Orson Card - Maps in a Mirror - The Short Fiction of Orson Scott Card

Papa Lem’s voice rang through that little village, he was talking so loud, and I noticed there was a bunch of people all around. Not many kids now, all grownups, maybe there to hear Lem, but even more likely they was there to see me. Because it was like the lady in Roanoke said, there wasn’t a one of them was half as sparky as me. I didn’t know if they could all see that, but I could. Compared to normal folks they was all dusty enough, I suppose, but compared to me, or even to my mama and daddy, they was a pretty dim bunch.

“He studied the scriptures to find out what it meant that his enemies all suffered from tumors and bleeding and coughing and rot, and he came upon the verse of Genesis where the Lord said unto Abraham, ‘I will bless them that bless thee, and curse him that curseth thee.’ And he knew in his heart that the Lord had chosen him the way he chose Abraham. And when Isaac gave the blessing of God to Jacob, he said, ‘Let people serve thee, and nations bow down to thee: cursed be every one that curseth thee, and blessed be he that blesseth thee.’ The promises to the patriarchs were fulfilled again in Grandpa Jake, for whoever cursed him was cursed by God.”

When he said those words from the Bible, Papa Lem sounded like the voice of God himself, I’ve got to tell you. I felt exalted, knowing that it was God who gave such power to my family. It was to the whole family, the way Papa Lem told it, because the Lord promised Abraham that his children would be as many as there was stars in the sky, which is a lot more than Abraham knew about seeing how he didn’t have no telescope. And that promise now applied to Grandpa Jake, just like the one that said “in thee shall all families of the earth be blessed.” So Grandpa Jake set to studying the book of Genesis so he could fulfil those promises just like the patriarchs did. He saw how they went to a lot of trouble to make sure they only married kinfolk—you know how Abraham married his brother’s daughter, Sarah, and Isaac married his cousin Rebekah, and Jacob married his cousins Leah and Rachel. So Grandpa Jake left his first wife cause she was unworthy, meaning she probably wasn’t particularly sparky, and he took up with his brother’s daughter and when his brother threatened to kill him if he laid a hand on the girl, Grandpa Jake run off with her and his own brother died of a curse which is just exactly what happened to Sarah’s father in the Bible. I mean Grandpa Jake worked it out just right. And he made sure all his sons married their first cousins, and so all of them had sparkiness twice over, just like breeding pointers with pointers and not mixing them with other breeds, so the strain stays pure.

There was all kinds of other stuff about Lot and his daughters, and if we remained faithful then we would be the meek who inherit the Earth because we were the chosen people and the Lord would strike down everybody who stood in our way, but what it all came down to at the moment was this: You marry whoever the patriarch tells you to marry, and Papa Lem was the patriarch. He had my mama marry my daddy even though they never particularly liked each other, growing up cousins, because he could see that they was both specially chosen, which means to say they was both about the sparkiest there was. And when I was born, they knew it was like a confirmation of Papa Lem’s decision, because the Lord had blessed them with a kid who gave off dust thicker than a dump truck on a dirt road.

One thing he asked me real particular was whether I ever been laid. He says to me, “Have you spilled your seed among the daughters of Ishmael and Esau?”

I knew what spilling seed was, cause we got lectures about that at the Children’s Home. I wasn’t sure who the daughters of Ishmael and Esau was, but since I never had a hot date, I figured I was pretty safe saying no. Still, I did consider a second, because what came to mind was the lady in Roanoke, stoking me up just by wanting me, and I was thinking about how close I’d come to not being a virgin after all. I wondered if the lady from Roanoke was a daughter of Esau.

Papa Lem picked up on my hesitation, and he wouldn’t let it go. “Don’t lie to me boy. I can see a lie.” Well, since I could see a lie, I didn’t doubt but what maybe he could too. But then again, I’ve had plenty of grownups tell me they could spot a lie—but half the time they accused me of lying when I was telling the truth, and the other half they believed me when I was telling whoppers so big it’d take two big men to carry them upstairs. So maybe he could and maybe he couldn’t. I figured I’d tell him just as much truth as I wanted. “I was just embarrassed to tell you I never had a girl,” I says.

“Ah, the deceptions of the world,” he says. “They make promiscuity seem so normal that a boy is ashamed to admit that he is chaste.” Then he got a glint in his eye. “I know the children of Esau have been watching you, wanting to steal your birthright. Isn’t that so?”

“I don’t know who Esau is,” says I.

The folks who was gathered around us started muttering about that.

I says, “I mean, I know who he was in the Bible, he was the brother of Jacob, the one who sold him his birthright for split pea soup.”

“Jacob was the rightful heir, the true eldest son,” says Papa Lem, “and don’t you forget it. Esau is the one who went away from his father, out into the wilderness, rejecting the things of God and embracing the lies and sins of the world. Esau is the one who married a strange woman, who was not of the people! Do you understand me?”

I understood pretty good by then. Somewhere along the line somebody got sick of living under the thumb of Papa Lem, or maybe the patriarch before him, and they split.

“Beware,” says Papa Lem, “because the children of Esau and Ishmael still covet the blessings of Jacob. They want to corrupt the pure seed of Grandpa Jake. They have enough of the blessing of God to know that you’re a remarkable boy, like Joseph who was sold into Egypt, and they will come to you with their whorish plans, the way Potiphar’s wife came to Joseph, trying to persuade you to give them your pure and undefiled seed so that they can have the blessing that their fathers rejected.”

I got to tell you that I didn’t much like having him talk about my seed so much in front of mixed company, but that was nothing compared to what he did next. He waved his hand to a girl standing there in the crowd, and up she came. She wasn’t half bad-looking, in a country sort of way. Her hair was mousy and she wasn’t altogether clean and she stood with a two-bucket slouch, but her face wasn’t bad and she looked to have her teeth. Sweet, but not my type, if you know what I mean.

Papa Lem introduced us. It was his daughter, which I might’ve guessed, and then he says to her, “Wilt thou go with this man?” And she looks at me and says, “I will go.” And then she gave me this big smile, and all of a sudden it was happening again, just like it did with the lady in Roanoke, only twice as much, cause after all the lady in Roanoke wasn’t hardly sparky. I was standing there and all I could think about was how I wanted all her clothes off her and to do with her right there in front of everybody and I didn’t even care that all those people were watching, that’s how strong it was.

And I liked it, I got to tell you. I mean you don’t ignore a feeling like that. But another part of me was standing back and it says to me, “Mick Winger you damn fool, that girl’s as homely as the bathroom sink, and all these people are watching her make an idiot out of you,” and it was that part of me that got mad, because I didn’t like her making me do something, and I didn’t like it happening right out in front of everybody, and I specially didn’t like Papa Lem sitting there looking at his own daughter and me like we was in a dirty magazine.