| Itsy Bitsy Spider |
|
|
Page 6 of 8 He bowed, then pivoted solemnly so that I saw him in profile, framed by the picture window. "Where have I been? Where am I? Fair daylight?" He held up a trembling hand and blinked at it uncomprehendingly. "I know not what to say. I swear these are not my hands." Suddenly the bot was at his feet. "O look upon me, sir," she said, in her childish voice, "and hold your hand in benediction o'er me." "Pray, do not mock me." My father gathered himself in the flood of morning light. "I am a very foolish, fond old man, fourscore and upward, not an hour more or less; and to deal plainly, I fear I am not in my perfect mind." He stole a look in my direction, as if to gauge my reaction to his impromptu performance. A frown might have stopped him, a word would have crushed him. Maybe I should have but I was afraid he'd start talking about mom again, telling me things I didn't want to know. So I watched instead, transfixed. "Methinks I should know you ..." He rested his hand briefly on the bot's head. "... and know this stranger." He fumbled at the controls and the exolegs carried him across the room toward me. As he drew nearer, he seemed to sluff off the years. "Yet I am mainly ignorant what place this is; and all the skill I have remembers not these garments, nor I know not where I did lodge last night." It was Peter Fancy who stopped before me; his face a mere kiss away from mine. "Do not laugh at me; for, as I am a man, I think this lady to be my child. Cordelia." He was staring right at me, into me, knifing through make-believe indifference to the wound I'd nursed all these years, the one that had never healed. He seemed to expect a reply, only I didn't have the line. A tiny, sad squeaky voice within me was whimpering, You left me and you got exactly what you deserve. But my throat tightened and choked it off. The bot cried, "And so I am! I am!" But she had distracted him. I could see confusion begin to deflate him. "Be your tears wet? Yes, faith. I pray ... weep not. If you have poison for me, I will drink it. I know you do not love me ...." He stopped and his brow wrinkled. "It's something about the sisters," he muttered. "Yes," said the bot, "'... for your sisters have done me wrong ...'" "Don't feed me the fucking lines!" he shouted at her. "I'm Peter Fancy, god damn it!"
|
||||||||||
| < Prev | Next > |
|---|