iancaldwell&dustinthomason.theruleoffour-第50部分

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　〃I　did。〃
　〃Paul　Harris　left　the　auditorium　before　Dr。　Taft's　lecture　was　over。〃
　〃Yes。〃
　〃He　knew　where　Stein's　office　was。〃
　〃They　worked　together。　Yes。〃
　〃It　was　his　idea　to　break　into　the　art　museum？〃
　〃He　had　keys。　We　didn't　break　in。〃
　〃And　it　was　his　idea　to　go　through　Stein's　desk。〃
　I　know　better　than　to　keep　responding。　There　are　no　right　answers　now。
　〃He　ran　from　the　campus　police　outside　of　Dr。　Taft's　office；　Tom。　Why　would　he　do　that？〃
　But　she　wouldn't　understand；　and　doesn't　want　to。　I　know　where　this　is　heading；　but　all　I　can　think　of　is　what　she　said　about　Charlie。
　If　he　pulls　through　this。
　〃He's　a　straight…A　student；　Tom。　That's　his　identity　here。　Then　Dr。　Taft　found　out　about　the　plagiarism。　Who　do　you　suppose　told　Taft？〃
　Brick　by　brick；　as　if　it's　just　a　matter　of　building　a　wall　between　friends。
　〃William　Stein；〃　she　says；　knowing　I've　passed　the　point　of　helping　her。　〃Imagine　how　Paul　felt。　How　angry　would　he　have　been？〃
　Suddenly　a　knock　es　at　the　door。　Before　either　of　us　can　say　a　word；　it　swings　open。
　〃Detective？〃　says　another　officer。
　〃What　is　it？〃
　〃There's　someone　out　here　to　talk　to　you。〃
　〃Who？〃
　He　glances　down　at　a　card　in　his　hand。　〃A　dean　from　the　college。〃
　The　detective　remains　seated　for　a　second；　then　rises　toward　the　door。
　There's　a　tight　silence　after　she　leaves。　After　long　enough；　when　she　doesn't　return；　I　sit　up　in　bed；　looking　around　for　my　shirt。　I've　had　enough　of　hospitals；　and　I'm　well　enough　to　nurse　this　arm　myself。　I　want　to　see　Charlie；　I　want　to　know　what　they've　said　to　Paul。　My　jacket　is　hanging　from　the　coatrack；　and　I　begin　to　shift　my　weight　gingerly　to　get　out　of　bed。
　Just　then；　the　knob　shifts　and　the　door　swishes　open。　Detective　Gwynn　returns。
　〃You're　free　to　go；〃　she　says　abruptly。　〃The　dean's　office　will　be　contacting　you。〃
　I　can　only　wonder　what　happened　out　there。　The　woman　hands　me　her　card　and　looks　at　me　closely。　〃But　I　want　you　to　think　about　what　I　said；　Tom。〃
　I　nod。
　There　seems　to　be　something　more　she'd　like　to　add；　but　she　holds　her　tongue。　Without　another　word；　she　turns　around　and　leaves。
　When　the　door　shuts；　another　hand　reaches　in　to　push　it　open。　I　freeze；　waiting　for　the　dean　to　enter。　But　this　time　it's　a　friendly　face。　Gil　has　arrived；　and　he's　bearing　gifts。　In　his　left　hand　is　exactly　what　I　need　right　now：　a　clean　change　of　clothes。
　〃You　okay？〃　he　asks。
　〃Yeah。　What's　going　on？〃
　〃I　got　a　call　from　Will　Clay。　He　told　me　what　happened。　How's　your　shoulder？〃
　〃Fine。　Did　he　say　anything　about　Charlie？〃
　〃A　little　bit。〃
　〃Is　he　okay？〃
　〃Better　than　when　he　got　here。〃
　There's　something　to　the　way　Gil　says　it。
　〃What's　wrong？〃　I　ask。
　〃Nothing；〃　Gil　says　finally。　〃The　cops　talked　to　you？〃
　〃Yeah。　Paul　too。　Did　you　see　him　out　there？〃
　〃He's　in　the　waiting　room。　Richard　Curry's　with　him。〃
　I　fumble　out　of　bed。　〃He　is？　Why？〃
　Gil　shrugs；　eyeing　the　hospital　food。　〃Need　some　help？〃
　〃With　what？〃
　〃Getting　dressed。〃
