Norman Rush - Mortals

“In a way you might say you’ve devoted yourself to being against lying, institutional lying but not only that kind, that form of lying, untruth. You hate that.”

Morel said, “Make your point. Stop the overture. End it.”

“Very good.”

Ray decided to skip some absurd introductory piety about how much he respected what Morel was doing. He was not in superb control of himself, his voice. It would show in his voice that he resented that Morel was able to do what he wanted to do because he had the money to allow it, support it. Even if it didn’t show in his voice, there was the danger he would bring it up as a discrete item, just mention it glancingly, mention how nice it was to have inherited the money that would let you be a certain kind of moral paragon, how nice indeed. And he also knew that it wasn’t Morel’s fault that he was rich. That was another thing.

Ray said, “I want to know if you love my wife and also if you’re fucking her.”

Waiting for the answer was too hard. He went on. He said, “Yes, go ahead, here’s your chance. Truth can speak to untruth, in the person of myself, yours untruly.” He needed to stop being antic.

“This isn’t funny,” Morel said.

“No indeed.” Being antic was stupid. It created byways for Morel to duck away into. But Ray was having to struggle with the temptation to be reckless. Because he felt reckless. He felt reckless because of the extremity of the scene he was in.

He shouldn’t crowd Morel, but the man was taking too long. You have to have patience, Ray thought. Demonstrating the patience to wait for the truth to be spoken gave the sign that the truth was already there and that he knew Morel was going to have to yield it.

“Take your time,” Ray said.

Sounds of a disturbance reached them. Morel held his hand up for silence. He wanted them to listen together. Ray held down a surge of grief and irritation. The disturbance had to go away. Morel would use it for a diversion. In Morel’s place, Ray knew he would do the same thing, buy time. I am going to pray to God and Jesus if this doesn’t stop, Ray thought.

And then it did stop. The shouting trailed off. The banging sounds ended.

He let Morel continue waiting.

Morel broke. He said, “I don’t think this is the best time to have this discussion.”

“On the contrary I beg to differ,” Ray answered, stumblingly. He persisted. “In fact I can’t think of a better time and I’ll tell you why. And why is because the hammer of death could come down on us, either one of us, anytime.

“And I’m not saying it will. We have certain things going for us. But nothing is guaranteed. These bastards are high on Mandrax. You smelled the dagga out there. And we have a right, or not a right, precisely, but it would be, what should we call it, it would be morally preferable to go into death in full possession of the truth on this subject matter at least.”

“The subject matter being …”

“Oh quite simply the truth about you and Iris, my wife. Which I already know, in any case.”

Morel was thinking about it. The truth was coming. Ray tried to feel self-congratulatory. He was going to get what he wanted.

“Why are we going through this if you already know?”

He will do anything not to answer, not to have to lie, Ray thought.

“Believe me, I do know. But that doesn’t change anything. Because you owe me the truth. As a man, you owe me the truth. You may as well tell me. Oh, and another consideration. We have to cooperate if we’re going to get out of here and that means I need to trust you. We need to see into each other …”

“This is wrong , God damn you. It is.”

Rail , Liar! Ray thought. That could be an addition to Rex’s little collection of palindromes in Strange News , but of course that would make it a collaboration. Rex had been fascinated with palindromes from an absurdly young age. In all their early life together Ray hadn’t come up with a decent one of his own, none that wasn’t marginal. Rex had … I moan, Maori … I mean, Naomi … and they were in Strange News . Of course now computers would take over the whole process and this would never be an issue between two brothers again. Goodbye, he thought. Madam I’m Adam was something he could say to Iris, not that it qualified for anything in any way.

Ray said, “One other thing you need to consider. We’re not even . You know everything about me, to your satisfaction, which I’m sure you think is fine. So an element of balance comes into it. You know what I mean.”

Morel said, “I don’t have to say anything to you.”

“Of course you don’t. But that would be a basis for a conclusion of some kind, wouldn’t you say?”

Morel said, “You say you already know something. That’s interesting. If there was something there, some secret, why would Iris send me up here after you, exposing me to all this, your suspicions? Would that make sense?”

“Hey, she had no choice, did she, Frank Buck? Do you know who that is? She had no choice, you were it. She has a conscience and so do you and so do I. She needs me to come back alive. And she needs me back in town so we can burn everything down we ever had, us, there, settle everything so you guys can go on sweetly. Oh well. You know, I am not a troglodyte like some people. I can give my blessing to this if I have to, but I can’t give my blessing to a liar for my girl, for her next husband, because as you know she was married to a liar and it wasn’t good, was it? What a mistake she made, not realizing that. Frank Buck went to Africa and brought back lions and tigers for zoos and circuses so delicately and always alive. Frank Buck never hurt Africa …”

“You’re hyperventilating.”

“I am fucking not.”

“You need to stop this.”

“I won’t and I can’t. Why should I?”

“Because it’s too much. I’m hypertensive. I am. I can take a lot. But they have my medication. I need that.” He was taking his own pulse.

“Does Iris know this? About you?”

“No.”

“Well why the fuck not, my man. Here we go. I have perfect blood pressure.”

But slow down, Ray thought. It would be one thing for Morel to come to a bloody end through the stupid actions of their captors and something else for him to end up having a stroke and lying there like a log for the rest of his life, grateful if he could blink once for yes and twice for no.

“Let’s go slower,” Ray said. The man is less than perfect, he thought.

“Slower is better,” Morel said.

Ray nodded. “Fine. I don’t want to give you a stroke. And in any case I consider the question answered already, and I’m not referring to what I know separately about this subject matter. But even leaving that aside, the question is answered by the sheer volume of resistance I’m getting from you.

“I’m sorry for you. You’re condemned by your own what, scruples, ideology about lying. You could have lied outright, fast, in an absolute way, when the question first came out. It wouldn’t have done any good, in the long run. But you didn’t do that. You began circumambulating.” I have him, Ray thought.

“Excuse me,” Morel said. Now what? Ray thought. The man was an eel.

“What?”

“I have to use the bucket.” So there would be another interruption so the man could defecate. It was going to be defecation. If he had just had to urinate he would do what both of them had done, he would have gone over and done it without missing a beat. No one could argue with defecation. And what a prodigy he was. Even in captivity his bowels functioned like a Swiss watch. Defecation demanded silence. Momentum would be lost.