Devoir de Philosophie

Rechercher dans 507102 documents
← →

exactly what to do.

Publié le 06/01/2014

Extrait du document

exactly what to do. Mr. Black grabbed at his ears and made a bunch of weird sounds. He started crying--not out of appiness, I could tell, but not out of sadness, either. Are you OK?" I whispered. he sound of my voice made him cry more, and he nodded his head yes. asked him if he wanted me to make some more noise. e nodded yes, which shook more tears down his cheeks. I went to the bed and rattled it, so that a bunch of the pins and paper clips fell off. He cried more tears. "Do you want me to turn them off?" I asked, but he wasn't paying attention to me anymore. He was walking around the room, sticking his ears up to anything that made any noise, including very quiet things, like pipes. I wanted to stay there watching him hear the world, but it was getting late, and I had a Hamlet rehearsal at 4:30, and it was an extremely important rehearsal, because it was the first one with lighting effects. I told Mr. Black that I would pick him up the next Saturday at 7:00, and we would start then. I told him, "I'm not even through with the A's." He said, "OK," nd the sound of his own voice made him cry the most. essage three. 9:31 A.M. Hello? Hello? Hello? When Mom tucked me in that night, she could tell that something was on my mind, and asked if I wanted to talk. I did, but not to her, so I said, "No offense, but no." "Are you sure?" "Tresfatigué," I said, waving my hand. "Do you want me to read something to you?" "It's OK." "We could go through the New York Times for mistakes?" "No, thank you." "All right," she said, "all right." She gave me a kiss and turned off the light, and then, as she was about to go, I said, "Mom?" and she said, "Yes?" and I said, "Do you promise not to bury me when I die?" She came back over and put her hand on my cheek and said, "You're not going to die." I told her, "I am." She said, "You're ot going to die any time soon. You have a long, long life ahead of you." I told her, "As you know, I'm extremely brave, but can't spend eternity in a small underground place. I just can't. Do you love me?" "Of course I love you." "Then put me in one of those mausoleum-thingies." "A mausoleum?" "Like I read about." "Do we have to talk about this?" "Yes." "Now?" "Yes." "Why?" "Because what if I die tomorrow?" "You're not going to die tomorrow." "Dad didn't think he was going to die the next day." "That's not going to happen to you." "It wasn't going to happen to him." "Oskar." "I'm sorry, but I just can't be buried." "Don't you want to be with Dad and me?" "Dad isn't even there!" "Excuse me?" "His body was destroyed." "Don't talk like that." "Talk like what? It's the truth. I don't understand why everyone pretends he's there." "Take it easy, Oskar." "It's just an empty box." "It's more than an empty box." "Why would I want to spend eternity next to an empty box?" Mom said, "His spirit is there," and that made me really angry. I told her, "Dad didn't have a spirit! He had cells!" "His memory is there." "His memory is here," I said, pointing at my head. "Dad had a spirit," she said, like she was rewinding a bit in our conversation. I told her, "He had cells, and now they're on rooftops, and in the river, and in the lungs of millions of people around New York, who breathe him every time they speak!" "You shouldn't say things like that." "But it's the truth! Why can't I say the truth!" "You're getting out of control." "Just because Dad died, it doesn't mean you can be illogical, Mom." "Yes it does." "No it doesn't." "Get a hold of yourself, Oskar." "Fuck you!" "Excuse me!" "Sorry. I mean, screw you." "You need a time-out!" "I need a mausoleum!" "Oskar!" "Don't lie to me!" "Who's lying?" "Where were you!" "Where was I when?" "That day!" "What day?" "The day!" "What do you mean?" "Where were you!" "I was at work." "Why weren't you at home?" "Because I have to go to work." "Why didn't you pick me up from school like the other oms?" "Oskar, I came home as soon as I could. It takes longer for me to get home than for you to. I thought it would be etter to meet you at the apartment than make you wait at school for me to get to you." "But you should have been home when I got home." "I wish I had been, but it wasn't possible." "You should have made it possible." "I can't make the impossible possible." "You should have." She said, "I got home as quickly as I could." And then she started crying. The ax was winning. put my cheek against her. "I don't need anything fancy, Mom. Just something above ground." She took a deep breath, ut her arm around me, and said, "That might be possible." I tried to think of some way to be hilarious, because I thought hat maybe if I was hilarious, she wouldn't be mad at me anymore and I could be safe again. "With a