Executioner's Song, The - Norman Mailer [376]
Gary's face took on the expression of his newspaper photos. All jaw. Flared nostrils. "Is it also true," he asked, "that Giauque brought you out here in a Rolls?"
Mikal saw how it looked to Gary. Wealthy liberals who never gave a damn about him in other years, were now gathering their wealth and power to frustrate him. "It's not important," Mikal tried to say.
They fought over Amsterdam and Giauque. "Who do you think they are," asked Gary, "holy men? They're trying to use you."
"Just recognize," said Mikal, "that I can take action without them. I can still go in and get a commutation of your sentence. They wouldn't be doing it, I would."
"Could you really?" asked Gary.
"I believe I could."
Gary paced around. "Look," he said, "I've spent too much time in jail. I don't have anything left in me."
A guard's voice came into the room. "Time's up."
"Come back," said Gary. "Talk to me tomorrow."
Even as Mikal was passing through the door, Gary called out. "Where were you, years ago, when I needed you?"
All the way back to Salt Lake, Mikal heard, "When were you when I needed you?" He had been ready to sign the paper for Giauque, but now he did not know if it was his choice or Gary's. His brother's voice kept saying, "I don't have anything left in me." Mikal wanted to disappear into a place when choices did not exist. After a bad night, he decided to write a letter to Gary.
In it, he said that when he was face to face with his older brother's anger, he could never remember what he wanted to tell him. He wrote to Gary that he had always been frightened of him. Only in their last two meetings had he come to realize that, in fact, he loved him. Whatever choice he made would come from love. If Gary chose to live, he hoped they could take down the barriers between them. He ended by speaking of his belief: one's best chance for redemption was found through choosing life over death. In life was when one found redemption, not death.
That afternoon at the prison, a guard read Mikal's letter and delivered it to Gary on the other side of the glass.
Gary looked it over quietly and began to cry. Just a tear or two.
Then he wiped an eye with his finger and smiled. "Well put," he said over the phone. He asked Mikal, "Are you familiar with Nietzsche? He wrote that a time comes when a man should rise to meet the occasion. That's what I'm trying to do, Mikal."
They sat then. Gary nodded, "Look, kid, I was thinking of what I said yesterday. That was unfair. I wasn't around when you were young. So get it straight. I don't hate you. I know you're my brother and I know what that means."
Gary's hand might just as well have been laid on Mikal's heart. Mikal could feel himself being manipulated here, softened there. He obliged himself to say, "What would you do if I tried to stop this?"
"Oh, you could have my sentence commuted," Gary said, "but you wouldn't have to live in prison. Do you know how strong you have to be, year after year, to keep yourself together in this place?" Gary asked.
Mikal would have been ready to concede then. Yet on his first day in Salt Lake, he had met Bill Moyers. He had spent hours with him ever since. Moyers, he felt, had to be one of the wisest and most compassionate men he had ever met, and Moyers had said, "If we are confronted with a choice between life and death, and choose anything short of life, we're choosing short of humanity." Gary might listen to such an idea. It was so clear cut. Gary liked ideas that were logical propositions. Mikal did not really think it would make a difference. Yet before he left, he asked Gary to talk to Bill Moyers. "Not for an interview. Just for a meeting."
"I'll do it," said Gary, "but it's got to be off the record. We can't forget my deal with Larry Schiller."
Chapter 27
CUTTING THE STRING
janvier 13
jeudi
Bon maten mon Soul Mate je Love vous. Oh! Je Love vous!
et avoir besoin de vous tant!
This morn i have only a few minutes to write as my lawyer should be here soon.
i have been having fun with an old french book. It is a