The Price of Escape by David Unger

Author:David Unger [Unger, David]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Akashic
Published: 2011-08-15T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Samuel made his way to a stone bench under a leafy tamarind tree and sat down. The flour had congealed with the sweat on his face. He pulled out his handkerchief and tried rubbing off the paste which had hardened into a thin mask. He dropped his head into his hands. Who cared what he looked like now? He felt so helpless and hapless, at the mercy of his own erratic emotions. Each gesture seemed to be wrong and he had to admit that he, not some foe or goon, was responsible for his troubles.

His control over things was disintegrating and he was powerless to stop it. He was alone in Guatemala, lost in a maze of conflicting thoughts and feelings. He wished he had the peace of mind to dissect his life, examine each wrong turn, analyze the important incidents, but he couldn’t concentrate long enough to sift out the wheat from the chaff. The dwarf, Mr. Price, had called him a drunk on the red steamer—he was wrong about that, but certainly he had lost the ability to react rationally to situations.

No, he wasn’t developing the puffy eyes, the red nose, the lumbering gestures of an alcoholic. He was, however, well on his way to becoming a befuddled mumbler like Father Cabezón, incapable of relying on his own instincts. He had better be careful.

The clouds lay thickly over the water like a quilt. Samuel looked out over Amatique Bay and saw the boat to Livingston plowing along, riding over incoming waves. It wouldn’t have been a good day for sightseeing anyhow—he would’ve gotten sick on the boat. Further in the distance, he saw curtains of rain sweeping toward Puerto Barrios across the water. He knew he should get back to the hotel, but he couldn’t bring himself to move.

Samuel felt desolate—like when he had returned from Berlin and discovered his mother had left his father and moved to Palma with his sister. As soon as he’d seen his father, he’d realized how the abandonment had aged him—gone was the gleam in his eyes, the humorous flashes in his conversation. His father had asked him to wait in the foyer as he retreated to get something from his bedroom. There was absolutely no spring to his step. In a minute he was back, holding the tip of a letter in his fingers as if it were a deadly snake.

The letter said that his mother was on her way to Mallorca. She acknowledged to her husband that they had grown apart and were so different that it was pointless to continue. She said she would send for her things and would appreciate Phillip boxing them up for her. She also insisted that her mind was made up and she didn’t want him to come after her. She didn’t want to see him ever again and she knew that he would be all right.

By the wear on the letter, Samuel realized that his father had read, crushed, opened, and reread it multiple times.

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