"Richard Wadholm - From Here You Can See The Sunquists" - читать интересную книгу автора (Wadholm Richard)

He realized the old man was beside him. He wondered what he should do. He had heard
of people meeting themselves, of course. One always heard stories. He just couldn't
remember how any of those stories turned out.



When he could stand it no longer, he turned to the old man: "You know what you've
done?" he asked.



The man looked shocked, like a theater patron suddenly addressed from the stage.



"You're not supposed to? "



"You couldn't keep your hands off your own daughter? Damn it."



In truth, he was not very angry. Mr. Sunquist was more overcome with weariness. In his
weariness, he saw his older persona in a cool and distant light, the way one sees one's
parents after while. He wasn't addressing himself anymore. He was addressing a sad old
man who had lost track of things somehow.



He crouched down to take the old man's hand. It was bloated, the skin shiny and taut.
"I'm sorry," he said, "It's just? " He paused. How to put this? "That's our daughter. Do
you understand? There are some things I just can't do. If I do these things, there will be
no limits for me at all." He looked into the cracked old face for some sign he was getting
through.



"Daughter? What do you take me for? That's not our daughter." The old man laughed.
There was a certain malicious strain in the reedy voice. Even now, he wasn't so different.
"We don't have a daughter. We have a son, Jeremy, but I haven't seen him in five years.
You don't know this yet, do you? Sorry. Shouldn't have opened my mouth, I guess."



Mr. Sunquist sighed; of course, this man would know how Mr. Sunquist longed for a
son. He would use that knowledge to win sympathy, emotional leverage. Mr. Sunquist
wondered if this was the man he truly was destined to become. What a pathetic and
self-serving old liar.