　I'm　not　sure　if　he's　kidding。　〃I　think　I　can　handle　it。〃
　He　smiles　as　I　struggle　to　peel　off　the　hospital　gown。　〃Let's　check　on　Charlie；〃　I　say；　getting　used　to　my　own　feet　again。
　But　now　he　hesitates。
　〃What's　wrong？〃
　An　odd　look　es　over　him；　embarrassed　and　angry　at　the　same　time。
　〃He　and　I　got　into　it　pretty　deep　last　night；　Tom。〃
　〃I　know。〃
　〃I　mean　after　you　and　Paul　left。　I　said　some　things　I　shouldn't　have。〃
　I　remember　how　clean　the　room　was　this　morning。　This　is　why　Charlie　didn't　sleep。
　〃It　doesn't　matter；〃　I　say。　〃Let's　go　see　him。〃
　〃He　wouldn't　want　to　see　me　right　now。〃
　〃Of　course　he　would。〃
　Gil　runs　a　finger　beneath　his　nose；　then　says；　〃The　doctors　don't　want　him　disturbed；　anyway。　I'll　e　back　later。〃
　He　pulls　his　keys　out　of　his　pocket　and　there's　something　sad　in　his　eyes。　Finally；　he　puts　a　hand　on　the　doorknob。
　〃Give　me　a　call　at　Ivy　if　you　need　anything；〃　he　says；　and　when　the　door　slides　open；　silent　on　its　hinges；　he　steps　out　into　the　hallway。
　The　officer　is　gone；　and　even　the　old　woman　in　her　wheelchair　is　nowhere　to　be　seen。　Someone　has　taken　the　yellow　sandwich　board　away。　I　wait　for　Gil　to　look　back；　but　he　doesn't。　Before　I　can　say　another　word；　he　turns　the　corner　toward　the　exit　and　is　gone。
　　
　Charlie　described　to　me　once　what　epidemics　did　to　human　relationships　in　past　centuries；　how　diseases　made　men　shun　the　infected　and　fear　the　healthy；　until　parents　and　children　wouldn't　sit　at　the　same　table　with　each　other；　and　the　whole　body　politic　began　to　rot。　You　don't　get　sick　if　you　stay　to　yourself；　I　told　him；　sympathizing　with　those　who　took　to　the　hills。　Then　Charlie　looked　at　me；　and　in　ten　words　made　the　best　argument　in　favor　of　doctors　that　I've　ever　heard；　which　I　think　applies　equally　well　to　friendships。　Maybe　not；　he　said。　But　you　don't　get　well　that　way　either。
　The　feeling　I　got　watching　Gil　leave…the　one　that　made　me　think　of　what　Charlie　said…is　the　same　one　I　feel　as　I　walk　into　the　waiting　room　and　find　Paul　sitting　by　himself：　we　are　each　alone　in　this　now；　and　for　the　worse。　Paul　cuts　an　odd　figure　there；　solitary　in　a　row　of　white　plastic　seats；　holding　his　head　as　he　stares　at　the　floor。　It's　a　pose　he　always　strikes　when　he's　deep　in　thought；　leaning　over　with　his　fingers　wrapped　behind　the　base　of　his　skull；　both　elbows　on　his　knees。　More　nights　than　I　can　remember；　I've　woken　up　to　find　him　sitting　at　his　desk　that　way；　a　pen　between　his　fingers；　an　old　lamp　casting　light　over　the　pages　of　his　notebook。
　My　first　instinct；　thinking　of　that；　is　to　ask　him　what　he　found　in　the　diary。　Even　after　everything　that's　happened；　I　want　to　know；　I　want　to　help；　I　want　to　remind　him　of　an　old　partnership　so　that　he　doesn't　feel　alone。　But　seeing　him　bent　over　the　way　he　is；　fighting　with　himself　over　an　idea；　I　know　better。　I　have　to　remember　how　he　slaved　over　his　thesis　after　I　left；　how　many　mornings　he　came　to　breakfast　with　red　eyes；　how　many　nights　we　brought　him　cups　of　black　coffee　from　the　WaWa。　If　someone　could　count　the　sacrifices　he　made　for　Colonna's　book；　put　a　number　to　them　the　way　a　prisoner　scratches　marks　on　a　wall；　they　would　dwarf　what　little　sweat　of　mine　I've　added　to　the　balance。　Partnership　is　what　he　wanted　months　ago；　when　I　refused　to　give　it。　All　I　can　offer　now　is　my　pany。
