dclegg.purity-第2部分

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　Sometimes　I　think　this　is　why　I'm　a　sociopath。　I've　seen　documentaries　on　PBS　about　baby　monkeys　who　are　separated　from　their　mothers　for　a　short　time；　and　this　makes　them　seem　without　conscience　（if　that　is　truly　what　a　sociopath　is；　although　I　don't　believe　it）。　My　mother　said　she　didn't　touch　me　for　the　first　month；　she　was　terrified　I'd　die；　and　because　she　had　already　lost　one　child　…　two　years　earlier　…　in　some　kind　of　crib　death　scenario；　she　feared　holding　her　first　son；　me。　My　father　had　to　do　all　the　touching　and　picking　up；　and　even　…　my　mother　told　me　…　when　I　had　to　nurse　from　her　breast；　she　was　too　terrified。　Instead；　my　aunt　became　my　wet　nurse　…　she　who　had；　just　five　months　before；　given　birth　to　twins　and　seemed　to　have　milk　enough　for　the　entire　population　of　the　island。　There　were　times；　when　I　was　older；　that　I　wished　my　aunt　had　taken　me　back　with　her　to　her　home　on　the　mainland。
　Times　when　I　hated　the　island。　Hated　my　mother　and　father。　Hated　looking　at　the　Montgomery　house　…　the　Montgomery　Mansion；　the　Montgomery　palazzo；　the　Big　Place　…　staring　down　at　us。
　But　I　suppose　all　this　anger　came　about　because　of　those　first　few　days　of　life。
　These　things　aren't　spoken　of　much　in　families　…　how　we　each　came　to　be。　My　mother　suffered　through　bouts　of　depression；　particularly　in　the　winter；　and　she　would　stand　in　front　of　her　bedroom　window；　looking　out　across　the　Sound；　her　face　a　shimmering　reflection　in　the　thick　windowglass；　and　tell　me　all　about　myself。
　She　told　me　that　when　I　was　six　weeks　old；　she　realized　I　had　never　really　cried；　at　least　not　the　way　babies　were　supposed　to。　Instead；　I　would　turn　red；　and　my　mouth　would　open；　and　I'd　scream。　That's　how　she'd　know　I　was　hungry　or　needed　changing。　Because　she　was　so　grateful　to　have　a　child　after　she　felt　God　had　taken　away　her　first　in　retribution　for　youthful　transgressions；　she　tried　not　to　think　about　what　my　lack　of　tears　might　mean。
　As　she'd　tell　this　kind　of　story；　I'd　shift　unfortably　on　her　bed；　wishing　she'd　release　me　from　this　kind　of　intimacy　…　the　closeness　of　her　depression；　the　morbid　way　her　mind　would　pick　over　my　birth　and　early　years。
　〃I'm　so　sorry　that　you　turned　out　this　way；〃　she　said；　once；　her　hands　going　up　to　her　face。　〃I'm　happy　you're　so　smart。　Not　like　your　father。　But　this　madness　that　es　over　you。。。〃
　I　remained　silent；　letting　her　have　her　feelings。　I　didn't　understand　then　to　what　she　referred　…　I　was　not　mad。　I　took　the　ferry　to　go　to　school　over　on　the　mainland　and　did　quite　well　in　school。　The　ferry　takes　an　hour　and　a　half　in　the　winter；　and　only　runs　twice　a　day　…　for　school　hours；　since　Outerbridge　had　no　school　of　its　own。　Thus；　I　spent　many　nights　with　my　Aunt　Susan　in　Rhode　Island；　and　learned　more　about　my　mother's　mother　than　I　had　ever　wanted　to　know。　I　also　managed　…　through　my　cousin　Davy　…　to　make　friends　off…island；　friends　who　believed　I　was　like　them。　And　I　had　a　lot　of　friends　as　a　child。　Although　I　was　not　considered　handsome　at　first　…　at　least　by　my　mother　who　found　my　hair　to　be　too　ominous　in　some　way；　my　eyes　too　blue　and　perhaps　too　sharp；　my　manner　arrogant　（even　as　an　eight…year…old；　she'd　called　me　that）　…　I　began　learning　the　secret　of　athletics　early；　and　applied　myself　to　molding　my　body　the　same　way　I　went　about　molding　my　mind：　I　studied　and　read　and　found　the　boys　who　seemed　to　know　what　they　were　doing；　and　I　gravitated　towards　them。　I　learned　what　they　knew　by　nature。　I　was　uncoordinated　in　most　sports；　until　I　realized　that；　as　in　all　things；　it　was　about　breathing。
　This　is　one　of　the　secrets　of　life：　it's　all　about　breathing。
　5
　Voices　in　the　dark：
　〃It's　all　right；　I　know　you。　I　know　what　we　both　want。〃
　〃Shut　up。　Just　shut　up。〃
　〃e　here。　e　here。　Let　me　help　you。　It's　all　right。　It　feels　good。〃
　〃No；　not　like　this。　No。〃
　〃I've　been　so　lonely。〃
　〃Oh。〃
　〃Wanting　this。〃
　〃Oh。〃
　〃Since　the　first　time　I　saw　you。〃
　〃Oh。〃
　6
　Have　you　ever　felt　that　you　would　do　anything　to　be　with　someone？
　I　almost　feel　sorry　for　you；　if　you　haven't。
　7