little elbow room." What?" "I'm gonna need a little elbow room." She smiled and said, "OK." I sniffled again, because I could tell that it was orking. "And a bidet." "Absolutely. One bidet coming up." "And some electrical fencing." "Electrical fencing?" "So that rave robbers won't try to steal all of my jewels." "Jewels?" "Yeah," I said, "I'm gonna need some jewels, too." We cracked up together, which was necessary, because she loved me again. I pulled my feelings book from under my illow, flipped to the current page, and downgraded from DESPERATE TO MEDIOCRE. "Hey, that's great!" Mom said, ooking over my shoulder. "No," I said, "it's mediocre. And please don't snoop." She rubbed my chest, which was nice, lthough I had to turn a little so she wouldn't feel that I still had my key on, and that there were two keys. Mom?" "Yes." "Nothing." What is it, baby?" "Well it's just that wouldn't it be great if mattresses had spaces for your arm, so that when you rolled nto your side, you could fit just right?" "That would be nice." "And good for your back, probably, because it would let our spine be straight, which I know is important." "That is important." "Also, it would make snuggling easier. You know ow that arm constantly gets in the way?" "I do." "And making snuggling easier is important." "Very." MEDIOCRE OPTIMISTIC, BUT REALISTIC I miss Dad." "So do I." "Do you?" "Of course I do." "But do you really?'" "How could you ask that?" "It's just that you don't act like you miss him very much." "What are you talking about?" "I think you know what I'm talking about." "I don't." "I hear you laughing." "You hear me laughing?" "In the living room. With Ron." "You think because I laugh every now and then I don't miss Dad?" I rolled onto my side, away from her. OPTIMISTIC, BUT REALISTIC EXTREMELY DEPRESSED She said, "I cry a lot, too, you know." "I don't see you cry a lot." "Maybe that's because I don't want you to see me cry a lot." "Why not?" "Because that isn't fair to either of us." "Yes it is." "I want us to move on." "How much do you cry?" "How much?" "A spoonful? A cup? A bathtub? If you added it up." "It doesn't work like that." "Like what?" She said, "I'm trying to find ways to be happy. Laughing makes me happy." I said, "I'm not trying to find ways to be happy, and I won't." She said, "Well, you should." "Why?" "Because Dad would want you to be happy." "Dad would want me to remember him." "Why can't you remember him and be happy?" "Why are you in love with Ron?" "What?" "You're bviously in love with him, so what I want to know is, why? What's so great about him?" "Oskar, did it ever occur to you that things might be more complicated than they seem?" "That occurs to me all the time." "Ron is my friend." "So then promise me you won't ever fall in love again." "Oskar, Ron is going through a lot, too. We help each other. We're friends." "Promise me you won't fall in love." "Why would you ask me to promise that?" "Either promise me you'll never fall in love again, or I'm going to stop loving you." "You're not being fair." "I don't have to be fair! I'm your son!" She let out an enormous breath and said, "You remind me so much of Dad." And then I said something that I wasn't planning on saying, and didn't even want to say. As it came out of my mouth, I was ashamed that it was mixed with any of Dad's cells that I might have inhaled when we went to visit Ground Zero. "If I could have chosen, I would have chosen you!" he looked at me for a second, then stood up and walked out of the room. I wish she'd slammed the door, but she didn't. he closed it carefully, like she always did. I could hear that she didn't walk away. EXTREMELY DEPRESSED INCREDIBLY ALONE Mom?" othing. got out of bed and went to the door. I take it back." She didn't say anything, but I could hear her breathing. I put my hand on the doorknob, because I thought maybe her hand was on the doorknob on the other side. "I said I take it back." "You can't take something like that back." "Can you apologize for something like that?" Nothing. "Do you accept my apology?" "I don't know." "How can you not know?" "Oskar, I don't know." "Are you mad at me?" othing. Mom?" Yes." Are you still mad at me?" No." Are you sure?" I was never mad at you." What were you?" Hurt." INCREDIBLY ALONE I GUESS I FELL ASLEEP ON THE FLOOR. HEN I WOKE UP, MOM WAS PULLING MY HIRT OFF TO HELP ME GET INTO MY PJS, HICH MEANS SHE MUST HAVE SEEN ALL F MY BRUISES. I COUNTED THEM LAST IGHT IN THE MIRROR AND THERE WERE ORTY-ONE. SOME OF THEM HAVE OTTEN BIG, BUT MOST OF THEM ARE MALL. I DON'T PUT THEM THERE FOR ER, BUT STILL I WANT HER TO ASK ME OW I GOT THEM (EVEN THOUGH SHE ROBABLY KNOWS), AND TO FEEL SORRY OR ME (BECAUSE SHE SHOULD REALIZE OW HARD THINGS ARE FOR ME), AND TO EEL TERRIBLE (BECAUSE AT LEAST SOME F IT IS HER FAULT), AND TO PROMISE ME

