OCR Text |
Show -176 reinforced some of the ceiling beams to support chain-hoists and intricate collections of ropes and pulleys. It was, I saw it for the first time, a room where a man of character had wrestled with life for a long while. "Adam," Carlo said, as if he'd followed my thoughts. "I loved him," I said. "I hated him." He closed his eyes tight and bent his head forward. "That isn't true. It's Alice I hate. My own mother-should I be ashamed of myself, Buck? I should love her, I know that. Poor Adam: he loved Alice. But she's a bitch-I bet you didn't think I knew that, did you? I wish you had hit her instead of just knocking the table over. Somebody should hit her." He stood up, smiling a dreamy smile, but his eyes full of anxiety. He offered me the hammer, handle-first. "Take it." But when I reached out he pulled it away. "No." "Make up your mind." "Don't yell. I can't stand to be yelled at." His smile became dreamier but the eyes stayed in sharp disaccord: worried and anxious. "I think I'm going to break it now." "What? Wait!" I took a step and he turned the dreamy smile on me. "Don't," he said. The hammer lifted from his shoulder and darted at my head; I dropped to my knees and it whistled past my ear. My brother's expression didn't change. |