Earthly Possessions - Anne Tyler [60]
I stared at him.
“Isn’t it true? You don’t know a thought in his head, never asked. If you had, none of this would come as any surprise to you. Saul hates Alberta worse than any of us.”
“But … no, that’s only because of …”
I didn’t want to come right out and say it.
“Because of Grandpa?” Amos asked. “Face it: single events don’t cause that kind of effect. It took Saul years and years to get as bitter as he is. He’s come away from her in shreds; all of us have. He and the others just sit here in Clarion circling her grave and picking at her bones, trying to sort it through, but not me. I gave up. I don’t remember. I’ve forgotten.”
And he did, in fact, smile at me with the clear, blank eyes of a man without a past. I could tell he had truly forgotten. He had twisted every bit of it, muddled his facts hopelessly. There was no point in trying to set him straight.
I took him with us to church. He sat beside me, dressed in a borrowed suit, scrubbed and subdued. But even here, he seemed to be asking his questions. The moment Saul announced his text—Matthew 12:30, “He that is not with me is against me”—Amos shifted his feet, as if about to lean forward and shoot up a hand and shout, “Objection!” But he didn’t, of course. It was all in my mind. He sat there as quiet as anyone, with his fingers laced. I don’t know how he managed to annoy me so.
That night I dreamed that Saul and I had found ourselves a bedroom of a watery green color, like an aquarium. We were making love under flickering shadows, and for once there was no tiny knock on our door, no sad little voice: “I’m lonesome,” no church members phoning with deaths and diseases. Saul looked down at my face with a peculiarly focused, thoughtful look, as if he had some plan in mind for me. I decided the new bedroom was a wonderful idea. Then Linus stretched out alongside me and covered me with soft, bearded kisses, and Julian arrived in his gambling clothes which he slowly took off, one by one, smiling at me all the while. I was circled by love, protected on every side. The only Emory who wasn’t there was Amos, and he was who they were protecting me from.
13
The sign said: PERTH MANOR MOTEL. $8 NITELY. ANTIQUES. ATTIC TREASURES. NOTARY PUBLIC. PUREBRED DALMATIONS. We paused on the sidewalk to read it. Twilight had slipped in more suddenly than usual, it seemed to me. We’d been taken by surprise, had our eyes clapped over by some cool-handed stranger coming up behind us. But this sign was written in movable white letters such as you see in cafeterias where the menu often changes, and we could easily make it out. Behind it was a small plain building, mostly porch, with OFFICE glowing on one pillar. Further back we saw a string of cottages no bigger then henhouses, the faded color of something chalked up and then rubbed away.
“Now first,” said Jake, “we check that Oliver’s mom is not around.”
“What for?” Mindy asked.
“Oliver’s mom don’t think too highly of me.”
“Then why are we coming here, Jake?”
“Well, I have some hopes of Oliver,” he said.
My loafers gritted on the sidewalk; so did Mindy’s sandals. Jake gave us an exasperated look and motioned for us to stop. He went on up the walk alone in his sneakers. We stayed where we were, eerily still in the gathering dusk, Mindy like a weightless, glowing balloon. I was either tired or hungry (too numb to know which) and had reached that state where nothing seems real. Mindy’s pale hand pressed to her backache could have been my own. I held my breath along with Jake when he crept up the steps to peer through the screen.
“He is going to get himself caught,” Mindy said.
Jake swatted an arm backwards in her direction, warning her to be still.
“Sometimes he just tempts people to catch him. Watch,”