The Blind Eye (30 page)

Anything else?

He had been about to tell me that there wasn’t, but then he had hesitated. He had said that the sensation was barely worth mentioning, that it didn’t really trouble him, he simply found it strange.

It is like a constant pins and needles
, he had said.
In my upper body. As though there is electricity short-circuiting.

And this is new, this sensation?

It wasn’t, but it had seemed so insignificant with all that followed that Silas had never thought to mention it before. It had bothered him from when he had first arrived in Port Tremaine, and then it had gone, shortly after he had left.

This is what happens
, I had told him, and I had explained about an illness returning to its source before cure.

He had been surprised when I had wanted to give him the additional remedies.
What you’ve done so far is pretty miraculous
, he had said, glancing over to the piece of paper on which I was writing.

It’s not a question of miracles
, and we had both stood up.
It’s just what I have been trained to do
.

As we said goodbye in reception, I repeated my instructions to him.
The Cactus Grandiflorus first, and then, if there’s no improvement, the Lachesis
.

Which is?
he asked.

Snake
.

He did not want to look at me.

It will help
, I said and I wished him well.

As he turned to the door, one hand on the knob, he stopped for a moment.
I just hope I have the courage
.

He was referring to his decision to return, and as I
watched him leave, I, too, hoped he would find the strength he would need, although I was still unaware as to the extent of what it was that he felt he needed to confront.

7

Each time he dreamt of Constance, Silas saw her as he had made her up to be. There she was, impossibly beautiful, the glossy sheen of her hair startling against her ivory skin, her lips too red and soft, her violet eyes fringed by soot-black lashes and her head bent low and graceful, with the petals of that flower spread open in her hands.

He would wake, stunned by the vision. It was usually the early hours of the morning, the darkness tinged with enough grey to let him know he had left night behind, and he would stay completely still, not daring to move as the dream dissolved, disintegrating like ash between his fingers, aware of his desire to tear at his own flesh and the need to resist it.

He did not know how he had done what he had done. He could not comprehend what kind of a person he must have been to act as he had acted and, appalled, he would feel the poison of what he had been, and what he felt he therefore still was, seeping viscous, spreading like tar, bitter and black, from his chest, through his stomach, his limbs; all of him sinking with its weight.

He remembered when he had first decided to travel out to Port Tremaine and it was as though he was remembering another person in another life. Recalling the great flurry with which he had cloaked his departure, the impossible romantic vision of it, made him flinch because he knew the fear he had been trying to hide.

He had stayed awake the night before he made that trip, while Tess Davis had slept, drunkenly sprawled across his bed, and he had smoked joint after joint in an attempt to come down from the speed that had left his jaw tense, his mouth dry and his hands incapable of remaining steady. He had sat in front of the window, alarmed that he could not see his own reflection each time he lit another match, the flame flaring bright in the darkness, and in his paranoid out-of-it state, he had thought that perhaps he did not exist.

Am I here?
he had asked Tess, shaking her awake.

She had looked at him for a brief moment and then closed her eyes again.

In the morning, when he had been convincing her to come with him, he had told her that he loved her, and he had truly believed his words. He had imagined them setting up a life together. He had told her how amazing it would be, what adventures they would have, and she had smoked a cigarette and just nodded in response, her eyes wide and dazed.

This time, the fear Silas felt was not hidden.

Standing in the street with the leaves crisp around his feet, he rang Greta’s buzzer three times. He was folding the note he had written when he saw her, tall and beautiful under the rawness of the clear blue sky, striding towards him, one hand raised in greeting, and there was both defiance and hesitation in the gesture.

They kissed awkwardly, neither of them able to fix their gaze on the other, and she asked him up.

I was going to come and see you earlier
, Silas said.

She sat on the bed, on the other side of the room, and just looked at him as she rolled a cigarette, leaving him stumbling for words.

I’m sorry
, he told her,
about the other night
.

Why?
she asked.

About just going the way I did
.

