"David Gerrold - The Martian Child" - читать интересную книгу автора (Gerrold David)

At that moment, I realized that there wasn't anyone in the room who had the kind of commitment to
Dennis that I did, and I hadn't even met him yet. To them, he was only another case to handle. To me, he
was ... the possibility of a family. It wasn't fair to unload my frustration on these tired, overworked,
underpaid women. They cared. It just wasn't the same kind of caring. I swallowed my anger.

"Listen," I said, sitting forward, placing my hands calmly and deliberately on the table. "After everything
this poor little guy has been through, if he wants to think he's a Martian -- I'm not going to argue with
him. Actually, I think it's charming. It's evidence of his resilience. It's probably the most rational
explanation he can come up with for his irrational situation. He probably feels alienated, abandoned,
different, alone. At least, this gives him a reason for it. It lets him put a story around his situation so he can
cope with it. Maybe it's the wrong explanation, but it's the only one he's got. We'd be stupid to try to
take it away from him."

And after I'd said that, I couldn't help but add another thought as well. "I know a lot of people who hide
out in fantasy because reality is too hard to cope with. Fantasy is my business. The only different is that I
write it down and make the rest of the world pay for the privilege of sharing the delusion. Fantasy isn't
about escape; it's a survival mechanism. It's a way to deal with things that are so much bigger than you
are. So I think fantasy is special, something to be cherished and protected because it's a very fragile thing
and without it, we're so defenseless, we're paralyzed.

"I know what this boy is feeling because I've been there. Not the same circumstances, thank God -- but
I know this much, if he's surrounded by adults who can't understand what he really needs, he'll never
have that chance to connect that everyone keeps talking about." For the first time I looked directly into
their eyes as if they had to live up to my standards. "Excuse me for being presumptuous -- but he's got to
he with someone who'll tell him that it's all right for him to be a Martian. Let him be a Martian for as long
as he needs."

"Yes. Thank you," the supervisor said abruptly. "I think that's everything we need to cover. We'll be
getting back to you shortly."

My heart sank at her words. She hadn't acknowledged a word of what I'd said. I was certain she'd
dismissed it totally. I gathered up all my papers. We exchanged pleasantries and handshakes, and I wore
my company smile all the way to the elevator. I didn't say a word, neither did my sister. We both waited
until we were in the car and headed back toward the Hollywood Freeway. She drove, guiding the big car
through traffic as effortlessly as only a Los Angeles real estate agent can manage.

"I blew it," I said. "Didn't I? I got too ... full of myself again."

"Honey, I think you were fine." She patted my hand.

"They're not going to make the match," I said. "It would be a single parent adoption. They're not going to
do it. First they choose married couples, Ward and June. Then they choose single women, Murphy
Brown. Then, only if there's no one else who'll take the kid, will they consider a single man. I'm at the
bottom of the list. I'll never get this kid. I'll never get any kid. My own caseworker told me not to get my
hopes up. There are two other families interested. This was just a formality, this interview. I know it. Just
so they could prove they'd considered more than one match." I felt the frustration building up inside my
chest like a balloon full of hurt. "But this is the kid for me, Alice, I know it. I don't know how I know it,
but I do."

I'd first seen Dennis's picture three weeks earlier; a little square of colors that suggested a smile in flight.