« him upthe next Saturday at7:00, andwewould startthen.

Itold him, "I'mnoteven through withtheA's." Hesaid, "OK," and thesound ofhis own voice made himcrythe most. Message three.9:31A.M.

Hello? Hello?Hello? When Momtucked meinthat night, shecould tellthat something wasonmy mind, andasked ifIwanted totalk.

Idid, but not toher, soIsaid, "Nooffense, butno." "Are yousure?" " Tresfatigué, " Isaid, waving myhand.

"Doyouwant meto read something toyou?" "It'sOK." "Wecould gothrough the New YorkTimes for mistakes?" "No,thank you.""Allright," she said, "allright." Shegave meakiss and turned offthe light, andthen, asshe was about togo, Isaid, "Mom?" andshe said, "Yes?" andIsaid, "Doyoupromise nottobury mewhen Idie?" She came backoverandputherhand onmy cheek andsaid, "You're notgoing todie." Itold her, "Iam." Shesaid, "You're not going todie any time soon.

Youhave along, longlifeahead ofyou." Itold her, "Asyou know, I'mextremely brave,but I can't spend eternity inasmall underground place.Ijust can't.

Doyou love me?" "Ofcourse Ilove you." "Then putmein one ofthose mausoleum-thingies." "Amausoleum?" "LikeIread about." "Dowehave totalk about this?""Yes." "Now?" "Yes." "Why?" "Because whatifIdie tomorrow?" "You'renotgoing todie tomorrow." "Daddidn't thinkhewas going to die the next day." "That's notgoing tohappen toyou." "Itwasn't goingtohappen tohim." "Oskar." "I'msorry, butIjust can't beburied." "Don'tyouwant tobe with Dadandme?" "Dadisn'teven there!" "Excuse me?""Hisbody was destroyed." "Don'ttalklikethat." "Talklikewhat? It'sthe truth.

Idon't understand whyeveryone pretendshe'sthere." "Take iteasy, Oskar." "It'sjustanempty box.""It'smore thananempty box.""Why would Iwant tospend eternity next to an empty box?" Mom said,"Hisspirit isthere," andthat made me really angry. Itold her, "Dad didn't haveaspirit! Hehad cells!" "His memory isthere." "Hismemory ishere," Isaid, pointing atmy head.

"Dadhadaspirit," shesaid, likeshe was rewinding a bit inour conversation.

Itold her, "Hehad cells, andnow they're onrooftops, andinthe river, andinthe lungs ofmillions of people around NewYork, whobreathe himevery timetheyspeak!" "Youshouldn't saythings likethat." "Butit'sthe truth! Why can't Isay the truth! " "You're gettingoutofcontrol." "Justbecause Daddied, itdoesn't meanyoucanbe illogical, Mom.""Yesitdoes." "Noitdoesn't." "Getahold ofyourself, Oskar.""Fuckyou!""Excuse me!""Sorry.

