The Passenger (The Passenger, #1)(108)

She walked out to the quarry and stepped down onto the broad shelf of rock and crossed to the pool. A skim of clear ice over the dark water. She held out her arms and made of herself a figure frozen in dance and she tested with one boot the panes of ice.



* * *



—

In the morning she woke to the sound of snuffling and peered from under the quilt to see Miss Vivian huddled in the corner. She sat up with the quilt pulled about her. What is it? she said.

The old woman lifted the veil of her hat so that she could blow her nose. She clutched the balding ferrets of her stole and wadded the soiled handkerchief and held it to her nose and looked at the girl. I’m sorry, she said.

What is it?

I’m all right.

Why are you crying?

Because it’s all so sad.

What’s so sad?

Everything.

You’re crying about everything?

It’s the babies.

The babies?

Yes. It’s just so sad.

She patted about her and came up with her lorgnette and put it to one eye and leaned to study the girl. They’re just so unhappy. They were crying in the shopping center too.

The babies.

Yes.

Why were they crying?

We dont know, do we? We just know that it’s unanimous.

No happy babies?

No. And they try so hard, bless their hearts.

Maybe they know what’s coming.

The old woman blew her nose again, shaking her head. Powdered clay sifted from her face. It’s very puzzling. That people seem to find it natural. Dont you think that’s sad? That no one is concerned?

I dont know. Do they cry all the time?

No. I find them very brave. They want to be happy.

The girl studied her. Her burntlooking costume. The antique dress a deep and burnished purple. Like something left out in the sun. The hat piled with graveyard flowers. The laddered hose.

Are you all right? Are you cold?

I’m fine, my dear. She patted her nose and adjusted the stole about her shoulders and looked up. Maybe you’re right. That they know what’s coming. They seem to be of one mind. It’s a troubling thing, isnt it?

I dont know what view of things babies could have.

The old woman nodded. I know. I think those of us approaching the middle years are often attracted to the young. We dont reckon on the heartache, of course.

Approaching the middle years?

Yes. One such as myself for example.

Of course. What do you think could be done? About the babies.

I dont know. You can distract them. For a while. You cant help but think that they bring their despair into the world with them. Still I cant imagine that they cry in the womb. Even though they might want to.

I’m not sure what the adaptive advantage could be to share an innate and collective misery.

The old woman sat composing herself. She seemed to be taking this under advisement. I’m just an old silly, she said. I dont know what it is that we’ve forgotten. How could anyone know without remembering? I only know that we dont want to remember it. Perhaps you’re right. Perhaps it’s just that they’re afraid.

They’re afraid of falling and loud noises. And drowning. Possibly snakes. I’m not sure how you would derive some atavistic angst out of that.

Well. It’s difficult for us to come to grips with the nature of the problems that babies face. They dont know where they are, of course. They dont know who to trust. They could be in the woods somewhere. Waiting for the wolves.

Waiting for the wolves.

Yes.

I think creatures call out when there’s no danger in doing so. Birds sing because they can fly. If the babies are crying it must mean that they are safe.

The old woman shook her head. Safe babies, she said. Oh how one would like to believe in such a thing.

Do you travel around by yourself?

Yes. No choice, really. I never married. If that’s what you’re asking.

I didnt mean to pry.

I’m not really one of them you know.

The entertainers.

Yes.

But sort of.

Well. One could say. I suppose. But I’ve never been fond of showbusiness people.

You rather keep to yourself I’ve noticed.

It’s just that I’m not fond of make-believe.

Nor I.

Things said in jest are often cruel.

Yes they are.

In another life I’d have done things differently.

Another life.

It’s not that I think so much that the babies have opinions. I think it’s mostly that they just dont like it here. Of course you could ask as compared to where. They’ve never been anyplace before. Let alone here. And they’ve never seen people before and it might be a fair question to ask how it is that they would know that what they were seeing was people. Or if just any sort of creature would do. They’ve never seen themselves. If a baby was born in a house full of Martians I suppose it might take him a while to figure out that he was in the wrong house. What if he did look in the mirror and he had two eyes and everyone else had three?

Do you believe in Martians?

It wouldnt have to be Martians. They could find themselves among bears.

Gladly the crosseyed bear.

I’m sorry?

Bears.

Would that be so bad?

Not unless they ate you. As soon as they get here they start wailing.