按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
an old movie。 Seeing them together； I could no longer deny the pattern to Gil's life。
Charlie and I kept up much better。 To be honest； he wouldn't let me go。 He holds the distinction in my life of being the hardest…working friend I've ever had； the one who refuses to let a friendship fail just because the distance grows and the memories fade。 In the first year of medical school； he married a woman who reminded me of his mother。 Their first child； a daughter； was named after her。 Their second child； a son； was named after me。 A bachelor myself； I can judge Charlie as a father honestly； without worrying how I fare in parison。 The only way to do it justice is to say that Charlie is an even better father than friend。 In the way he cares for his children there is a hint of the natural protectiveness； the world…beating energy； the enormous gratitude for the privilege of life； that he always showed at Princeton。 Today he is a pediatrician； God's own doctor。 His wife says that on certain weekends he still runs with the ambulance。 I hope someday； as he still believes； Charlie Freeman will e before heaven at the hour of judgment。 I've never known a better man。
What became of me； I'm hard…pressed to say。 After graduation I returned to Columbus。 Except for a single trip to New Hampshire； I spent all three months of my summer at home。 Whether it was because my mother understood my loss even better than I did； or because she couldn't help feeling glad that Princeton was behind me…behind us…she opened up。 We talked； she joked。 We ate together； just the two of us。 We sat on the old sledding hill； the one my sisters used to pull me up； and she told me what she'd been doing with herself。 There were plans to open a second bookstore； this one in Cleveland。 She explained the business model； the way she'd been running the ledgers； the possibility of selling the house now that it was going to be empty。 I understood only the most important part； which was that she'd finally started moving on。
For me； though； the problem wasn't moving on。 It was understanding。 As the years have passed； the other uncertainties of my life have seemed to clarify themselves in a way my father's life never did。 I can imagine what Richard Curry was thinking on that Easter weekend： that Paul was in the same position Curry himself had once been in； that it would be unbearable to let his orphan son bee another Bill Stein or Vincent Taft； or even Richard Curry。 My father's old friend believed in the gift of a clean slate； a blank check on an unlimited trust； it just took us too long to understand him。 Even Paul； in the days when I still hoped for his survival； gave me reason to think he'd simply left us all behind； escaping through the tunnels without ever returning； the dean had left him with little hope of graduation； and I had left him with no hope of Chicago。 When I'd asked him where he wanted to be； he'd told me honestly： in Rome； with a shovel。 But I never reached the age when I could ask my father those sorts of questions； even if； in retrospect； he was probably the sort of man to give them an honest answer。
I suppose； then； looking back on it； that the only way I can explain why I became an English major after having lost my faith in books…why I had such a sense of possibility working on Colonna's book after rejecting my father's love of it…is that I was looking for those pieces I thought my father must have left me； the ones that could piece him back together。 For as long as I knew Paul； for the duration of our research on the Hypnerotomachia； the answer almost seemed to be in my grasp。 For as long as we worked together； there was always hope I might eventually understand。
When that hope fled； I honored my contract and became a software analyst。 The job I got by solving a riddle； I took because I'd failed to solve another。 Time in Texas passed more quickly than I can account for。 The heat of summer there reminded me of nothing I'd known before； so I stayed。 Katie and I wrote almost weekly during her last two years at Princeton； letters I began to wait for in the mail； even as they became less frequent。 The last time I saw her was during a trip to New York to celebrate my twenty…sixth birthday。 By the end of it； I think even Charlie could sense that time had e between Katie and me。 As we walked through Prospect Park in the autumn sun； near the Brooklyn gallery where Katie worked； I began to understand that the things we once cherished had remained behind us at Princeton； and that the future had failed to replace them with a vision of things yet to e。 Katie； I knew； had been hoping to begin something new that weekend； to chart a new course by a new set of stars。 But the possibility of rebirth； which had buoyed my father for so long； and preserved his faith in his son； was an article of faith I'd slowly e to doubt。 After that weekend； I began to fall out of Katie's life entirely。 Shortly afterward； she called me at work for the last time。 She knew the problem lay on my end of things； that mine were the letters that had bee shorter and more distant。 Her voice brought back an ache I hadn't expected。 She told me I wouldn't be hearing from her again until I figured out for myself where we stood。 Finally； she gave me her number at a new gallery； and told me to call when things were different。
Things were never different。 Not for me； anyway。 It wasn't long before my mother's new bookstore prospered； and she called me back to run the one in Columbus。 I told her it was too difficult to leave Texas； now that I had roots。 My sisters visited me； and Charlie with his family once； each leaving with advice on how I could get myself out of this slump； how I could get past this； whatever it was。 The truth is； I've just been watching things change around me。 The faces are younger every year； but I see the same formulations in all of them； reissued like money； new priests in old denominations。 I remember that in the economics class I took with Brooks； we were taught that a single dollar； circulated long enough； could buy everything in the world…as if merce were a candle that could never burn itself out。 But I see that same dollar now in every exchange。 The goods it buys； I no longer need。 Most days； they hardly seem like goods at all。
It was Paul who weathered time's passage the best。 He always remained at my side； twenty…two and brilliant； like an incorruptible Dorian Gray。 I believe it was when my engagement to an assistant professor at the University of Texas began to collapse…a woman who reminded me； I see now； of my father and mother and Katie all at once…that I took to calling Charlie every week； and thinking of Paul more and more。 I wonder if he wasn't right to go out as he did。 Striving。 Young。 While we； like Richard Curry； suffered the depredations of age； the disappointments of a promising youth。 Death is the only escape from time； it seems to me now。 Maybe Paul knew he was beating it all along： past； present； and any distinction in between。 Even now； he seems to be leading me toward the most important conclusions of my life。 I still consider him my closest friend。
Chapter 30
Maybe； then； I'd made my decision before I ever received this pa