MORNING SERIAL
“WHAT do you hope all this is going to do?” I said.
“It is going to show me where my son is,” he said. “I know the answer is in here somewhere.” He tapped his temple with his forefinger, but he also meant that the answer was in this wood. He was creating an internal world.
I looked around at the canvases hanging from the trees – I now also had a strong sense that Francis was truly in on this, even if he had never asked as many questions as me. I still believed that Illie was mad, but now I wondered if he thought it too – that he could find the child he so callously abandoned by mapping out his dream images in this dark wood. Nobody could fail to see this for what it was – a desperate act by a man terrified he had led his life, soon to pass, immorally.
“Is Tara aware of all this?” I said gesturing at the paintings.
“I have tried to stay away from her,” he said. “I did not wish to drag things up for her. But I feel Furkan will have answers.”
“So why not just go up to Furkan and ask him? Why are you bothered now about Tara’s feelings?”
“Furkan will not speak to me unless Tara tells him to.”
“And what do you hope to get from him?”
Illie kicked his toe into the dirt and thought for a moment. “Everybody knows the Golden Orphans know more than they let on. They have contact with those who were left behind. And they know more things about the secrets of this island than anybody will dare admit. Why do you think they are regarded here the way they are?” He leaned forward in the chair and spoke in a low voice. “I know my son is alive somewhere on this island. And I know I can find him.”
I looked around once more and wondered just how this could possibly end. “So you sit here?” I said.
“The answer is in here somewhere,” he said. “It just has to be done right. Every night I walk in my sleep through this island, through its secrets, and I see my son, and I speak to him, and I make amends, and we are good with each other. And every morning I awake and all I can see is this red swing in this dark night.”