Elephant Man - Christine Sparks [84]
“Can you cure me?”
Treves was taken back. It was the last question he had expected, and now he wondered why it had never occurred to him that John might wonder about this. It was so obvious to himself that the condition was incurable that he had forgotten that John knew nothing of such things.
Mingled with his surprise was a renewed sense of remorse. This is the result, said the little voice inside, of allowing him to forget that he is so unlike other people. He has now forgotten it, and he begins to hope with a cruel hope that will destroy him.
“No, John,” Treves said after a moment. “I can’t. I can care for you, but I can’t cure you.”
Merrick did not seem disturbed or disappointed by this answer. “I thought as much,” he said simply.
He got to his feet and moved to the window. Treves followed him with his eyes and saw how Merrick turned to face him. And then something happened which he was afterward never able to explain.
Merrick was standing gazing in his direction and it seemed to Treves that those features, which had never before been capable of expression, wore one now. It was a calm, knowing look, almost a benign smile that contained in it forgiveness. Treves stared in disbelief, and as he did so Merrick was lit up by a blinding flash of light that seemed to come from the window behind him. Treves blinked against the brilliance of it, unable to comprehend what he was seeing, or even to believe his eyes. When he looked again the moment had passed. Merrick had turned away and was moving toward the bookcase to find a place for the precious new volumes. He seemed unaware that anything unusual had happened.
“John—” Treves was thoroughly confused, but he was interrupted by a knock on the door.
“Come in,” called Merrick turning round. He was back to his old self. There was no light and no expression on those set features. Treves might have begun to believe he had imagined everything, but he knew that he was not a fanciful man.
The arrival was Nora, holding a brown paper parcel tied with string. Merrick said nothing. Since they had talked together about his model cathedral more than a month ago he had seen her very seldom, and never alone.
“Are you looking for me, Nurse?” asked Treves.
“No sir, Mr. Merrick.” Nora seemed nervous but she approached Merrick and looked him in the face. “I have something for you.”
A slight tilt of his head indicated his surprise and she turned quickly to the table and opened up the parcel. It contained several squares of new cardboard, a cutting knife, a paste pot, a few brushes, and some paint.
“I thought these things would be helpful with your cathedral,” she said, smiling at him.
“Oh yes—thank you—thank you—” He began to stumble over his words in his efforts to express his thanks. But it was more than thanks and they both knew it. It was his joy and relief that she had returned in spirit to the moment when she talked to him with interest and without reserve. Treves looked from one to the other, touched by the girl’s gesture and by Merrick’s reaction, but realizing there was something here he did not understand. It was not like Merrick to lose his composure these days. If anything he was growing famous for the elegance of his social address.
Merrick began to examine the materials, touching them almost with reverence. Then he laid them carefully aside and at once began to pull the crude spires from the model he had been working on. He could do them so much better now. Nora gave him a smile of total understanding and departed quickly.
“The cathedral is coming along nicely,” Treves observed.
Merrick answered without looking up. He was absorbed.
“Yes, soon I’ll start the main spire, but I must finish these columns first. How kind of her.”
Treves leaned forward to get a better view of what Merrick was doing and found, as Merrick shifted slightly, that he was looking directly at the back of his head. What he saw there made him freeze with dismay. The growths were larger—significantly larger. They must have been growing all these weeks but so slowly