Mind of My Mind (7 page)

"Oh, well. I guess it doesn't matter. It's his decision and we're stuck with it. All we

can do is try to find the least uncomfortable way of living with it."

"We'll work something out." He stood up. "Let me show you around the house."

He showed me his fantastic library first, and that helped me warm to him a little. A

guy with a room like that in his house couldn't be all bad. Like the living room, it was

huge, with that beautiful wood paneling. The fireplace and the windows were the only

spots of wall not covered with books. Most of the floor was covered by the biggest

oriental rug I had ever seen. There was a long, solid, heavy wooden reading table, a big

desk, a lot of upholstered chairs. The high ceiling was wood carved in a regular octagonal

pattern and hung with four small, simple chandeliers. While I was growing up, Forsyth

Public Library was my second home. It was someplace I could go and be by myself. I

could get away from Rina and her whining and her johns and away from Emma period. I

actually liked the little old ladies who worked there, and they sort of adopted me. That

was where I got into the habit of reading everything I could get my hands on. And now . .

. well, old-fashioned libraries of wood and stone and books were still like home to me.

The city tore down Forsyth Public a few years ago and built a new one of steel and glass

and concrete and air conditioning that was always turned too high. A cold box. I went to

it two or three times, then gave up. But Karl's library was perfect. I had walked away

from him to look at some of the book titles.

"You like books?"

I jumped. I hadn't heard him come up beside me. "I love them. I hope you don't care

if I spend a lot of time in here."

Karl made a straight line of his mouth and glanced over at his desk. His desk, right.

His work area.

"Okay, so I won't spend a lot of time in here. Show me my room, will you?"

"You can use the library whenever I'm not working in here," he said.

"Thanks." I could see there was going to be a certain coldness about this library, too.

He showed me the rest of the first floor before he took me up to what was going to be

my bedroom. Large, businesslike kitchen. Large, businesslike cook. She was friendly,

though, and she was a black woman. That helped. Formal dining room. Small, handsome

study—why the hell couldn't Karl work there? Game room with billiard table. Large

service porch. As big as the house was, though, it was smaller than it looked from the

outside. I thought it might turn out to be a more comfortable home than I had expected.

Karl and I stood on the porch and looked out at his park of a back yard. Tennis court.

Swimming pool and bath house. We could see Doro and Vivian splashing around in the

pool. Grass. Trees. There was a multicar garage off to one side, and I got a glimpse of a

cottage almost hidden by trees.

"The gardener and his wife live out there," Karl told me. "His wife is the maid. The

cook helps with the housework, too, when she isn't busy in the kitchen. She lives upstairs,

in the servants' quarters."

"Did you inherit all this or something?" I asked. I wouldn't have been surprised if he'd

said, "None of your business."

"I had one of my people sign it over to me," he said. "He was going to put it up for

sale anyway and he didn't need the money."

I looked at him. The expression on his thin, angular face hadn't changed at all. I

hooted with laughter. I couldn't help it. "You stole it! Oh, God. Beautiful; you're human,

after all. And here I have to make do with shoplifting."

He gave me a forced smile. "I'll show you where your room is now."

"Okay. Can I ask you another question?"

He shrugged.

"How do you feel about black people?"

He looked at me, one eyebrow raised. "You've seen my cook."

"Right. So how do you feel about black people?"

"I've known exactly two of them well before now. They were all right." Emphasis on

the "they."

I frowned, looked at him. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"That you shouldn't get the idea that I dislike you because you're black."

"Oh."

"I wouldn't want you here no matter what color you were."

I sighed. "You're going to make this even harder than it has to be, aren't you?"

"You asked."

"Well . . . I'm no happier to be here than you are to have me, but we're either going to

have to get used to each other or we're going to have to keep out of each other's way a lot.

Which won't be easy even in a house as big as this."

"Why did you and Doro fight?"

"What?" My first thought was that he was reading my mind. Then I realized that even

if he hadn't seen Doro's hand, I had a big bruise on my jaw.

