Page 151 - A Little Life: A Novel

unaware he had seen anything at all. And then Luke winked at him again,
and for some reason this calmed him, and he came back to himself, and said
his lines and sat down, and dinner passed without incident.

And now there were these flowers. But before he could think about what
they might mean, the door opened, and there was Brother Peter, and he
stood, waiting in that terrible moment that he could never prepare for, in
which anything might happen, and anything might come.
The next day, he had left directly after his classes for the greenhouse,
determined that he should say something to Luke. But as he drew closer, his
resolve deserted him, and he dawdled, kicking at small stones and kneeling

to pick up and then discard twigs, throwing them toward the forest that
bordered the property. What, really, did he mean to say? He was about to
turn back, to retreat toward a particular tree on the north edge of the
grounds in whose cleft of roots he had dug a hole and begun a new
collection of things—though these things were only objects he had
discovered in the woods and were safely nobody’s: little rocks; a branch

that was shaped a bit like a lean dog in mid-leap—and where he spent most
of his free time, unearthing his possessions and holding them in his hands,
when he heard someone say his name and turned and saw it was Luke,
holding his hand up in greeting and walking toward him.
“I thought it was you,” Brother Luke said as he neared him
(disingenuously, it would occur to him much later, for who else would it
have been? He was the only child at the monastery), and although he tried,

he was unable to find the words to apologize to Luke, unable in truth to find
the words for anything, and instead he found himself crying. He was never
embarrassed when he cried, but in this moment he was, and he turned away
from Brother Luke and held the back of his scarred hand before his eyes.
He was suddenly aware of how hungry he was, and how it was only
Thursday afternoon, and he wouldn’t have anything to eat until the next

day.
“Well,” said Luke, and he could feel the brother kneeling, very close to
him. “Don’t cry; don’t cry.” But his voice was so gentle, and he cried
harder.
Then Brother Luke stood, and when he spoke next, his voice was jollier.
“Jude, listen,” he said. “I have something to show you. Come with me,” and
he started walking toward the greenhouse, turning around to make sure he

was following. “Jude,” he called again, “come with me,” and he, curious