Уолтер Мосли - Odyssey

“Yes,” James said. “She thought he was going to bully some children out of their allowances.”

“That’s still a crime.”

“Petty crime.”

“You’re going to keep letting her into your home?”

“She has a key. She can come and go as she pleases.”

“Do you want to have sex with her?”

Sovereign thought about the bagpipes then, about the sinewy gyrations of the music, about the brawny legs in a Highland kilt. That brought to mind how he danced with the vertigo that lying down brought on. He masturbated every night just to get to the place that allowed him to rest in his bed.

He didn’t imagine Toni when he was thrashing against the mattress but he did think about her being there with him after the powerful release.

“No,” he said. “No... I... She makes me happy, Dr. Offeran. She calls me Mr. James and laughs at the silliest things. When I’m with her I feel like there’s somebody there. I haven’t felt like that since I used to ferry my grandfather around.”

“But she’s a danger.”

“More to herself than to me. She saved me.”

“But she didn’t turn her boyfriend in to the police.”

“How could she do that? He could kill her at any time, any time at all.”

“Are you in love with her?”

Sovereign hadn’t expected the question. Often he had supposed an array of choices for the next question the doctor might ask. After the first few weeks of therapy he had gotten pretty good at predicting the range of the doctor’s possible inquiries. How do you feel about that? was a standard when a bald statement had been made. What did it look like? was the question when his blindness (either physical or emotional) came up.

He didn’t always know what the doctor would ask or comment upon. Now and again, when Sovereign was frustrated with the claims of his therapist, Offeran would say that it was the same with his father, Sovereign’s father — that Offeran had taken the father figure’s place.

You’re just saying that because you read it in a book , James would tell his doctor.

I’m saying it because it is most probably true .

But the question about love took Sovereign completely off guard. He had loved his grandfather. Maybe his grandfather was the only person he had ever truly loved. And here he was comparing Toni to Eagle. If someone had asked him how he felt about her, if they had left the definition up to him, he would have said that he was guiding the child, showing her what the world could be like. The word love would have never entered into the dialogue.

It struck him that he also loved his siblings. Zenith had contempt for him, but Drum-Eddie was a different case altogether. Eddie was a true thief, a bank robber. Sovereign’s love for Eddie drove him from his temperate San Diego home; it brought him to New York, where, at times, he still thought he caught a glimpse of Eddie and some mink-wearing beauty walking down Park or Sutton Place South.

“Mr. James,” Seth Offeran said.

“Yes.”

“Do you?”

“Love her?”

“Yes.”

“Maybe I do. But I can’t say for sure.”

“Why not?”

“Because that word added onto the girl has no exact echo in my heart.”

After tussling with his mattress Sovereign fell into a fitful sleep. His dreams were more like thoughts rising up unbidden from an overworked mind. There was Toni, who had stalked and then saved him. She confessed her crime. How could he blame her? There was the shadowy figure of Lemuel Johnson, who attacked him and then ran like a coward from a woman’s screams.

He recited the two dozen names of Negro, Puerto Rican, and Native American men and women whom he’d hired in order to secretly take over Techno-Sym. They didn’t know his design and he felt an emptiness where this thought resided. His heart was a cold chamber where love had no counterpart, no place where it could attach. There was a history of love but that was all taken away decades before.

The phone began ringing.

There was Eagle James, who was impotent and still a father to Solar. There was Solar, who was full of commandments and confident in his bloodline. Eagle’s long dialogue on life ended with a pistol shoved up his nose and fired. The doctor said that the bullet exploded against the inside of the old man’s skull. Solar asked Sovereign why he didn’t tell somebody about the gun...

In his sleep Sovereign realized that his father blamed him for Eagle’s death — Sovereign blamed himself.

The phone was still ringing.

A light shone somewhere inside of Sovereign’s mind and he was suddenly aware of the darkness that blindness had rung down on him. He was so good at keeping secrets that his grandfather had died and his own father never knew his bastardy; Sovereign had harmed one and protected the other. The dream thoughts told him that it should have been the other way around.

The phone stopped ringing.

Light was more than sight, he thought. Vision was always partial, unrevealing at the last.

Why couldn’t he dream about sex or Drum-Eddie? Why were these ideas rumbling around his head like bad meat in a starving man’s gut?

The phone started ringing again.

Sovereign stumbled up out of bed and blundered through the rooms to reach out for it, almost desperately.

“Hello?”

“It’s Zenith, Sovereign.”

“What time is it?”

“A little past midnight in New York. Don’t hang up.”

“What do you want, Zenith?”

“I spoke to Thomas about our talk on the phone. He told me that it wasn’t right to say that you were making it up. He said that all I had to do was to think of what I’d say if one of our children had something like that.”

“You mean if you were related to the person suffering the ailment.”

“I know you’re my brother, Sovereign.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Grandpa Eagle told me that he was made impotent by that wound he suffered in World War One.”

“But...”

“But that means he wasn’t our grandfather. Maybe I’m only your half brother. Maybe they found me in a hole somewhere and we’re not related at all.”

“Don’t be crazy, Sovereign.”

“You already think I’m crazy. Why not act like it?”

“I’m calling to apologize.”

“You’re calling because Thomas told you to, Zenith.”

“You used to call me Z.”

“That was a long time ago — when I could see and I still hoped that my sister would love me.”

“Maybe I should call back later.”

“Whatever.”

Sovereign wondered why blindness made him so sensitive to silence. It was like the senses were somehow blended together, making a third, undefined form of perception.

“We haven’t talked for a long time, Sovereign. And maybe I was... I don’t know... maybe I was distant when I was a child. I thought you and Eddie were just little boys, that you didn’t understand things. I treated you like kids, and I didn’t like kids very much. But that’s all. You are still my brother and I do love you.”

Sovereign exhaled and then waited for the breath to come back in. He thought about his stinky sister and playing hide-and-seek with Drum-Eddie, about the ribbon of blood flowing out from Eagle’s nostril and the image of a bullet exploding in his brain; the ribbon of blood was the tie.

Maybe he had been thinking about suicide.

Either fathering a child or dying — that was the choice.

“Sovereign?”

“Yes, Zenith?”

“Do you need me to come out there?”

“No, baby, no. I got it covered.”

“I read up on hysterical blindness. Most cases recover.”

“Yeah, but do they ever get over it?”