"Ian R. MacLeod - Papa" - читать интересную книгу автора (Macleod Ian R)

he puts on especially for me. In theory, BillтАЩs like AntonioтАФworking simply because he loves his
jobтАФbut I find that hard to believe. Everything about Bill speaks of duty rather than pleasure. I see the
evening towers of a great city through a window beyond his shoulder. The lights of homeward-bound
flyers drifting like sparks in a bonfire-pink sky. But which city? BillтАЩs always moving, chasing business.
My console finds him anyway, but it isnтАЩt programmed to tell you where unless you specifically ask. And
I donтАЩt know how.
тАЬHi, Dad.тАЭ
Two or three beats. Somewhere, nowhere, space dissolves, instantaneously relaying this silence
between us. BillтАЩs waiting for me to say why IтАЩve called. He knows Papa wouldnтАЩt call unless he had a
reason.
I say, тАЬYou look fine, son.тАЭ
He inclines his head in acknowledgment. His hairтАЩs still mostly a natural red-brownтАФwhich was
HannahтАЩs colorтАФbut I see that heтАЩs started to recede, and go grey. And there are deep creases around
the hollows of his eyes as he stares at me. If I didnтАЩt know any better, IтАЩd almost say that my son was
starting to look old. тАЬYou too, Dad.тАЭ
 тАЬYour kids are here. Saul and Agatha.тАЭ
тАЬI see.тАЭ He blinks, moves swiftly on. тАЬHow are they?тАЭ
тАЬTheyтАЩreтАФтАЭ I want to say, great, wonderful, incredible; all those big stupid puppy dog words.
тАЬтАФtheyтАЩre fine. Asleep at the moment, of course.тАЭ
тАЬWhere have they been?тАЭ
I wish I could just shrug, but IтАЩve never been comfortable using nonverbal gestures over the phone.
тАЬWe havenтАЩt really talked yet, Bill. TheyтАЩre tired. I just thought IтАЩd let you know.тАЭ
Bill purses his long, narrow lips. HeтАЩs about to say something, but then he holds it back. Tired.
HavenтАЩt talked yet. Thought IтАЩd let you know. Oh, the casualness of it all! As though Saul and Agatha
were here with their Papa last month and will probably call in next as well.
тАЬWell, thanks, Dad. You must give them my love.тАЭ
тАЬAny other messages?тАЭ
тАЬTell them IтАЩd be happy if they could give me a call.тАЭ
тАЬSure, IтАЩll do that. HowтАЩs Meg?тАЭ
тАЬSheтАЩs fine.тАЭ
тАЬThe two of you should come down here.тАЭ
тАЬYou could come here, Dad.тАЭ
тАЬWe must arrange something. Anyway, IтАЩm sure youтАЩreтАФтАЭ
тАЬтАФpretty busy, yes. But thanks for ringing, Dad.тАЭ
тАЬTake care, son.тАЭ
тАЬYou too.тАЭ
The screen snows. After a few momentsтАЩ fiddling, I manage to turn it off.
I set about getting a meal for my two sleeping beauties. Salads, cheese, crusty bread, slices of pepper
and carrot, garlicy dips. Everything new and fresh and raw. As I do so, the conversation with Bill drones
on in my head. These last few years, they can go on for hours inside me after weтАЩve spoken. Phrases and
sentences tumbling off into new meaning. Things unsaid. Now, IтАЩm not even sure why I bothered to call
him. ThereтАЩs obviously no reason why he should be worried about Saul and Agatha. Was it just to
bragтАФHey, look, IтАЩve got your kids!тАФor was it in the hope that, ringing out of the blue in what were
apparently office hours in whatever city he was in, IтАЩd really make contact?
Slicing with my old steel knives on the rainbow-wet cutting board, I remember Bill the young man, Bill
the child, Bill the baby. Bill when Hannah and I didnтАЩt even have a name for him two weeks out of the
hospital. As Hannah had grown big in those ancient days of pre-birth uncertainty, weтАЩd planned on Paul
for a boy, Esther for a girl. But when he arrived, when we took him home and bathed him, when we
looked at this tiny creature like some red Indian totem with his bulbous eyes, enormous balls, and
alarmingly erect penis, Paul had seemed entirely wrong. He used to warble when he smelled Hannah