"Sheri S. Tepper - The Family Tree" - читать интересную книгу автора (Tepper Sherri)

line, maybe the people beyond them. It was huge and old with limbs like buttresses. Each fall it turned
flaming red and scattered the whole block with glittering confetti, an autumnal celebration that went on
for weeks while Jared fumed and snarled. He couldn't wait until the last leaves came down so he could
vacuum them up, restoring his place to its usual purity. Once Jared had arranged things to his
satisfaction, he did not tolerate alterations.
Dora hadn't known that, not at first. Under the assumption-quite wrong, as it turned out-that Jared's place
was now "their" place, she had suggested some pansies by the back steps, a lavender plant, maybe, and
some tulip bulbs under the hostas. Even some violets along the edges.
"They make a mess," Jared told her. "Tulip foliage dies and turns an ugly yellow. Pansies aren't hardy.
The bloom stalks on lavender drop their buds. Violets seed themselves." His tone of voice made it clear
that seeding oneself was a perversion.
Still thinking she was allowed a voice in the matter, she had argued, "Hostas have bloom stalks."
"Not for long," he'd crowed. Which was true, of course. The minute one showed, he nipped it off. All
Jared wanted to see was those nice, shiny, evenly spread green leaves. Every week, he used the
carwasher gadget on them, floods of soapy water to get rid of the dust. Even the roses out front were
allowed their rare blooms only for a day or two. First sign of blowsiness, first sign a petal might drop,
off they came. Jared had always been neat, said his mother. No trouble bringing Jared up, not a bit.
Dora sometimes entertained brief visions of the baby Jared sitting in his crib, neatly organizing his
Pampers, folding his blankets, plumping his little pillow. Or the schoolboy Jared, sharpening his pencils
and laying his homework out with a ruler, even with the edge of his desk.
"I wasn't at all like that," Jared laughed, shaking his long, high-domed head in pretend modesty. Varnish-


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 THE FAMILY TREE - Sheri S Tepper


haired Jared, high-gloss Jared. "For heaven's sake, Dora, what an idea!"
"I know." She smiled her meaningless smile, one of several conciliatory expressions she had adopted
during their two years together. "It's just, your mother makes you sound like such aтАжperfect child." She
had been going to say, "unnatural," but had caught herself in time.
"Oh, no," he said comfortably. "I had my share of scrapes. I had friends down the street, the Dionne
boys. We used to get into trouble regularly. I don't think Momma ever knew. At least, I never told her."
And he laughed again, just one of the boys, patting Dora's shoulder. He often patted Dora's shoulder in
an understanding way, though that was all he patted. Lately she caught herself flinching even from that
casual touch.
"Jared did hang around those Dionne boys," Jared's momma sniffed, when queried. "Ragamuffins. No
more civilized than young billy goats! And that slut of a girl. And that mother! No better than she should
be. Well, I soon put an end to that!"
Jared's momma, rigid with rectitude, whose very clothes seemed carved from some durable material, ran
the boardinghouse two blocks down, on the corner facing the avenue. It was a huge, vaguely Queen
Anne hulk that had started as a hotel in the twenties. When Dora had sold the farm after Grandma's
death, she had taken a room in the boardinghouse, meaning it to be only temporary, while she sorted
things out. She'd met Jared, instead, and things never had gotten sorted out.
"Where are they now?" Dora asked Jared's mother. "The Dionnes?"
"Who knows," said Momma, mouth shutting like a trap. "Who cares."
"Where did they live?" Dora asked Jared.
"The Dionnes? Oh, a couple of houses down from here. They weren't here long." He laughed. "We have
a certain standard in this neighborhood, and Vorn Dionne wasn't interested in living up to it."
"Standard?" she asked, doubtfully.