The Gray House

“Are they going to take Noble away now?” I asked, in a clumsy attempt to change the subject.

Black was wiping dust off the bunny and didn’t even look in my direction.

“Probably. I wouldn’t be so hung up about this. But for the guys in here, there’s nothing worse in the whole world. For them, there’s no life in the Outsides. As for me, I’m counting down the days until graduation. I guess I’m a black sheep in that regard.”

Being a seasoned and much-persecuted black sheep in my own right, I nodded understandingly. Now I knew what made Black different from the others.

“I understand,” I said. “That’s how it was with me too, the last half year.”

“And that’s why I find you easy to talk to,” Black said.

I nodded again. We were silent for a while. This mute understanding was growing between us, and we were afraid words might spook it. It’s not that I considered Black to be right about everything. But I had to admit that talking to him was indeed much easier than talking to Sphinx or Humpback.

“Noble is not well,” Black said suddenly, apparently trying to get everything that was bothering him out in the open. “Tried to kill himself a couple years ago. Once, twice . . . Sphinx got to him. With his drills, like a sergeant. Amazing how he’s crawling around now, right? Well, you should have seen the way Sphinx was driving him. Followed him one step behind, and as soon as Noble stopped he’d step on his legs. So Noble was in turns crawling and yelping. Crying and still crawling. A sickening sight. And Sphinx kept following and stepping on him.”

I had to close my eyes when I imagined what he was talking about.

“Black, stop it,” I said. “This is too much.”

“Sure,” Black said. “It’s better not to know. To continue thinking that Sphinx is this sweet guy. Very helpful, if you want to blend in.”

I let that pass. I was still trying to come to terms with the image of sadistic Sphinx trampling someone’s legs with a beatific smile on his face. I had a hard time even imagining this. But at the same time I realized that Black wasn’t lying, and this contradiction was driving me crazy.

“Black, I’m sorry,” I said finally. “I didn’t want to interrupt. I guess I am better off knowing things like that, at least to . . . to better understand what’s what. But I need some time to adjust. To absorb the information.”

“I’m fine with that,” Black replied. “I didn’t tell you all this so that you start avoiding Sphinx from now on. That’s not the point. The point is that Noble is nuts. He’s sick. Always has been. Even before Sphinx added to it. He needs treatment. So when Sphinx goes all righteous on me, telling me that I, wouldn’t you know, behaved despicably, I want to just laugh it off. But when six other people, who, by the way, all witnessed everything I’ve told you about, when those six all agree with him, that’s no longer funny. Make sense?”

“Yeah.”

Black took out another cigarette.

“Just wanted, you know, for at least one person in this damned zoo to understand. Just one.”

He lit up. I saw that his knuckles were scraped, and his hands trembled so much that he couldn’t quite connect the end of the cigarette with the lighter’s flame.

I was sitting there, stunned, torn between anger and pity. I understood him. I understood him all too well. But I didn’t want to. Because it meant becoming a black sheep again. Only this time there’d be two of us. And I so wished to become a full-fledged member of the pack. To be with them, to be one of them.

“I understand you. I do. I’m sorry if it doesn’t look that way from the outside.”

“No, I’m sorry. I guess I shouldn’t have dumped all of this on you.”

But he was obviously glad I’d said that. And I realized that this was it. There was no going back. I chose Black.

I was trying to convince myself that maybe this wasn’t quite the end of the world when Black finished his cigarette, tossed the butt over the back of the sofa, and got up, favoring his aching leg.

“Let’s roll,” he said. “Now we’re definitely not going to make it before it’s dark.”

He stuffed the pink bunny into his pocket.

We didn’t make it even as far as the Second when the lights went out. They blinked twice, and then it was dark. I’d been forewarned and prepared, but still I startled. Black was right: if I were to find myself alone in this inky blackness, I’d just be stuck wherever I was when it came. But Black did have a flashlight. Now I was holding it, and he was pushing the wheelchair.

I was still digesting our conversation and must have been doing a lousy job of lighting our way, because at some point Black stopped and told me to point the flashlight straight ahead. I apologized and raised it higher.

The murals on the walls looked different. They loomed out of the darkness in fragments, most of them unfamiliar, even those that I passed several times each day. And when faced with the White Bull I simply gasped in astonishment. Black understood and stopped, giving me the opportunity to fully illuminate the drawing.