Read Online The Childhood of Jesus by J. M. Coetzee - Free Book Online Page A

nettle—‘is there a man in your life?’
    She frowns. ‘I have friends. Some are women, some are men. I don’t distinguish between them.’
    The path narrows. She goes ahead; he falls behind, eyeing the sway of her hips. He prefers a woman with more flesh on her bones. Nevertheless, he likes Elena.
    â€˜As for me, it is not a distinction I can give up,’ he says. ‘Or would wish to give up.’
    She slows to let him catch up, gives him a straight look. ‘No one should have to give up what is important to him,’ she says.
    The two boys return, panting after their run, glowing with health. ‘Have we got anything to drink?’ demands Fidel.
    It is not until they are in the bus, going home, that he has another chance to speak to Elena.
    â€˜I don’t know about you,’ he says, ‘but the past is not dead in me. Details may have grown fuzzy, but the feel of how life used to be is still quite vivid. Men and women, for instance: you say you have got beyond that way of thinking; but I haven’t. I still feel myself to be a man, and you to be a woman.’
    â€˜I agree. Men and women are different. They have different roles to play.’
    The two boys, in the seat in front of them, are whispering together, giggling. He takes Elena’s hand in his. She does not pull free. Nevertheless, by the inscrutable means by which the body speaks, her hand gives answer. It dies in his grasp like a fish out of water.
    â€˜May I ask,’ he says: ‘Are you beyond feeling anything for a man?’
    â€˜I don’t feel nothing,’ she replies slowly and carefully. ‘On the contrary, I feel goodwill, much goodwill. Towards both you and your son. Warmth and goodwill.’
    â€˜By goodwill do you mean you wish us well? I am struggling to grasp the concept. You feel benevolent towards us?’
    â€˜Yes, exactly.’
    â€˜Benevolence, I must tell you, is what we keep encountering here. Everyone wishes us well, everyone is ready to be kind to us. We are positively borne along on a cloud of goodwill. But it all remains a bit abstract. Can goodwill by itself satisfy our needs? Is it not in our nature to crave something more tangible?’
    Deliberately Elena extracts her hand from his. ‘You may want more than goodwill; but is what you want better than goodwill? That is what you should be asking yourself.’ She pauses. ‘You keep referring to David as “the boy.” Why don’t you use his name?’
    â€˜David is a name they gave him at the camp. He doesn’t like it, he says it is not his true name. I try not to use it unless I have to.’
    â€˜It is quite easy to change a name, you know. You go to the registry office and fill out a name-change form. That’s all. No questions.’ She leans forward. ‘And what are you two whispering about?’ she demands of the boys.
    Her son smiles back at her, raises his fingers to his lips, pretending that what occupies the two of them is secret business.
    The bus deposits them outside the Blocks. ‘I would have liked to invite you in for a cup of tea,’ says Elena, ‘but unfortunately it is time for Fidelito’s bath and supper.’
    â€˜I understand,’ he says. ‘Goodbye, Fidel. Thank you for the walk. We had a good time.’
    â€˜You and Fidel seem to get on well together,’ he remarks to the boy once they are alone.
    â€˜He is my best friend.’
    â€˜So Fidel feels goodwill towards you, does he?’
    â€˜Lots of goodwill.’
    â€˜How about you? Do you feel goodwill too?’
    The boy nods vigorously.
    â€˜Anything else besides?’
    The boy gives him a puzzled look. ‘No.’
    So there he has it, out of the mouths of babes and sucklings. From goodwill come friendship and happiness, come companionable picnics in the parklands or companionable afternoons strolling in the forest. Whereas from love, or at least from