　The　purity　of　life　is　in　the　secrets　…　they're　simple；　they　say　everything；　they　are　there　for　anyone；　but　we　must　wake　up　to　the　purity　first　in　order　to　understand　the　secrets。
　My　pursuit　of　physical　excellence　began　early。　I　tackled　solitary　athletics　since　this　seemed　best　for　my　character。　They　were　also　cheaper。　My　family　was　poor　…　have　I　mentioned　that？　Not　poor　poor。　Not　〃out　in　the　street　with　no　food〃　poor；　but　poor　nonetheless。　My　mother's　first　husband　had　been　rich；　but　had　been　a　gambler。　My　mother　…　I　should　call　her　Boston；　for　that's　what　my　father　called　her　even　though　her　name　was　Helen　…　had　been　the　fifth　daughter　in　a　wealthy　family　who　had　married　well　the　first　time　around。
　But　that　man　…　someone　I　had　never　in　my　life　heard　of　beyond　knowing　he　existed　…　apparently　lost　all　his　and　Helen's　money；　and　soon　she　found　my　father；　a　good　man　one　would　suppose；　who　began　his　work　life　as　a　groundskeeper　at　the　Smithsonian　Museum　in　Washington；　DC；　but　ended　up　working　as　a　gardener　for　rich　folk。　It　paid　well　enough　…　like　I　said；　we　weren't　poor　poor。
　My　father　probably　would've　had　more　money；　but　he　had　a　sister　who　was　dying　…　for　years　…　down　in　Annapolis；　Maryland；　and　he　was　her　only　support。　So；　according　to　my　mother；　half　of　his　ine　went　to　her　uping。　〃She　has　the　longest…lived　cancer　I've　ever　heard　of；〃　she'd　say；　sometimes　right　in　front　of　him。
　Of　course；　this　wasn't　all　there　was　to　it；　but　if　I　tell　you　all　the　secrets　of　the　world　at　once；　you'll　either　be　dazzled　or　overwhelmed；　and　there's　no　point　in　making　it　all　explode　right　now。　You'll　want　to　know　why　breathing　is　one　of　the　secrets　of　life。
　All　right；　do　you　know　how　breathing　is　voluntary？　I've　heard　that　people　with　dementia　sometimes　end　up　forgetting　how　to　breathe。　That's　a　terrible　way　to　die；　although　one　would　suppose　that　any　method　of　dying　would　be　awful。　Well；　breathing　is　the　essential　ponent　of　acplishing　anything。
　I　observed　this　early　…　I　was　on　the　school　bus；　and　I　noticed　a　little　girl　next　to　me　who　was　terrified　of　an　uping　test　we　were　about　to　take。　She　would；　in　fact；　stop　breathing　for　seconds　at　a　time。　I　began　to　count　her　breaths；　and　I　saw　that　for　every　four　I　took；　she　took　one。　I　suggested　to　her　that　she　try　just　concentrating　on　her　breathing。　After　a　bit　of　persuasion；　she　did。　It　didn't　seem　to　work。　I　withdrew　my　father's　pocketwatch　…　the　one　I'd　stolen　（yes；　I　stole　things　regularly　around　the　house。　I　have　reasons；　none　of　which　you　want　to　know。）　I　had　learned　a　bit　about　hypnosis；　so　I　asked　her　to　stare　long　and　hard　at　the　brass　of　the　watch　as　the　sunlight　reflected　on　it。　She　asked　me　if　I'd　be　putting　her　under。　I　told　her　no。　This　was；　after　all；　just　suggestion；　nothing　more。　I　would　suggest　something　to　her　and　would　hope　that　her　mind　would　accept　it。　Of　course；　I　was　a　child。　I　didn't　say　it　that　way。　I　said　it　in　some　little　boy　way。　But　eventually；　staring　at　the　watch　so　much　that　her　eyes　teared　up；　I　began　to　help　modulate　her　breathing。　By　the　time　we　reached　school；　she　wasn't　half　as　upset　anymore　about　the　test。
　I　began　asking　the　other　boys　…　the　older　ones　who　were　good　at　softball　and　running　…　what　their　secrets　were。　To　get　their　secrets；　I　entertained　them　with　my　modest　ventriloquism　skills　…　I　could　do　bird　calls　and　the　sounds　of　crickets　and　even　get　a　brief　sentence　out　without　moving　my　lips。
　Boys　like　entertainment　…　so　they　opened　up　and　told　me　about　athletics　and　sports。
　They　all　said　screwy　things；　but　what　I　noticed　were　two　solid　answers：
　breathing　and　imagination。
　They　made　sure　that　they　breathed　through　everything。　They　also　imagined　that　they　would　win。
　This　was　a　huge　revelation　to　me；　since　I　had　never　felt　that　I　could　win　anything。　I　realized　that　these　other　boys　were　winners　in　athletics　because　they　in　fact　believed　they　were　…　whether　from　coaches；　friends；　family　or　whomever　…　and　because　they　did　not　stop　breathing。　They　used　their　breathing　…　without　even　knowing　it　…　to　help　keep　their　bodies　working。
　All　right；　that　sounds　simplistic。　But　I　believe　that　the　simplest　thing