sk.thetalisman-第6节
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sunlight felt different from the light in California。 It seemed somehow thinner； colder； less nourishing。 The wave out in the dark ocean melted away； then hoisted itself up again； and a hard dazzling streak of gold leaped across it。 Jack turned away from his window。 He had already showered and dressed； and his body's clock told him that it was time to start moving toward the schoolbus stop。 Seven…fifteen。 But of course he would not go to school today； nothing was normal anymore； and he and his mother would just drift like ghosts through another twelve hours of daytime。 No schedule； no responsibilities； no homework 。 。 。 no order at all except for that given them by mealtimes。
Was today even a schoolday？ Jack stopped short beside his bed； feeling a little flicker of panic that his world had bee so formless 。 。 。 he didn't think this was a Saturday。 Jack counted back to the first absolutely identifiable day his memory could find； which was the previous Sunday。 Counting forward made it Thursday。 On Thursdays he had puter class with Mr。 Balgo and an early sports period。 At least that was what he'd had when his life had been normal； a time that now seemed…though it had e to an end only months ago…irretrievably lost。
He wandered out of his bedroom into the living room。 When he tugged at the drawstring for the curtains the hard bright light flooded into the room； bleaching the furniture。 Then he punched the button on the television set and dropped himself onto the stiff couch。 His mother would not be up for at least another fifteen minutes。 Maybe longer； considering that she'd had three drinks with dinner the night before。
Jack glanced toward the door to his mother's room。
Twenty minutes later he rapped softly at her door。 'Mom？' A thick mumble answered him。 Jack pushed the door open a crack and looked in。 She was lifting her head off the pillow and peering back through half…closed eyes。
'Jacky。 Morning。 What time？'
'Around eight。'
'God。 You starving？' She sat up and pressed the palms of her hands to her eyes。
'Kind of。 I'm sort of sick of sitting in here。 I just wondered if you were getting up soon。'
'Not if I can help it。 You mind？ Go down to the dining room； get some breakfast。 Mess around on the beach； okay？ You'll have a much better mother today if you give her another hour in bed。'
'Sure；' he said。 'Okay。 See you later。'
Her head had already dropped back down on the pillow。
Jack switched off the television and let himself out of the room after making sure his key was in the pocket of his jeans。
The elevator smelled of camphor and ammonia…a maid had tipped a bottle off a cart。 The doors opened； and the gray desk clerk frowned at him and ostentatiously turned away。 Being a movie star's brat doesn't make you anything special around here； sonny 。 。 。 and why aren't you in school？ Jack turned into the panelled entrance to the dining room…The Saddle of Lamb…and saw rows of empty tables in a shadowy vastness。 Perhaps six had been set up。 A waitress in a white blouse and red ruffled skirt looked at him； then looked away。 Two exhausted…looking old people sat across a table from each other at the other end of the room。 There were no other breakfasters。 As Jack looked on； the old man leaned over the table and unselfconsciously cut his wife's fried egg into four…inch square sections。
'Table for one？' The woman in charge of The Saddle of Lamb during the day had materialized beside him； and was already plucking a menu off a stack beside the reservation book。
'Changed my mind； sorry。' Jack escaped。
The Alhambra's coffee shop； The Beachber Lounge； lay all the way across the lobby and down a long bleak corridor lined with empty display cases。 His hunger died at the thought of sitting by himself at the counter and watching the bored cook slap down strips of bacon on the crusty grill。 He would wait until his mother got up： or； better yet； he would go out and see if he could get a doughnut and a little carton of milk at one of the shops up the street on the way into town。
He pushed open the tall heavy front door of the hotel and went out into the sunlight。 For a moment the sudden brightness stung his eyes…the world was a flat glaring dazzle。 Jack squinted； wishing he had remembered to bring his sunglasses downstairs。 He went across the apron of red brick and down the four curving steps to the main pathway through the gardens at the front of the hotel。
What happened if she died？
What happened to him…where would he go； who would take care of him； if the worst thing in the world actually took place and she died； for good and all died； up in that hotel room？
