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Back The Third Brother Save as PDF
Chapters (116)
  1. Cover
  2. Also by the Author
  3. The Third Brother
  4. Copyright
  5. Dedication
  6. PART I
  7. 1
  8. 2
  9. 3
  10. 4
  11. 5
  12. 6
  13. 7
  14. 8
  15. 9
  16. 10
  17. 11
  18. 12
  19. 13
  20. 14
  21. 15
  22. 16
  23. 17
  24. 18
  25. 19
  26. 20
  27. 21
  28. 22
  29. 23
  30. 24
  31. 25
  32. 26
  33. 27
  34. 28
  35. 29
  36. 30
  37. 31
  38. 32
  39. 33
  40. 34
  41. 35
  42. 36
  43. 37
  44. 38
  45. 39
  46. 40
  47. 41
  48. 42
  49. 43
  50. 44
  51. 45
  52. 46
  53. 47
  54. 48
  55. 49
  56. 50
  57. 51
  58. 52
  59. 53
  60. 54
  61. 55
  62. 56
  63. 57
  64. 58
  65. 59
  66. PART II
  67. 60
  68. 61
  69. 62
  70. 63
  71. 64
  72. 65
  73. 66
  74. 67
  75. 68
  76. 69
  77. 70
  78. 71
  79. 72
  80. 73
  81. 74
  82. 75
  83. 76
  84. 77
  85. 78
  86. 79
  87. 80
  88. 81
  89. 82
  90. 83
  91. 84
  92. 85
  93. 86
  94. 87
  95. 88
  96. PART III
  97. 89
  98. 90
  99. 91
  100. 92
  101. 93
  102. 94
  103. 95
  104. 96
  105. 97
  106. 98
  107. 99
  108. 100
  109. 101
  110. 102
  111. 103
  112. 104
  113. 105
  114. 106
  115. 107
  116. 108

I don’t know whether what happened the day of the sandwich was an epiphany or not. I think there are many kinds of epiphanies, and this could have been one, this revelation that prompted me to give the man a dollar.

Maybe it matters whether or not you pretend to be retarded. But I realized that he wasn’t pretending to be retarded, he was just working. I wondered what kind of a man he must be to stand there, in such a crowded public place, and say hello to everyone like he did.

He addressed each passerby.

“Hello sir, young lady, young man,” and so on. “Lucky young man,” he might say, “with such a pretty lady. How’d you get such a pretty, why hello, ma’am.” And some of these people smiled back, embarrassed, and some walked straight on without looking, and some listened to music in their headphones and couldn’t hear, and some apologized to him, and sometimes children mocked him quietly among themselves. He stood there for hours and hours a day, every sunny day of the year before the snow came.

He has probably seen everything that a pedestrian can do to a bum. I’m sure he wasn’t surprised at all when I approached him and asked for one of his papers as he was eating his sandwich. I bet he didn’t think anything of it as I handed him the dollar and he handed me the paper.

I said thanks and was off quickly. It was a silent transaction. I bought in.

94

My editor from Asia came to see me. Elliot Analect was knocking on my door. It was a big surprise but maybe it shouldn’t have been. He went to school here, with my father, and was back giving a lecture. Something about freedom of the press in Southeast Asia.

“Your father and I were in this same house,” he said, “but of course you knew that.” He wore a blue suit and a white scarf and stood outside my room, as if he were a relative coming to visit. He was sort of a relative. As much a relative as anybody I have left. He and my father were like brothers once, or so Analect told me. Made me wonder why he sent me to look for Dorr, if he was that close to my father. He must have thought he was sending me on some rite of passage, something good for me. A test. But I failed.

We took a walk, and I wore my leather jacket. He talked about my parents, and I didn’t say anything.

I didn’t need to hear about my parents. I knew what happened to them. I wanted to know what happened in Asia after I left. I realized I didn’t even know if Bishop wrote the story.

“Your father and I had a great time here,” he said.

“What was it like?”