Mind of My Mind Read online

  “The one thing I can’t do,” he said softly, “is prevent my people from committing suicide.” Whatever there was about his voice that made it recognizable no matter what body it came from was much stronger. I felt the way I had once when I was ten years old and at a public swimming pool. I couldn’t swim and some fool pushed me into twelve feet of water. I remember I just held my breath and waited. Somebody had told me to do that once, and, scared as I was, I did it. Sure enough, I floated to the surface, where I could breathe and where I could reach the edge of the pool. Now I lay still beneath Doro’s body, waiting.

  He reached out to the night table and picked up a switchblade knife. “This came with the body I’m wearing,” he said. He rolled off me and lay on his back. He pressed a stud on the knife and about six inches of blade jumped out.

  “As I recall, you like knives,” he said. He took my hand and closed my fingers around the handle of the knife. “It doesn’t really matter where you cut me. Just drive the knife in to the hilt anywhere in this body and the shock will force me to jump.”

  I threw the knife across the room. Broke the dresser mirror. “You could at least make him get rid of that damn woman!” I said bitterly.

  He just lay there.

  “Someday there’s going to be a way for me to hurt you, Doro. Don’t think I won’t do it.”

  He shrugged. He didn’t believe it. Neither did I, really. Who the hell could hurt him?

  “I loved you. Why are you humiliating me like this?”

  “Look,” he said, “if he has the woman there to turn to, he’s a lot less likely to let you goad him into hurting you.”

  “I’d be a lot less likely to goad him into anything if you’d get rid of Vivian.”

  “You underestimate yourself,” he said grimly. “Besides, he’s in love with Vivian. If I made him get rid of her, I guarantee you he’d take it out on you.”

  “I just wish I could find a way to take this out on you.”

  He got up and looked down at me. “Change your clothes,” he said. “Then we’ll go.”

  I looked at myself and saw that my pants and blouse were smeared with blood from his hand. I changed my clothes, then packed the rest of my things. Finally, we drove over to Palo Verde Avenue.

  While Doro introduced us, Karl and Vivian stood together looking like sister and brother and staring at my eyes. Which gave them at least one thing in common with everybody else who meets me for the first time. There were times when I wished for a nice, bland pair of brown eyes. Like Karl’s or Vivian’s. Oh, well.

  I watched Vivian, saw how pretty she was, how nervous she was. She was no bigger than me, thank God, and she looked scared, which was promising. Doro had told me Karl wouldn’t let her really resent me or feel angry or humiliated. Wouldn’t let her! She was a Goddamn robot and she didn’t even know it. Or, rather, she did know it but she wasn’t allowed to care.

  Karl looked like one of the bright, ambitious, bookish white guys I remembered from high school. Intense, hair already thinning. Doro had said he was twenty-eight, but he looked older. And he sounded … well, he sounded just the way I would have expected a well-brought-up guy to sound when he’s trying to be polite to somebody he can’t stand. Strained.

  After the short, stiff introductions, Doro took Vivian’s hand as though this wasn’t the first time he had taken it, and said, “Let’s let them get acquainted. How about a swim?”

  Vivian looked at Karl and Karl nodded. She and Doro went out together. I watched them go, wondering about things that weren’t exactly any of my business. I looked at Karl but his face was closed and cold. Then I forgot about Vivian and Doro and wondered what the hell Karl and I were supposed to do now. We were in his tennis-court-sized living room, with its wood paneling and its big white fireplace. We were sitting near the fireplace and we both stared into it instead of at each other.

  Then, finally, I decided to get things started. “Do you suppose there’s any way we can do this and still have a little pride left?”

  Karl looked surprised. I wondered what Doro had been telling him about me. “I was wondering if there was any way for us to manage it at all,” he said.

  I shrugged. “You know as well as I do that we don’t have any choice about that. Do you know what kind of help you’re supposed to give me?”

  “I’m to shield you from the thoughts and emotions you receive when they get to be too much for you. Doro seems to think they will.”

  “Did they for you?”

  “In a way. I passed out a few times.”

  “Shit, I’m already doing that. It hasn’t killed me yet. Did anybody help you?”

  “Not that way. All I had was someone to keep me from banging myself up too badly physically.”

  “Then, why the hell …? No offense, but why am I supposed to need you?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “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 backyard. 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 three of us off, then headed for L.A. Doro challenged Vivian to a game of tennis. I walked three blocks to a bus stop, caught a bus, and rode.

  I knew where I was going. I had to transfer to get there, so there was no way for me to pretend to myself that I wound up there by accident. I got off at Maple and Dell and walked straight to Rina’s house.

  Rina was home, but she had company. I could hear her and her company yelling at each other way out on the sidewalk. I walked around the corner and knocked on Emma’s door. She opened it, looked at me, stood back from the door. I went in and sat down in the big overstuffed chair near the door. I closed my eyes for a while and the ugly old house seemed to go around me like a blanket, shutting out the cold. I took a deep breath, felt relief, release.

  Emma laid a hand on my forehead and I looked up at her. She was young. That meant she had had Doro with her recently. I didn’t look anything like her when she was young. Doro was crazy. I wished I did look that good.

  “You were supposed to get married,” she said.

  “I did. Today.”

  She frowned. “Where’s your husband?”

  “I don’t know. Or care.”

  She sort of half smiled in her know-it-all way that I had always resented before. Now I didn’t care. She could throw all the sarcasm she wanted to at me if she just let me sit there for a while.

  “Stay here for a while,” she said.

  I looked at her, surprised.

  “Stay until someone comes to get you.”

  “They might not even know I’ve gone anywhere. I didn’t say anythin
g. I just left.”

  “Honey, you’re talking about Doro and an active telepath. They know, believe me.”

  “I guess so. I came here on the bus, though. I don’t mind going back that way.” I never liked depending on other people and their cars, anyway. When I rode the bus, I went when I wanted, where I wanted.

  “Stay put. Doro might not have heard you yet.”

  “What?”

  “You’ve said something by coming here. Now the way to make sure that Doro’s heard you is to inconvenience him a little. Just stay where you are. Are you hungry?”

  “Yeah.”

  She brought me cold chicken, potato salad, and a Coke. Brought it to me like I was a guest. She’d never brought me anything she could send me after before in her life.

  “Emma.”

  She had gone back to whatever she was doing at her desk in the dining room. The desk was half covered with official-looking papers. She looked around.

  “Thanks,” I said quietly.

  She just nodded.

  Karl came after me that night. I answered the door, saw him, and turned to say good-bye to Emma, but she was right there looking at Karl.

  “You’re too high, Karl,” she said quietly. “You’ve forgotten where you came from.”

  He looked at her, then looked away. His expression didn’t change, but his voice, when he spoke, was softer than normal. “That isn’t it.”

  “It doesn’t really matter. If you’ve got a problem, you know who to complain to about it—or who to take it out on.”

  He drew a deep breath, met her eyes again, smiled his thin smile. “I hear, Em.”

  I didn’t say anything to him until we were in the car together. Then, “Is she one of the two?”

  He gave me a kind of puzzled glance, then seemed to remember. He nodded.

  “Where do you know her from?”

  “She took care of me once when I was between foster homes. That was before Doro found a permanent home for me. She took care of me again when I was approaching transition. My adoptive parents couldn’t handle me.” He smiled again.

  “What happened to your real parents—real mother, I mean?”