He shook his head； trying to send the terrible thought away before a lurking panic could rush up out of the Alhambra's well…ordered gardens and blast him apart。 He would not cry； he would not let that happen to him…and he would not let himself think about the Tarrytoons and the weight she had lost； the feeling that he sometimes had that she was too helpless and without direction。 He was walking very quickly now； and he shoved his hands into his pockets as he jumped down off the curving path through the gardens onto the hotel's drive。 She on the run； son； and you on the run with her。 On the run； but from whom？ And to where？ Here…just to here； this deserted resort？
He reached the wide street that travelled up the shoreline toward the town； and now all of the empty landscape before him was a whirlpool that could suck him down into itself and spit him out into a black place where peace and safety had never existed。 A gull sailed out over the empty road； wheeled around in a wide curve； and dipped back toward the beach。 Jack watched it go； shrinking in the air to a smudge of white above the erratic line of the roller…coaster track。
Lester Speedy Parker； a black man with crinkly gray hair and heavy lines cutting down through his cheeks； was down there somewhere inside Funworld and it was Speedy he had to see。 That was as clear to Jack as his sudden insight about his friend Richard's father。
A gull screeched； a wave bounced hard gold light toward him； and Jack saw Uncle Morgan and his new friend Speedy as figures almost allegorically opposed； as if they were statues of NIGHT and DAY； stuck up on plinths； MOON and SUN…the dark and the light。 What Jack had understood as soon as he had known that his father would have liked Speedy Parker was that the ex…bluesman had no harm in him。 Uncle Morgan； now 。 。 。 he was another kind of being altogether。 Uncle Morgan lived for business； for deal…making and hustling； and he was so ambitious that he challenged every even faintly dubious call in a tennis match； so ambitious in fact that he cheated in the penny…ante card games his son had now and then coaxed him into joining。 At least； Jack thought that Uncle Morgan had been cheating in a couple of their games 。 。 。 not a man who thought that defeat demanded graciousness。
NIGHT and DAY； MOON and SUN； DARK and LIGHT； and the black man was the light in these polarities。 And when Jack's mind had pushed him this far； all that panic he had fought off in the hotel's tidy gardens swarmed toward him again。 He lifted his feet and ran。
2
When the boy saw Speedy kneeling down outside the gray and peeling arcade building…wrapping electrician's tape around a thick cord； his steel…wool head bent almost to the pier and his skinny buttocks poking out the worn green seat of his work…pants； the dusty soles of his boots toed down like a pair of upended surfboards…he realized that he had no idea of what he had been planning to say to the custodian； or even if he intended to say anything at all。 Speedy gave the roll of black tape another twist around the cord； nodded； took a battered Palmer knife from the flap pocket of his workshirt and sliced the tape off the roll with a flat surgical neatness。 Jack would have escaped from here； too； if he could…he was intruding on the man's work； and anyhow； it was crazy to think that Speedy could really help him in any way。 What kind of help could he give； an old janitor in an empty amusement park？
Then Speedy turned his head and registered the boy's presence with an expression of total and warming wele…not so much a smile as a deepening of all those heavy lines in his face…and Jack knew that he was at least no intrusion。
'Travellin Jack；' Speedy said。 'I was beginnin to get afraid you decided to stay away from me。 Just when we got to be friends； too。 Good to see you again； son。'
'Yeah；' Jack said。 'Good to see you； too。'
Speedy popped the metal knife back into his shirt pocket and lifted his long bony body upright so easily； so athletically； that he seemed weightless。 'This whole place in down around my ears；' he said。 'I just fix it a little bit at a time； enough so everything works more or less the way it should。' He stopped in mid…sentence； having had a good look at Jack's face。 'Old world's not so fine right now； seems like。 Travellin Jack got buckled up to a load of worries。 That the way it is？'
'Yeah； sort of；' Jack began…he still had no idea of how to begin expressing the things that troubled him。 They could not be put into ordinary sentences；
