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Darkly dreaming Dexter :: Lindsay Jeffry P.
Страница: 153 из 160It made me what I am-and I had a thought that it might do thesame for you.”
“It did,” I said, “exactly the same.”
“Isn't that nice,” he said. “Family ties.”
I looked at him. My brother. That alien word. If I had said it aloud I am sure I would have stuttered. It was utterly impossible to believe-and even more absurd to deny it. He looked like me. We liked the same things. He even had my wretched taste in jokes.
“I just-” I shook my head.
“Yes,” he said. “It takes a minute to get used to the idea that there are two of us, doesn't it?”
“Perhaps slightly longer,” I said. “I don't know if I-”
“Oh, dear, are we being squeamish? After what happened? Two and a half days of sitting here, bubba. Two little boys, sitting for two and a half days in blood ,” he said, and I felt sick, dizzy, heart floundering, head hammering.
“No,” I gagged, and I felt his hand on my shoulder.
“It doesn't matter,” he said. “What matters is what happens now.”
“What-happens,” I said.
“Yes. What happens. Now.” He made a small, strange, snuffling, gurgling noise that was surely intended to sound like laughter, but perhaps he had not learned to fake it as well as I had. “I think I should say something like: My whole life has been leading up to this!” He repeated the snuffling sound. “Of course, neither one of us could manage that with real feeling. After all, we can't actually feel anything, can we? We've both spent our lives playing a part. Moving through this world reciting lines and pretending we belong in a world made for human beings, and never really human ourselves. And always, forever, reaching for a way to feel something! Reaching, little brother, for a moment just like this! Real, genuine, unfaked feeling! It takes your breath away, doesn't it?”
And it did. My head was whirling and I did not dare to close my eyes again for fear of what might be waiting there for me. And, far worse, my brother was right beside me, watching me, demanding that I be myself, be just like him. And to be myself, to be his brother, to be who I was, I had to, had to-what? My eyes turned, all by themselves, toward Deborah.
“Yes,” he said, and all the cold happy fury of the Dark Passenger was in his voice now. “I knew you'd figure it out. This time we do it together,” he said.
I shook my head, but not very convincingly. “I can't,” I said.
“You have to,” he said, and we were both right.
“It did,” I said, “exactly the same.”
“Isn't that nice,” he said. “Family ties.”
I looked at him. My brother. That alien word. If I had said it aloud I am sure I would have stuttered. It was utterly impossible to believe-and even more absurd to deny it. He looked like me. We liked the same things. He even had my wretched taste in jokes.
“I just-” I shook my head.
“Yes,” he said. “It takes a minute to get used to the idea that there are two of us, doesn't it?”
“Perhaps slightly longer,” I said. “I don't know if I-”
“Oh, dear, are we being squeamish? After what happened? Two and a half days of sitting here, bubba. Two little boys, sitting for two and a half days in blood ,” he said, and I felt sick, dizzy, heart floundering, head hammering.
“No,” I gagged, and I felt his hand on my shoulder.
“It doesn't matter,” he said. “What matters is what happens now.”
“What-happens,” I said.
“Yes. What happens. Now.” He made a small, strange, snuffling, gurgling noise that was surely intended to sound like laughter, but perhaps he had not learned to fake it as well as I had. “I think I should say something like: My whole life has been leading up to this!” He repeated the snuffling sound. “Of course, neither one of us could manage that with real feeling. After all, we can't actually feel anything, can we? We've both spent our lives playing a part. Moving through this world reciting lines and pretending we belong in a world made for human beings, and never really human ourselves. And always, forever, reaching for a way to feel something! Reaching, little brother, for a moment just like this! Real, genuine, unfaked feeling! It takes your breath away, doesn't it?”
And it did. My head was whirling and I did not dare to close my eyes again for fear of what might be waiting there for me. And, far worse, my brother was right beside me, watching me, demanding that I be myself, be just like him. And to be myself, to be his brother, to be who I was, I had to, had to-what? My eyes turned, all by themselves, toward Deborah.
“Yes,” he said, and all the cold happy fury of the Dark Passenger was in his voice now. “I knew you'd figure it out. This time we do it together,” he said.
I shook my head, but not very convincingly. “I can't,” I said.
“You have to,” he said, and we were both right.