Pale Fire: Illustrated Sports Illustrated Sports Pale Fire Journal | Page 46

make nice with me. I’m sure to anyone who asked she painted me the nosy,
grouchy neighbor.
Then came that horrible, horrible day. The day my father died. The police
will tell you I was there when it happened, and they would be right. I saw the
whole thing, though I couldn’t explain to you exactly who was at fault, if any-
one. All I remember is rushing into the house to rescue his story [7] , to hide it
somewhere I could find it later before anyone else could get to it. I was his son,
after all, and he’d promised to share it with me. It was only fair I be the first to
read it.
Now I avoid my mother at all costs. She’s mourning her husband, the last
person she’d want to see is me. I don’t much want to see her either. I miss my
father terribly, that much is sure. I don’t know whether as a father or as a friend,
but I miss him. Still, I know that no one is ever really gone. After all, even dead
things cast shadows.
[1]
“But then it is also true that Hazel Shade resembled me in certain re-
spects” (193).
[2]
“People have thought she tried to cross the lake / At Lochan Neck where zesty
skaters crossed / From Exe to Wye on days of special frost. / Others supposed
she might have lost her way / By turning left from Bridgeroad; and some say /
She took her poor young life” (50).
[3]
46
“I cannot describe the depths of my loneliness and distress” (95).