The Second Life of Samuel Tyne by Esi Edugyan

Author:Esi Edugyan [Edugyan, Esi]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9780676976311
Publisher: Amistad Press
Published: 2003-12-31T05:00:00+00:00

chapter FOURTEEN

It was one of those mornings when a premature frost seizes everything and yet the sun continues to shine. The older leaves bled on their stems, and people unfamiliar with Alberta’s moody weather might have thought it was autumn.

Samuel fastened the curtains in the Iron Lung to let the sun in. On the pockmarked dresser he set a simplistic arrangement of marigolds with a single, luscious wild rose rising from the centre.

“This one is you,” he told Ama, pointing at the wild rose. “A raving beauty rising like the siren’s song above the others.” Her giggle made him feel appreciated. He patted his hat with an air of pride. “Never mind this electronics business, I should be a poet. A black Homer for modern times.”

When Ama’s laugh receded into coughing, he sat beside her on the bed to pat her back. Two days of quarantine had cleared her chest, bringing back some of her old personality. Even so, she treated the Tynes like strangers, using the shy and rigid table talk of their earlier days. Crushing as this was for Samuel, he couldn’t lament progress. Ama had improved by strides; only a blind man would dispute the colour waking in her face.

“Mr. Tyne?” said Ama in a rusty voice, recovering from her cough. Samuel marvelled at the wonderful grades of colour in her hair, like burnished oak. He ran a hand down her head.

“What is it? Are you feeling sick again?”

Ama’s eyes were wet, her flushed face trembled. “I want to go home.”

“It is impossible. Your parents do not return until September, and you cannot live unsupervised.”

“To Grandma Geneviève’s. She lives just outside Morinville. If you call her, she’ll come for me for sure.”

Samuel looked at the floor. Part of him had suspected this was coming, what with Ama’s evasiveness lately, her kind but marked distance. Still, it pained him so deeply he feared being unable to keep the emotion from his face. Drawing his woollen socks across the beige carpet, he meditated on the way brushing the carpet’s grain could darken and lighten its colour.

“Well,” said Samuel, “you are not a captive here. If that is your wish, I will certainly fulfil it.” Trying to smile, he looked at her. “Your wish is my command.”

Ama flushed, but clasped her hands across the blanket, a formal gesture that seemed to close the matter. Patting her head, Samuel rose to his feet wheezing a little, and trod downstairs to tell his wife.

Maud behaved as though resigning herself to the loss, but her relief was obvious. Samuel went to his study and slammed the door. It was some time before he could bring himself to pick up the phone.

He called Geneviève Ouillet three times in quick succession, to no avail. After fiddling with a radio for an hour, he called three more times and still received no answer. It annoyed him. Where did old women go in the middle of the day, anyway? Two hours later, she finally answered.

But she didn’t speak.

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