She licked the paper flat and lit a match, giving it one sharp flick to extinguish the flame. As she inhaled, she crossed her legs, tucking her feet in. She was agitated, it was there in the straightness of her back, the slight twitching of her leg, the sharp tap of her cigarette against the ashtray.

Why did you do it?
she asked him and her voice was suddenly harder than it had been.

He thought, for one awful moment, that she was referring to all that he had told her and she saw the realisation cross his face, the sudden desire to just leave, the mistake he
had made in coming to see her, all there, naked in its terror as he stood up, knocking the edge of her desk, sending her papers flying across the floor.

I’m not talking about that
, she said.

He did not know what she meant.

Why did you pretend that Daniel wanted to hear from me?

He did not know what to say. He had been wanting to help, to do something good, and as he tried to explain, she could see that he, too, did not understand why he had lied in the way he had.

Did you speak to him?
he asked her.

She nodded.

Was it all right?

She turned to the window and her expression was blank as she said she had made the call.
Yesterday evening
, and she jerked her head as though to indicate that the recent past sat only just behind her on the bed.

And?
Silas asked.

We’re having a coffee. In a couple of days
.

Silas watched as she got up and washed out the ashtray under the tap, talking with her back to him. I
wish you hadn’t lied
.

But you don’t hate me for what I did?
Silas asked.

She did not answer for a moment, and her voice was hesitant when she finally spoke.
I don’t like it and I don’t understand you, but I don’t hate you
.

And he had to turn his back to her, he had to stare out the window across the tops of the trees trembling in the breeze as he alluded to the story he had told her, and the decision he had subsequently made.

I wondered whether you were ever going to let me know
, and she explained how she had been to his flat.

I have to at least try to see him
, he said.
I may not do it, but I have to try
.

And you’ll be gone for a while?

He told her he didn’t think so, and her eyes narrowed in disbelief.

That’s what they all say
, and she attempted to laugh.

Sitting opposite her in the cafe where we met, I could see she wished she had been able to show more feeling at the time, but she had only come towards reaching a peace with all he had told her now that he was gone.

Sometimes I think that he was just deluded, that he had simply imagined he saw the snake
, and she played with a sachet of sugar, rolling it in the palms of her hands,
and afterwards, when she was bitten, he hated the part of him that had, for one instant, watched, fascinated, wanting to know what she was; so much so that he thought he caused it all, somehow. I mean, it would all have been so quick, how could he have stopped it?

She squinted slightly, as she looked up to the brightness of the sky.

Other times I am not so sure. He wanted to test her, and in one
of those terrible moments he did the wrong thing, the completely wrong thing
.

I recalled the pain that Silas had inflicted upon himself, and I looked away, not wanting to answer the question that I knew she was asking as I told her that I didn’t know where the truth lay.

She closed her eyes.
We are all capable of desiring the very worst for another
. She put the sugar back in the bowl.
And we are all capable of doing what we think we would never be capable of doing
.

And as I remembered holding Victoria, desperately wanting the sweet wholeness of her body only hours after leaving Greta alone in that ambulance, I told the waiter that we were fine, that we didn’t want anything else, that we were about to go.

8

Silas left, I know that much. His apartment was rented out and he was gone. Walking past his door one afternoon, I glanced at the names at the entrance and saw that his had been taped over. After I had heard all that Greta had to say, I had finally understood why he had needed to return, and why he had been so anxious at the thought, and I had found myself wondering, daily, whether he had actually taken the steps he had been hoping to take, and whether he was all right.

About a month after I passed his apartment, I first heard about this proving and about six weeks after that, I made my decision to come here, taking the turn-off to Port Tremaine on my way out to this house, wanting to see it all for myself and wanting to find out whether he had returned.

Now, four weeks later, we are about to commence.

This morning Jeanie and I took Sam for a walk to the pre-Cambrian gorge about a mile from here. We did not talk for most of the way, the force of the wind was too strong to hear anything, and with our heads bent low, we made our
way in silence to where the rocks lean at different angles to reveal the ages, their surfaces smooth and cold to the touch.