"Molly Brown - Asleep At The Wheel" - читать интересную книгу автора (Brown Molly)

Asleep at the Wheel
a short story by Molly Brown

Carrie and Eric were dancing around the living room. Carrie didn't
remember the music starting. She didn't remember when or how they'd
started dancing. She didn't even remember coming back to her parents'
apartment. But there they were, slow-dancing by candlelight on the rug
between the sofa and the TV set, and it seemed to Carrie like they'd been
dancing forever. She rested her head on Eric's shoulder, closed her eyes,
and floated in lazy circles.
"Carrie," Eric said, holding her close against him. "There's something
we've got to talk about. Something I've been trying to tell you. Something
important."
His voice was so soft and quiet, she could hardly hear him; it seemed to
come from somewhere far away. "Hmm?" Carrie said, her eyes still closed.
Still floating.
"Do you remember the night you went to a concert with your friend Gina?"
Carrie stiffened, no longer floating.

She opened her eyes and sat up in bed, shaking.
She'd had a dream that had upset her, obviously. But she couldn't remember
what it was; it was gone. Completely gone. She'd been having a lot of
those lately: dreams that vanished without a trace except for the fact
that they left her wide-awake and shivering in the middle of the night.
She looked down at her husband, Jack, lying beside her with his mouth
open. Snoring like a tank engine. She'd never get back to sleep while that
was going on. She lightly pinched his nostrils together. He batted her
hand away and muttered something she couldn't hear. "You were snoring,"
Carrie told him. He rolled onto his side and went back to sleep.
Carrie lay watching the back of Jack's head, waiting for dawn.

"I had another dream last night," she told him over breakfast in the
morning. "Can't remember what it was about, though."
Jack stood up, gulping down the last of his coffee. "Gotta dash or I'll
miss my train."
Carrie looked up to see her teenage daughter from her first marriage,
Tanya, standing in the kitchen doorway.
Tanya didn't budge an inch to let her stepfather through - wouldn't even
look at him. Jack had to turn sideways in order to squeeze past her,
flashing an angry, disgusted look back at Carrie, the kind of look that
said: "This is your fault". Tanya just stared at the wall.
Carrie looked down at the table, gathered the breakfast things and carried
them to the sink, trying to drown the nagging voice inside her head with
the clatter of crockery and splash of soapy water.
Tanya didn't move until they both heard the front door slam closed. Then
she crossed the room to stand beside her mother. "I dream, too, you know,"
she announced. "I dream I'm dead. Sometimes I dream I was never born at
all, that I'm not even real, not even human."
Carrie stared into the sink. "Would you like some cereal?"
"You're not listening to me, are you?"