In the Lake of the Woods. Tim O’Brien
Чтение книги онлайн.

Читать онлайн книгу In the Lake of the Woods - Tim O’Brien страница 7

Название: In the Lake of the Woods

Автор: Tim O’Brien

Издательство: HarperCollins

Жанр: Современная зарубежная литература

Серия:

isbn: 9780007381753

isbn:

СКАЧАТЬ target="_blank" rel="nofollow" href="#ulink_b20c6770-119a-572b-921c-ff58993939e1"> Hypothesis

      The purest mystery, of course, but maybe she had a secret lover. Marriages come unraveled. Pressures accumulate. There was precedent in their lives.

      In the kitchen that morning, when her eyes traveled away, maybe Kathy Wade was imagining a hotel room in Minneapolis, or in Seattle or Milwaukee, a large clean room with air-conditioning and fresh flowers and no politics and no defeat. Maybe she saw someone waiting for her. Or someone driving north toward Lake of the Woods, moving fast, coming to her rescue. An honest, quiet man. A man without guile or hidden history. Maybe she had grown tired of tricks and trapdoors, a husband she had never known, and later that night, when she said “Dream time,” maybe it was this she meant—an escape dream, a dream she would now enter.

      Among the missing, as among the dead, there is only the flux of possibility.

      Maybe a heaven, maybe not.

      Maybe she couldn’t bear to tell him. Maybe she staged it. Not likely, but not implausible either. The motives were plentiful—fed up, afraid, exhausted by unhappiness. Maybe she woke early the next morning and slipped out of bed and got dressed and moved out to the porch and quietly closed the door behind her and walked up the narrow dirt road to where a car was waiting.

       6

       Evidence

      We called him Sorcerer. It was a nickname.

       —Richard Thinbill

       Exhibit Seven: Photograph of John Wade, age 12

      Smiling

      Husky, not fat

      Holding a magician’s wand over four white mice

      

      He used to practice down in the basement, just stand in front of that old mirror of his and do tricks for hours and hours. His father didn’t think it was healthy. Always alone, always shut up by himself. A very secretive boy, I think I mentioned that.

       —Eleanor K. Wade

       Exhibit Eight: John Wade’s Box of Tricks, Partial List

      Miser’s Dream

      Horn of Plenty

      Spirit of the Dark

      The Egg Bag

      Guillotine of Death

      Silks

      Pulls

      Wands

      Wires

      Duplicates (6) of father’s necktie

      

      My sister seemed almost scared of him sometimes. I remember this one time when Kathy … Look, I don’t think it’s something we should talk about.

       —Patricia S. Hood

      What did she so desire escape from? Such a captive maiden, having plenty of time to think, soon realizes that her tower, its height and architecture, are like her ego only incidental: that what really keeps her where she is is magic, anonymous and malignant, visited on her from outside and for no reason at all.

       —Thomas Pynchon (The Crying of Lot 49)

       —Judith Herman (Trauma and Recovery)

       —J. W. Appel and G. W. Beebe (Professors of Psychiatry)

      It wasn’t just the war that made him what he was. That’s too easy. It was everything—his whole nature… But I can’t stress enough that he was always very well behaved, always thoughtful toward others, a nice boy. At the funeral he just couldn’t help it. I wanted to yell, too. Even now I’ll go out to my husband’s grave and stare at that stupid stone and yell Why, why, why!

       —Eleanor K. Wade

      You know, I think politics and magic were almost the same thing for him. Transformations—that’s part of it—trying to change things. When you think about it, magicians and politicians are basically control freaks. [Laughter] I should know, right?

       —Anthony L. (Tony) Carbo

       —Robert Parrish (The Magician’s Handbook)

       —Robert A. Caro (The Years of Lyndon Johnson)

       —Woodrow Wilson

      When his father died, John hardly even cried, but he seemed very, very angry. I can’t blame him. I was angry, too. I mean—you know—I kept asking myself, Why? It didn’t make sense. His father had problems with alcohol, that’s true, but there was something else beneath it, like this huge sadness I never understood. The sadness caused the drinking, not the other way around. I think that’s why his father ended up going into the garage that day … Anyway, John didn’t cry much. He threw a few tantrums, I remember that. Yelling and so on. At the funeral. Awfully loud yelling.

       —Eleanor K. Wade