Imean, screw you.""Youneed atime-out!" "Ineed amausoleum!" "Oskar!""Don'tlietome!" "Who's lying?""Where wereyou!" "Where wasIwhen?" "Thatday!""What day?"" The day!" "What doyou mean?" "Wherewereyou!" "Iwas atwork." "Why weren't youathome?" "Because Ihave togo towork." "Whydidn't youpick meupfrom school liketheother moms?" "Oskar,Icame home assoon asIcould.

Ittakes longer forme toget home thanforyou to.Ithought itwould be better tomeet youatthe apartment thanmake youwait atschool forme toget toyou." "Butyoushould havebeen home whenIgot home." "Iwish Ihad been, butitwasn't possible." "Youshould havemade itpossible." "Ican't make the impossible possible.""Youshould have."Shesaid, "Igot home asquickly asIcould." Andthen shestarted crying. The axwas winning. I put mycheek against her."Idon't needanything fancy,Mom.Justsomething aboveground." Shetook adeep breath, put herarm around me,andsaid, "That might bepossible." Itried tothink ofsome waytobe hilarious, becauseIthought that maybe ifIwas hilarious, shewouldn't bemad atme anymore andIcould besafe again.

"Withalittle elbow room." "What?" "I'mgonna needalittle elbow room." Shesmiled andsaid, "OK." Isniffled again,because Icould tellthat itwas working.

"Andabidet." "Absolutely.

Onebidet coming up.""And some electrical fencing.""Electrical fencing?""Sothat grave robbers won'ttrytosteal allofmy jewels." "Jewels?" "Yeah,"Isaid, "I'mgonna needsome jewels, too." We cracked uptogether, whichwasnecessary, becausesheloved meagain.

Ipulled myfeelings bookfromunder my pillow, flipped tothe current page,anddowngraded fromDESPERATE TOMEDIOCRE ."Hey, that's great!" Momsaid, looking overmyshoulder.

"No,"Isaid, "it'smediocre.

Andplease don'tsnoop." Sherubbed mychest, whichwasnice, although Ihad toturn alittle soshe wouldn't feelthat Istill had mykey on,and that there weretwokeys. "Mom?" "Yes.""Nothing." "What isit, baby?" "Wellit'sjust that wouldn't itbe great ifmattresses hadspaces foryour arm, sothat when yourolled onto yourside, youcould fitjust right?" "Thatwould benice." "Andgood foryour back, probably, becauseitwould let your spine bestraight, whichIknow isimportant." "Thatisimportant." "Also,itwould makesnuggling easier.Youknow how thatarmconstantly getsinthe way?" "Ido." "And making snuggling easierisimportant." "Very." MEDIOCRE OPTIMISTIC, BUTREALISTIC "I miss Dad." "SodoI.""Do you?" "Ofcourse Ido." "But doyou really?' " "How couldyouaskthat?" "It'sjustthat you don't actlike you miss himvery much." "Whatareyou talking about?" "Ithink youknow whatI'mtalking about." "I don't." "Ihear youlaughing." "Youhearmelaughing?" "Inthe living room.

WithRon." "Youthink because Ilaugh every now andthen Idon't missDad?" Irolled ontomyside, away fromher.

OPTIMISTIC, BUT REALISTIC EXTREMELY DEPRESSED She said, "Icry alot, too, youknow." "Idon't seeyou cryalot." "Maybe that'sbecause Idon't wantyoutosee mecrya lot." "Why not?""Because thatisn't fairtoeither ofus." "Yes itis." "Iwant ustomove on.""How much doyou cry?". »

↓↓↓ APERÇU DU DOCUMENT ↓↓↓

Prévisualisation du document exactly what to do.
Corrigés

Télécharger gratuitement ce document

Liens utiles

exactly what