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"This place is so nice,"Lolli said from the doorway. "Who lives like this?"
"No one," said Dave. "They hire cleaners maybe a decorator to fake their
life."
Val walked into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. There were boxes of
take-out, a few withered apples, and a carton of skim milk. She took a bite of
the fruit. It was brown and mealy on the inside but still sweet. She couldn't
understand why she'd never eaten a brown apple before.
Lollipicked up the bottle of wine from the coffee table and swigged from it,
letting red juice run over her chin and cheeks.
Still eating the apple, Val walked to the couch where the woman sat numbly.
The lovely apartment, with its stylish furniture and happy family, reminded
Val of her dad's house. She didn't fit in here any more than she fit in there.
She was too angry, too troubled, too sloppy.
And how was she supposed to tell her dad what had happened with Tom and her
mom? It was like confessing to her father that she was bad in bed or
something. But not telling him just let his new wife label her as Lifetime
movie material, a troubled teen runaway in need of tough love. "See," Linda
would say. "She's just like her mother."
"You never liked me," she told the woman on the couch.
"Yes," the woman repeated robotically. "I never liked you."
Dave pushed the man into a chair and turned toLolli . "We could just make
them leave," he said. "It would be so easy. We could live here."
Lollisat down next to the little girl and plucked a ringlet of her dark hair.
"What you watching?"
The girl shrugged.
"Would you like to come and play with us?"
"Sure," the little girl said. "This show is boring."
"Let's start with dress-up,"Lolli said, leading the little girl into the back
room.
Val turned to the man. He looked docile and happy in his chair, his attention
wandering to the television.
"Where's your other daughter?" Val asked.
"I only have one," he said, with mild bafflement.
"You just want to forget about the other one. But she's still here."
"I have another daughter?"
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Val sat down on the arm of his chair and leaned in close, her voice dropping
to a whisper. "She's a symbol of the spectacular fuck-up that was your first
marriage. Every time you see how she is, you are reminded how old you are. She
makes you feel vaguely guilty, like maybe you should know what sport she plays
or what her best friend's name is. But you don't want to know those things. If
you knew those things, you couldn't forget about her."
"Hey," Dave said, holding up a bottle of cognac that was mostly full. "Luis
would like some of this."
Lolliwalked back into the room wearing a leather jacket the color of burnt
butter and a string of pearls. The little girl had a dozen glittering
rhinestone pins in her hair.
"Are you happy at least?" Val asked the woman.
"I don't know," said the woman.
"How can you not know?" Val shouted. She picked up a chair and threw it at
the television. The screen cracked and everyone jumped. "Are you happy?"
"I don't know," the woman said.
Val tipped over a bookcase, making the little girl scream. There were shouts
outside the door.
Dave started laughing.
The light from the chandelier reflected in the crystals, sending shining
sparks to glitter along the walls and ceilings. "Let's go," Val said. "They
don't know anything."
The kitten wailed and wailed, pawing atLolli with sharp little nails, jumping
on her with its soft little body. "Shut up, Polly," she mumbled, rolling over
and pulling the heavy blanket over her head.
"Maybe she's bored," Val said drowsily.
"It's hungry," Luis said. "Fucking feed it already."
Yowling, Polly jumped ontoLolli's shifting back, batting at her hair.
"Get off me,"Lolli told the cat. "Go kill some rats. You're old enough to be
on your own."
A shriek of metal grinding against metal and a dim light signaled the
approach of a train. The rumbling drowned out the sound of the cat's cries.
At the last moment, as the whole platform was flooded with light,Lolli shoved
Polly onto the tracks, right in front of the train. Val jumped up, but it was
too late. The cat was gone and the metal body of the train thundered past.
"What the fuck did you do that for?" Luis shouted.
"She always pissed on everything anyway,"Lolli said, curling up into a ball
and closing her eyes.
Val looked over at Luis, but he just looked away.
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AfterRavus was satisfied with her stance, he taught her one move and made her
repeat it until her limbs ached and she was convinced he thought she was
stupid, until she was sure that he didn't know how to teach anyone anything.
He taught her each move until it was automatic, as much a habit as biting the
skin around her fingernails or the needle she shoved in her arm.
"Exhale," he shouted. "Time your exhalation to your strike."
She nodded and tried to remember to do it, tried to do everything.
Val liked Dumpster-diving with Sketchy Dave, liked walking through the
streets, enjoyed the hunt and the occasional amazing find like the stack of
quilted blankets with silver lining that movers used to pad furniture, found
piled up near a Dumpster, and that kept the four of them warm as mice even as
November wore on or the cool old rotary dial phone that someone paid ten bucks
for. Most of the time, though, they were too dazed with Never to manage to
make the old rounds. It was easier to take what they wanted anyway. All they
had to do was ask.
A watch. A camera. A gold ring.
Those things sold better than a bunch of old crap anyway.
Then, finally,Ravus let her begin to put the moves together and spar.Ravus's
longer arms put him at a continual advantage, but he didn't need it. He was
pitiless, broomstick knocking her to the ground, driving her back against the
walls, knocking over his own table when she tried to put it between them.
Instinct and years of sports combined with desperation to let her get an
occasional blow in.
When her stick struck his thigh, it was great to see the look on his face,
rage that changed to surprise and then to pleasure in the space of a moment.
Backing off, they began again, circling each other.Ravus feigned and Val
parried, but as she did, the room began to spin. She slumped against the wall.
His stick slammed into her other side. Pain made her gasp.
"What's wrong with you?" he shouted. "Why didn't you block the blow?"
Val forced herself to stand upright, digging her fingernails into her palm
and biting the inside of her cheek. She was still dizzy, but she thought she
might be able to pretend she wasn't. "I don't know& My head."
Ravusswung the broomstick against the wall, splintering the wood and
scratching the stone.
Dropping the remains of his stick, he turned back to her, black eyes hot as
steel in a forge. "You should have never asked me to teach you! I can't
restrain my blows. You'll be hurt by my hand."
She took an unsteady step back, watching the remains of the stick swim in her
vision.
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He took a deep, shuddering breath that seemed to calm him. "It might be the
magic in the room that unbalanced you. I can often smell it on you, on your
skin, in your hair. You're around it too much, perhaps."
Val shook her head and lifted her stick, assuming a starting position. "I'm
okay now."
He looked at her, his face intense. "Is it the glamour that is making you
weak or is it whatever you're doing out there on the street?"
"It doesn't matter," she said. "I want to fight."
"When I was a child," he said, making no move to change his stance, "my
mother taught me how to fight with my hands before she let me use any kind of
weapon. She and my brothers and sisters would beat me with brush, would pelt
me with snow and ice until I fell into a rage and attacked. Pain was no
excuse, nor illness. It was all supposed to feed my fury."
"I'm not making excuses."
"No, no,"Ravus said. "That's not what I meant. Sit down. Fury doesn't make [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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