Read Online The Second Life of Samuel Tyne by Esi Edugyan - Free Book Online

Terrified, she gave him a disdainful look, flinching as his eyes ran over her face.
    “Sure is a beautiful day,” he said. And with a kind of wonderment, he added, “Yes, yes, it certainly is a beautiful day.” He frowned, as though at a loss to convince himself. He began to pick the lint off his pantlegs, and the gesture was suffused with such sadness that Ama relaxed a little.
    “It is beautiful,” she said. “The marigolds are already out.”
    Her voice seemed to surprise him, as though he’d forgotten she was there. “Marigolds …?” he frowned, followed by a laugh at his own confusion. “Flowers, yes. Little girls do like flowers.” He paused, bringing his rough hands together in his lap. “I myself have always preferred mathematics. Computing machines, such things.”
    Ama nodded, nervous. She didn’t understand the mechanics of his conversation, and was on guard in case it took an uncomfortable turn.
    A gust of wind shook the trees, and they tossed a few needles near Ama’s and Samuel’s feet. Ama watched the marigolds nod. She said, “I like how they look like fire, their colours.” Ripping off a petal, she pinched it between her forefinger and thumb. Her gesture suddenly made her nervous, and she flicked the petal into the dirt.
    Samuel toed it with his loafer. Watching people pass in the distance, he said, “‘The greatest visionary could not achieve world peace, but a single demented zealot could cause dozens of cities to burn.’”
    “Sorry?” said Ama, perplexed.
    He grimaced, as though pained by his own idiosyncratic behaviour. To Ama, he suddenly seemed nothing worse than a baffled old man, someone who’d had the misfortune to age before his time. She gave him a look of pity. “What were you saying about mathematics?”
    Samuel assessed Ama uncertainly, as though making sure he had leave to speak about himself. Touching his bowler the way a beautiful woman reassures herself that every hair is in its place, he began to speak. “Well, I’ve always been a great lover of mathematics. From the first time I laid my eyes on figures—boof!—I was off like that. Numbers have always, always been my first love.” He looked bashfully at Ama, who, knowing there was no suggestiveness in it, nevertheless blushed. Mr. Tyne seemed to take it as condolence. “If I may speak truthfully with you, it is my deepest wish to own an electronics store. Not only to be my own boss, although”—he chuckled—“that would be nice. But because I think I could build something important. A computing—” he broke off, frowning a little, and Ama understood he regretted telling her anything.
    “Sounds great,” she said.
    “Does it?” he said, preoccupied.
    His question was so sincere it touched Ama. It finally struck her that his attraction to her had nothing sexual in it; it had cleaner, sadder roots: estranged from his family, he was a deeply lonely man.
    Ama looked compassionately at him. “You should really do it. It might seem impossible now, but my dad always says you won’t succeed if you’re too scared to try.”
    Samuel felt a little of the amused condescension adults get when children give them advice. He patted Ama’s hair. “Well, let’s go in to supper.”
    Feeling rebuffed, Ama trudged inside after him.
    Ama dreaded dinnertime, because it made a show of allegiances. Mr. and Mrs. Tyne, with the usual childishness that plagues cold marriages, used the gathering to rile up support for their polar causes. They were like politicians at the quick of their campaigns. Mrs. Tyne was obviously dissatisfied with Aster, while Mr. Tyne had only praise. Samuel hadn’t told his wife of his plans to set up his own electronics shop. Meanwhile, she continued to berate him at the dinner table while behind her back he sold off or secretly fetched the valuables left in the Calgary house. He lied and said he was trying to find work in Edmonton. He’d also been seeking out a storefront, and had seen a few