interlude
He wakes up at the computer, thought splintering back to the strangling crevasse of his sleep. "You were dreaming," says Mr. Shaw, "you still are."
No. He struggles upright in his chair and stares at the interview clips he filmed, swimming at first but then stable before his eyes. "Don't you ignore me," Shaw says, but he never tries to hit Harry anymore. Harry is free to say, in the solitude of his dorm room, "Shut up, dad," but he does not. Talking to one's self is not a habit of the successful man. He gets back to work, editing together splintered moments, good answers and bad, and Shaw is silent for many hours.
It's when he gets up that he realizes Mr. Shaw tidied while he slept: he made the bed, put some clothes in the hamper and hung some others up, and corrected an essay about the Roman senate. Harry should probably just be glad he didn't do the laundry, too. Or order a pizza. No, but he has control over things like that. Mr. Shaw can't leave the room or linger when other people are around. He's not allowed to do things to harm or embarrass Harry (or others), and he can't say " ". Shaw's silence now is accusatory. See what I do for you. I'd do more if you'd let me.
Ha ha. Right. Harry saves his progress and stretches. One thing he likes about the interviews is that he spends less time by himself. He's not ashamed to admit it. Maybe a little, but it has nothing to do with Shaw's sneer. He's doing what he thinks he should be doing. He's doing what he can to help the people who've helped him. There's nothing his dad can do to make him feel ashamed anymore, not now that he knows everything, or almost everything -- enough to know he shouldn't press too hard. MJ is right to look at him strangely. But all things considered, he's doing okay, and he's right to feel proud of it. Which he does. Of course he does.
No. He struggles upright in his chair and stares at the interview clips he filmed, swimming at first but then stable before his eyes. "Don't you ignore me," Shaw says, but he never tries to hit Harry anymore. Harry is free to say, in the solitude of his dorm room, "Shut up, dad," but he does not. Talking to one's self is not a habit of the successful man. He gets back to work, editing together splintered moments, good answers and bad, and Shaw is silent for many hours.
It's when he gets up that he realizes Mr. Shaw tidied while he slept: he made the bed, put some clothes in the hamper and hung some others up, and corrected an essay about the Roman senate. Harry should probably just be glad he didn't do the laundry, too. Or order a pizza. No, but he has control over things like that. Mr. Shaw can't leave the room or linger when other people are around. He's not allowed to do things to harm or embarrass Harry (or others), and he can't say " ". Shaw's silence now is accusatory. See what I do for you. I'd do more if you'd let me.
Ha ha. Right. Harry saves his progress and stretches. One thing he likes about the interviews is that he spends less time by himself. He's not ashamed to admit it. Maybe a little, but it has nothing to do with Shaw's sneer. He's doing what he thinks he should be doing. He's doing what he can to help the people who've helped him. There's nothing his dad can do to make him feel ashamed anymore, not now that he knows everything, or almost everything -- enough to know he shouldn't press too hard. MJ is right to look at him strangely. But all things considered, he's doing okay, and he's right to feel proud of it. Which he does. Of course he does.