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- Даниэл Киз
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- Цветы для Элджернона
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- Стр. 122/233
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I
can
’
t
say
I
remember
Rose
’
s
face
.
Although
the
recent
photograph
is
a
clear
one
,
I
still
see
it
through
the
gauze
of
childhood
.
I
knew
her
,
and
I
didn
’
t
know
her
.
Had
we
passed
on
the
street
,
I
would
not
have
recognized
her
,
but
now
,
knowing
she
is
my
mother
,
I
can
make
out
the
faint
details
—
yes
!
Thin
,
drawn
into
exaggerated
lines
.
Sharp
nose
and
chin
.
And
I
can
almost
hear
her
chatter
and
bird
-
screech
.
Hair
done
up
in
a
bun
,
severely
.
Piercing
me
with
her
dark
eyes
.
I
want
her
to
take
me
into
her
arms
and
tell
me
I
am
a
good
boy
,
and
at
the
same
time
I
want
to
turn
away
to
avoid
a
slap
.
Her
picture
makes
me
tremble
.
And
Norma
—
thin
-
faced
too
.
Features
not
so
sharp
,
pretty
,
but
very
much
like
my
mother
.
Her
hair
worn
down
to
her
shoulders
softens
her
.
The
two
of
them
are
sit
ting
on
the
living
room
couch
.
It
was
Rose
’
s
face
that
brought
back
the
frightening
memories
.
She
was
two
people
to
me
,
and
I
never
had
any
way
of
knowing
which
she
would
be
.
Perhaps
she
would
re
veal
it
to
others
by
a
gesture
of
hand
,
a
raised
eyebrow
,
a
frown
—
my
sister
knew
the
storm
warnings
,
and
she
would
always
be
out
of
range
whenever
my
mother
’
s
temper
flared
—
but
it
always
caught
me
unawares
.
I
would
come
to
her
for
comforting
,
and
her
anger
would
break
over
me
.
And
other
times
there
would
be
tenderness
and
holding
-
close
like
a
warm
bath
,
and
hands
stroking
my
hair
and
brow
,
and
the
words
carved
above
the
cathedral
of
my
childhood
:
He
’
s
like
all
the
other
children
.
He
’
s
a
good
boy
.
I
see
back
through
the
dissolving
photograph
,
myself
and
father
leaning
over
a
bassinet
.
He
’
s
holding
me
by
the
hand
and
saying
,
"
There
she
is
.
You
mustn
’
t
touch
her
be
cause
she
’
s
very
little
,
but
when
she
gets
bigger
you
’
ll
have
a
sister
to
play
with
.
"
I
see
my
mother
in
the
huge
bed
nearby
,
bleached
and
pasty
,
arms
limp
on
the
orchid
-
figured
comforter
,
raising
her
head
anxiously
.
"
Watch
him
,
Matt
—
"
That
was
before
she
had
changed
towards
me
,
and
now
I
realize
it
was
because
she
had
no
way
of
knowing
yet
if
Norma
would
be
like
me
or
not
.
It
was
later
on
,
when
she
was
sure
her
prayers
had
been
answered
,
and
Norma
showed
all
signs
of
normal
intelligence
,
that
my
mother
’
s
voice
began
to
sound
different
.
Not
only
her
voice
,
but
her
touch
,
her
look
,
her
very
presence
—
all
changed
.
It
was
as
if
her
magnetic
poles
had
reversed
and
where
they
had
once
attracted
now
repelled
.
I
see
now
that
when
Norma
flowered
in
our
garden
I
became
a
weed
,
allowed
to
exist
only
where
I
would
not
be
seen
,
in
corners
and
dark
places
.