"You know damn well why we fought."

"Tell me. I answered your questions."

"Why does a telepath bother to ask questions?"

"Out of courtesy. Shall I stop?"

"No! We fought . . . because Doro didn't tell me about Vivian until about two hours

ago."

There was a long pause. Then, "I see. How did you feel about marrying me before

you found out about Vivian?"

"My grandmother married Doro," I said. "And, of course, my mother married him.

I've expected to marry him myself ever since I was old enough to know what was going

on. I wanted to. I loved him."

"Past tense?"

I almost didn't answer. I realized that I was ashamed. "No."

"Not even after he decides to marry you off to a stranger?"

"I've loved him for years. I guess it takes me a while to turn my emotions around."

"You probably never will. I've met several of his people since my transition. He uses

me to keep them in line without killing them. And he's done terrible things to some of

them. But I've never met one who hates him. Those who don't kill themselves by

attacking him as soon as he acts against them always seem to forgive him."

Somehow that didn't surprise me. "Do you hate him?"

"No."

"In spite of . . . everything?" I remembered Vivian going out hand in hand with Doro.

"In spite of everything," he said quietly.

"Can you read his mind?"

"No."

"But why not? He says he's not a telepath. How could he stop you?"

"You'll find out after your transition. This will be your room." We were on the second

floor. He opened the door he had stopped in front of.

The bedroom was white, and I guess you could call it elegant. There was a small

crystal chandelier. There was a huge bed and a large dresser with a beautiful mirror. I'd

have to be careful how I threw things. There was a closet that was going to look empty

even after I hung up the new clothes Doro had bought me. There were chairs, little tables

. . .

It was just a really nice room. I peered into the mirror at my bruise. Then I sat down

in a chair by the window and looked out at the front lawn as I spoke to Karl. "What do I

do after my transition?"

"Do?"

"Well, I'll be able to read minds. I'll be able to steal better without getting caught—if I

still want to. I'll be able to snoop through other people's secrets, even make robots of

people. But . . ."

"But?"

"What am I supposed to do—except maybe have babies?" I turned to face him and

saw by his expression that he wished I hadn't said that last. I didn't care.

"I'm sure Doro will find some work for you," he said. "He probably already has

something in mind."

Just at that moment, someone was hit by a car. I sensed enough to know that it was

nearby, within a few blocks of Karl's house. I felt the impact. I might have said

something. Then I felt the pain. A slow-motion avalanche of pain. I know I screamed

then. That hit me harder than anything I'd ever received. Finally the pain got to be too

much for the accident victim. He passed out. I almost passed out with him. I found

myself curled into a tight knot on the chair, my feet up and my head down and throbbing.

I looked up to see whether Karl was still there, and found him watching me. He

looked interested but not concerned, not inclined to give me any of the help he was

supposed to give. I had a feeling that, if I survived transition, I would do it on my own.

"There's aspirin in the bathroom," he said, nodding toward a closed door. Then he

turned and left.

Five days later, we were married at city hall. For those five days, I might as well have

been alone in that big house. Doro left the day he brought me, and didn't come back. I

saw Karl and Vivian at meals or ran into them accidentally around the house. They were

always polite. I wasn't.

I tried talking to the servants, but they were silent, contented slaves. They worked, or

they sat in their quarters watching television and waiting for the master's voice.

I joined Karl and Vivian out by the pool one day and what looked like a really

interesting conversation came to a dead halt.

The only times I ever felt comfortable was when I was in my room with the door shut,

or in the library when Karl wasn't home. He spent a lot of time in Los Angeles keeping an

eye on the businesses he controlled for Doro and the ones he had taken over for his own,

personal profit. Evidently he did more for them than just steal part of their profits. For

me, he did nothing at all.

Doro showed up to see us married. Not that there was any kind of ceremony beyond

the bare essentials. He went home with us—or with Vivian and me. Karl dropped the