　〃Hey；〃　I　say　quietly；　walking　over　to　his　side。
　〃Tom　。　。　。〃　he　says；　standing。
　His　eyes　are　bloodshot。
　〃You　okay？〃　I　ask。
　He　rubs　a　sleeve　across　his　face。　〃Yeah。　How　about　you？〃
　〃I'm　okay。〃
　He　looks　at　my　arm。
　〃It'll　be　fine；〃　I　say。
　Before　I　can　tell　him　about　Gil；　a　young　doctor　with　a　thin　beard　steps　into　the　waiting　room。
　〃Is　Charlie　okay？〃　Paul　asks。
　Watching　the　doctor；　I　feel　a　ghost　impact；　like　standing　at　the　tracks　as　a　train　hurtles　by。　He　is　wearing　light　green　scrubs；　the　same　color　as　the　walls　of　the　hospital　where　I　did　my　rehabilitation　after　the　accident。　A　bitter…looking　color；　like　olives　mashed　with　limes。　The　physical　therapist　told　me　to　stop　looking　down；　that　I　would　never　learn　to　walk　again　if　I　couldn't　stop　staring　at　the　pins　in　my　leg。　Look　forward；　she　said。　Always　forward。　So　I　stared　at　the　green　of　the　walls。
　〃His　condition　is　stable；〃　says　the　man　in　the　scrubs。
　Stable；　I　think。　A　doctor's　word。　For　two　days　after　they　stopped　the　bleeding　in　my　leg；　I　was　stable。　It　just　meant　that　I　was　dying　less　quickly　than　before。
　〃Can　we　see　him？〃　Paul　asks。
　〃No；〃　the　man　says。　〃Charlie　is　still　unconscious。〃
　Paul　hesitates；　as　if　unconscious　and　stable　ought　to　be　mutually　exclusive。　〃Is　he　going　to　be　okay？〃
　The　doctor　es　up　with　a　look；　something　gentle　but　certain；　and　says；　〃I　think　the　worst　is　over。〃
　Paul　smiles　faintly　at　the　man；　then　thanks　him。　I　don't　tell　Paul　what　it　really　means。　In　the　emergency　room　they　are　washing　their　hands　and　mopping　the　floors；　waiting　for　the　next　gurney　off　the　ambulance。　The　worst　is　over；　for　the　doctors。　For　Charlie；　it's　just　begun。
　〃Thank　God；〃　Paul　says；　almost　to　himself。
　And　looking　at　him　now；　watching　the　way　relief　sets　over　his　face；　I　realize　something。　I　never　believed　that　Charlie　would　die　from　what　happened　down　there。　I　never　believed　that　he　could。
　Paul　doesn't　say　much　as　I　check　myself　out；　except　to　mumble　something　about　the　cruelty　of　what　Taft　said　to　me　at　his　office。　There's　hardly　any　paperwork　to　plete；　just　a　form　or　two　to　sign；　a　campus　ID　to　flash；　and　as　I　struggle　to　write　my　name　with　my　bad　hand；　I　sense　that　the　dean　has　been　here　already；　smoothing　out　the　wrinkles　in　advance。　I　wonder　again　what　she　told　the　detective　to　get　the　two　of　us　released。
　Then　I　remember　what　Gil　told　me。　〃Curry　was　here？〃
　〃He　left　just　before　you　got　out。　He　didn't　look　good。〃
　〃Why　not？〃
　〃He　was　wearing　the　same　suit　he　wore　last　night。〃
　〃He　knew　about　Bill？〃
　〃Yeah。　It　was　almost　like　he　thought　。　。　。〃　Paul　lets　the　thought　trail　off。　〃He　said；　'We　understand　each　other；　son。'　〃
　〃What　does　that　mean？〃
　〃I　don't　know。　I　think　he　was　forgiving　me。〃
　〃Forgiving　you？〃
　〃He　told　me　I　shouldn't　worry。　Everything　was　going　to　be　okay。〃
　I'm　floored。　〃How　could　he　think　you　would　do　that？