iancaldwell&dustinthomason.theruleoffour-第77部分

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　I　hugged　Charlie　before　we　parted。　A　week　later；　he　called　me　at　home　to　ask　if　I　planned　to　attend　our　class　reunion　the　following　year。　It　was　the　sort　of　pretext　only　Charlie　would　invent　for　a　phone　call；　and　we　spoke　for　several　hours。　Finally；　he　asked　if　I　would　give　him　Gil's　address　in　Italy。　He　said　he'd　found　a　postcard　Gil　would　enjoy；　which　he　tried　to　describe　to　me。　I　realized；　underneath　what　he　was　saying；　that　Gil　hadn't　given　him　a　forwarding　address。　Things　between　them　had　never　really　recovered。
　I　wasn't　in　Italy；　that　summer　or　afterward。　Gil　and　I　met　three　times　in　the　four　years　that　followed；　each　time　at　a　class　reunion。　There　was　less　and　less　to　be　said　between　us。　The　facts　of　his　life　gradually　assembled　with　the　graceful　preordination　of　words　in　a　litany。　He　returned　to　Manhattan　after　all；　like　his　father；　he　became　a　banker。　Unlike　me；　he　seemed　to　age　well。　At　twenty…six；　he　announced　his　engagement　to　a　beautiful　woman　one　year　our　junior；　who　reminded　me　of　a　star　from　an　old　movie。　Seeing　them　together；　I　could　no　longer　deny　the　pattern　to　Gil's　life。
　Charlie　and　I　kept　up　much　better。　To　be　honest；　he　wouldn't　let　me　go。　He　holds　the　distinction　in　my　life　of　being　the　hardest…working　friend　I've　ever　had；　the　one　who　refuses　to　let　a　friendship　fail　just　because　the　distance　grows　and　the　memories　fade。　In　the　first　year　of　medical　school；　he　married　a　woman　who　reminded　me　of　his　mother。　Their　first　child；　a　daughter；　was　named　after　her。　Their　second　child；　a　son；　was　named　after　me。　A　bachelor　myself；　I　can　judge　Charlie　as　a　father　honestly；　without　worrying　how　I　fare　in　parison。　The　only　way　to　do　it　justice　is　to　say　that　Charlie　is　an　even　better　father　than　friend。　In　the　way　he　cares　for　his　children　there　is　a　hint　of　the　natural　protectiveness；　the　world…beating　energy；　the　enormous　gratitude　for　the　privilege　of　life；　that　he　always　showed　at　Princeton。　Today　he　is　a　pediatrician；　God's　own　doctor。　His　wife　says　that　on　certain　weekends　he　still　runs　with　the　ambulance。　I　hope　someday；　as　he　still　believes；　Charlie　Freeman　will　e　before　heaven　at　the　hour　of　judgment。　I've　never　known　a　better　man。
　　
　What　became　of　me；　I'm　hard…pressed　to　say。　After　graduation　I　returned　to　Columbus。　Except　for　a　single　trip　to　New　Hampshire；　I　spent　all　three　months　of　my　summer　at　home。　Whether　it　was　because　my　mother　understood　my　loss　even　better　than　I　did；　or　because　she　couldn't　help　feeling　glad　that　Princeton　was　behind　me…behind　us…she　opened　up。　We　talked；　she　joked。　We　ate　together；　just　the　two　of　us。　We　sat　on　the　old　sledding　hill；　the　one　my　sisters　used　to　pull　me　up；　and　she　told　me　what　she'd　been　doing　with　herself。　There　were　plans　to　open　a　second　bookstore；　this　one　in　Cleveland。　She　explained　the　business　model；　the　way　she'd　been　running　the　ledgers；　the　possibility　of　selling　the　house　now　that　it　was　going　to　be　empty。　I　understood　only　the　most　important　part；　which　was　that　she'd　finally　started　moving　on。
　For　me；　though；　the　problem　wasn't　moving　on。　It　was　understanding。　As　the　years　have　passed；　the　other　uncertainties　of　my　life　have　seemed　to　clarify　themselves　in　a　way　my　father's　life　never　did。　I　can　imagine　what　Richard　Curry　was　thinking　on　that　Easter　weekend：　that　Paul　was　in　the　same　position　Curry　himself　had　once　been　in；　that　it　would　be　unbearable　to　let　his　orphan　son　bee　another　Bill　Stein　or　Vincent　Taft；　or　even　Richard　Curry。　My　father's　old　friend　believed　in　the　gift　of　a　clean　slate；　a　blank　check　on　an　unlimited　trust；　it　just　took　us　too　long　to　understand　him。　Even　Paul；　in　the　days　when　I　still　hoped　for　his　survival；　gave　me　reason　to　think　he'd　simply　left　us　all　behind；　escaping　through　the　tunnels　without　ever　returning；　the　dean　had　left　him　with　little　hope　of　graduation；　and　I　had　left　him　with　no　hope　of　Chicago。　When　I'd　asked　him　where　he　wanted　to　be；　he'd　told　me　honestly：　in　Rome；　with　a　shovel。　But　I　never　reached　the　age　when　I　could　ask　my　father　those　sorts　of　questions；　even　if；　in　retrospect；　he　was　probably　the　sort　of　man　to　give　them　an　honest　answer。
