was wrong, but a lot of people did it anyhow. Not
Abraham Weinreb, though, and not any of the other people in
Amesville either, because out here in Iowa it was against the law
and people were concerned about it as part of the countryтАЩs general
decline.
Wrong, as it surely was, Daniel did like to imagine his mother,
shrunk down to just the size of a grown-up finger, flying across the
wide expanse of snowy fields that he had flown over in the plane,
flying on tiny, golden, whirring wings (back in New York heтАЩd seen
what fairies looked like on tv, though of course that was an artistтАЩs
conception), flying all the way to Iowa just to secretly visit him.
He would be playing, for instance with his Erector set, and
then heтАЩd get an impulse to turn off the fans in all three rooms, and
open the flue of the chimney. He imagined his mother sitting on
the sooty bricks up at the top, waiting for hours for him to let her
in the house, and then at last coming down the opened flue and
fluttering about. She would sit watching him while he played,
proud and at the same time woebegone because there was no way
she could talk to him or even let him know that she existed. Maybe
she might bring her fairy friends to visit tooтАж a little troupe of
them, perched on the bookshelves and the hanging plants, or
clustered like moths about an electric light bulb.
And maybe they were there. Maybe it wasnтАЩt all imagination,
since fairies are invisible. But if they were, then what he was doing
was wrong, since people shouldnтАЩt let fairies into their houses. So
he decided it was just himself, making up the story in his mind.


When he was nine Daniel WeinrebтАЩs mother reappeared. She
had the good sense to telephone first, and since it was a Saturday
when the girl was off and Daniel was handling the switchboard, he
was the first to talk to her.
He answered the phone the way he always did, with, тАЬGood
morning, Amesville Medical Arts Group.тАЭ
An operator said there was a collect call from New York for
Abraham Weinreb.
тАЬIтАЩm sorry,тАЭ Daniel recited, тАЬbut he canтАЩt come to the phone
now. HeтАЩs with a patient. Could I take a message?тАЭ
 The operator conferred with another voice Daniel could
barely make out, a voice like the voice on a record when the
speakers are off and someone else is listening with earphones.
When the operator asked him who he was, somehow he knew
it must be his mother who was phoning. He answered that he was
Abraham WeinrebтАЩs son. Another shorter conference ensued, and