Mind of My Mind by Octavia E. Butler Read Free Book Online Page B

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?"
     
    "She . . . died."
     
    I turned to look at him. His expression had gone grim. "By herself," I asked, "or with
    help?"
     
    "It's an ugly story."
     
    I shrugged. "Okay." I looked out the window.
     
    "But, then, you're no stranger to ugly stories." He paused. "She was an alcoholic, my
    mother. And she wasn't exactly normal—sane—during those rare times when she was
    sober. Doro says she was too sensitive. Anyway, when I was about three, I did something
    that made her mad. I don't remember what. But I remember very clearly what happened
    afterward. For punishment, she held my hand over the flame of our gas range. She held it
    there until it was completely charred. But I was lucky. Doro came to see her later that
    same day. I wasn't even aware of when he killed her. I remember, I wasn't aware of
    anything but alternating pain and exhaustion between the time she burned me and the
    time Doro's healer arrived. You might know the healer. She's one of Emma's
    granddaughters. Over a period of weeks, she regenerated the stump that I had left into a
    new hand. Even now, ten years after my transition, I don't understand how she did it. She
    does for other people the things Emma can only do for herself. When she had finished,
    Doro placed me with saner people."
     
    I whistled. "So that's what Emma meant."
     
    "Yes."
     
    I moved uncomfortably in the seat. "As for the rest of what she said, Karl . . ."
     
    "She was right."
     
    "I don't want anything from you."
     
    He shrugged.
     
    He didn't say much more to me that night. Doro was still at the house, paying a lot of
    attention to Vivian. I had dinner with them all, then went to bed. I could put up with them
    until my transition, surely. Then maybe for a change I'd be one of the owners instead of
    one of the owned.
     
    I was almost asleep when Karl came up to my room. Neither of us put a light on but
    there was light enough from one of the windows for me to see him. He took off his robe,
    threw it into a chair and climbed into bed with me.
     
    I didn't say anything. I had plenty to say and all of it was pretty caustic. I didn't doubt
    that I could have gotten rid of him if I had wanted to. But I didn't bother. I didn't want
    him but I was stuck with him. Why play games?
     
    He was all right, though. Gentle and, thank God, silent. I didn't know whether he had
     

 
    come to me out of charity, duty, or curiosity, and I didn't want to know. I knew he still
    resented me—at least resented me. Maybe that was why, when we were finished, he got
    up and went to get his robe. He was going back to his own room.
     
    "Karl."
     
    I could see him turn to look in my direction.
     
    "Stay the night."
     
    "You want me to?" I didn't blame him for sounding surprised. I was surprised.
     
    "Yes. Come on back." I didn't want to be alone. I couldn't have put into words how
    much I suddenly didn't want to be alone, couldn't stand to be alone, how much it scared
    me. I found myself remembering how Rina would pace the floor at night sometimes. I
    would see her crying and pacing and holding her head. After a while, she would go out
    and come back with some bum who usually looked a little like her—like us. She'd keep
    him with her the rest of the night even if he didn't have a dime in his pocket, even if he
    was too drunk to do anything. And sometimes even if he knocked her around and called
    her names that trash like him didn't have the right to call anybody. I used to wonder how
    Rina could live with herself. Now, apparently, I was going to find out.
     
    Karl came back to my bed without another word. I didn't know what he was thinking,
    but he could have really hurt me with just a few words. He didn't. I tried to thank him for
    that.
     

 
    Chapter Three
     
    KARL
     
    The warehouse was