　I　suppose；　then；　looking　back　on　it；　that　the　only　way　I　can　explain　why　I　became　an　English　major　after　having　lost　my　faith　in　books…why　I　had　such　a　sense　of　possibility　working　on　Colonna's　book　after　rejecting　my　father's　love　of　it…is　that　I　was　looking　for　those　pieces　I　thought　my　father　must　have　left　me；　the　ones　that　could　piece　him　back　together。　For　as　long　as　I　knew　Paul；　for　the　duration　of　our　research　on　the　Hypnerotomachia；　the　answer　almost　seemed　to　be　in　my　grasp。　For　as　long　as　we　worked　together；　there　was　always　hope　I　might　eventually　understand。
　When　that　hope　fled；　I　honored　my　contract　and　became　a　software　analyst。　The　job　I　got　by　solving　a　riddle；　I　took　because　I'd　failed　to　solve　another。　Time　in　Texas　passed　more　quickly　than　I　can　account　for。　The　heat　of　summer　there　reminded　me　of　nothing　I'd　known　before；　so　I　stayed。　Katie　and　I　wrote　almost　weekly　during　her　last　two　years　at　Princeton；　letters　I　began　to　wait　for　in　the　mail；　even　as　they　became　less　frequent。　The　last　time　I　saw　her　was　during　a　trip　to　New　York　to　celebrate　my　twenty…sixth　birthday。　By　the　end　of　it；　I　think　even　Charlie　could　sense　that　time　had　e　between　Katie　and　me。　As　we　walked　through　Prospect　Park　in　the　autumn　sun；　near　the　Brooklyn　gallery　where　Katie　worked；　I　began　to　understand　that　the　things　we　once　cherished　had　remained　behind　us　at　Princeton；　and　that　the　future　had　failed　to　replace　them　with　a　vision　of　things　yet　to　e。　Katie；　I　knew；　had　been　hoping　to　begin　something　new　that　weekend；　to　chart　a　new　course　by　a　new　set　of　stars。　But　the　possibility　of　rebirth；　which　had　buoyed　my　father　for　so　long；　and　preserved　his　faith　in　his　son；　was　an　article　of　faith　I'd　slowly　e　to　doubt。　After　that　weekend；　I　began　to　fall　out　of　Katie's　life　entirely。　Shortly　afterward；　she　called　me　at　work　for　the　last　time。　She　knew　the　problem　lay　on　my　end　of　things；　that　mine　were　the　letters　that　had　bee　shorter　and　more　distant。　Her　voice　brought　back　an　ache　I　hadn't　expected。　She　told　me　I　wouldn't　be　hearing　from　her　again　until　I　figured　out　for　myself　where　we　stood。　Finally；　she　gave　me　her　number　at　a　new　gallery；　and　told　me　to　call　when　things　were　different。
　　
　Things　were　never　different。　Not　for　me；　anyway。　It　wasn't　long　before　my　mother's　new　bookstore　prospered；　and　she　called　me　back　to　run　the　one　in　Columbus。　I　told　her　it　was　too　difficult　to　leave　Texas；　now　that　I　had　roots。　My　sisters　visited　me；　and　Charlie　with　his　family　once；　each　leaving　with　advice　on　how　I　could　get　myself　out　of　this　slump；　how　I　could　get　past　this；　whatever　it　was。　The　truth　is；　I've　just　been　watching　things　change　around　me。　The　faces　are　younger　every　year；　but　I　see　the　same　formulations　in　all　of　them；　reissued　like　money；　new　priests　in　old　denominations。　I　remember　that　in　the　economics　class　I　took　with　Brooks；　we　were　taught　that　a　single　dollar；　circulated　long　enough；　could　buy　everything　in　the　world…as　if　merce　were　a　candle　that　could　never　burn　itself　out。　But　I　see　that　same　dollar　now　in　every　exchange。　The　goods　it　buys；　I　no　longer　need。　Most　days；　they　hardly　seem　like　goods　at　all。
　It　was　Paul　who　weathered　time's　passage　the　best。　He　always　remained　at　my　side；　twenty…two　and　brilliant；　like　an　incorruptible　Dorian　Gray。　I　believe　it　was　when　my　engagement　to　an　assistant　professor　at　the　University　of　Texas　began　to　collapse…a　woman　who　reminded　me；　I　see　now；　of　my　father　and　mother　and　Katie　all　at　once…that　I　took　to　calling　Charlie　every　week；　and　thinking　of　Paul　more　and　more。　I　wonder　if　he　wasn't　right　to　go　out　as　he　did。　Striving。　Young。　While　we；　like　Richard　Curry；　suffered　the　depredations　of　age；　the　disappointments　of　a　promising　youth。　Death　is　the　only　escape　from　time；　it　seems　to　me　now。　Maybe　Paul　knew　he　was　beating　it　all　along：　past；　present；　and　any　distinction　in　between。　Even　now；　he　seems　to　be　leading　me　toward　the　most　important　conclusions　of　my　life。　I　still　consider　him　my　closest　friend。
　
　Chapter　30
　
　Maybe；　then；　I'd　made　my　decision　before　I　ever　received　thi