"Thomas M. Disch - On Wings Of Song" - читать интересную книгу автора (Disch Thomas M)

the operator asked if he would accept the call.
He said he would.
“Danny? Danny, is that you, love?” said a whinier voice than
the operator’s.
He wanted to say that no one ever called him Danny, but that
seemed unfriendly. He limited himself to an equivocal Uh.
“This is your mother, Danny.”
“Oh. Mother. Hi.” She still didn’t say anything. It was up to
him entirely. “How are you?”
She laughed and that seemed to deepen her voice. “Oh, I
could be worse.” She paused, and added, “But not a lot. Where is
your father, Danny? Can I talk to him?”
“He’s doing a filling.”
“Does he know I’m calling?”
“No, not yet.”
“Well, would you tell him? Tell him it’s Milly calling from
New York.”
He weighed the name on his tongue: “Milly.”
“Right. Milly. Short for… do you know?”
He thought. “Millicent?”
“God almighty, no. Mildred—isn’t that bad enough? Doesn’t
he ever talk about me?”
 He wasn’t trying to avoid her question. It was just that his
own seemed so much more important: “Are you coming here?”
“I don’t know. It depends for one thing on whether Abe
sends me the money. Do you want me to?”
Even though he wasn’t sure, it seemed required of him to say
that yes he did. But he’d hesitated, noticeably, so most of the credit
for saying the right thing was lost. She knew he was being polite.
“Danny, why don’t you go tell him I’m on the phone?” Her
voice was whiney again.
Daniel obeyed. As he’d known he would be, his father was
annoyed when Daniel appeared in the doorway. For a while he just
stood there. He didn’t want to say who it was out loud in front of
the patient in the chair, a fat farmwoman who was getting a crown
put on a left upper canine. He said, “There’s a phone call from
New York.”
His father still looked daggers. Did he understand?
“A woman,” Daniel added significantly. “She’s calling
collect.”
“You know better than to interrupt me, Daniel. Tell her to
wait.”
He went back to the switchboard. Another call was coming in.
He put it on Hold quickly, then said to his mother: “I told him. He
said to wait. He really can’t stop in the middle.”
“Well then I’ll wait.”
“There’s another call. I have to put you on Hold.”
She laughed again. It was a pleasant laugh. He foresaw,
though not in so many words, the necessity of keeping her in a
good humor. Assuming that she came to Amesville. So, almost