"Carol Emshwiller - I Live with You" - читать интересную книгу автора (Emshwiller Carol)

When you're home, I come down in the evening, stand in the hall and watch you watch TV.
I wash my hair with your shampoo. Once, when you came home early, I almost got caught in the shower.
I hid in the hall closet, huddled in with the sheets, and watched you find the wet towelтАФthe spilled
shampoo.

You get upset. You think: I've heard odd thumps for weeks. You think you're in danger, though you try
hard to talk yourself out of it. You tell yourself it's the cat, but you know it's not.

You get a lock for your bedroom doorтАФa deadbolt. You have to be inside to push it closed.

I have left a book open on the couch, the print of my head on the couch cushion. I've pulled out a few
gray hairs to leave there. I have left a half full wine glass on the counter. I have left your underwear
(which I wore) on the bathroom floor, dirty socks under the bed, a bra hanging on the towel rack. I left a
half-eaten pizza on the kitchen counter. (I ordered out and paid with your stash of quarters, though I
know where you keep your secret twenties.)

I set all your clocks back fifteen minutes but I set your alarm clock to four in the morning. I hid your
reading glasses. I pull buttons off your sweaters and put them where your quarters used to be. Your
quarters I put in your button box.

Normally I try not to bump and thump in the night, but I'm tired of your little life. At the book store and
grocery store at least things happened all day long. You keep watching the same TV programs. You go
off to work. You make enough money (I see the bank statements), but what do you do with it? I want to
change your life into something worth watching.

I begin to thump, bump, and groan and moan. (I've been feeling like groaning and moaning for a long
time, anyway.) Maybe I'll bring you a man.

I'll buy you new clothes and take away the old ones, so you'll have to wear the new ones. The new
clothes will be red and orange and with stripes and polka dots. When I get through with you, you'll be
real ... or at least realer. People will notice you.

Now you groan and sigh as much as I do. You think: This can't be happening. You think: What about the
funny sounds coming from the crawl space? You think: I don't dare go up there by myself, but who could
I get to go with me? (You don't have any friends that I know of. You're like me in that.)

Monday you go off to work wearing a fuzzy blue top and red leather pants. You had a hard time finding
a combination without stripes or big flowers or dots on it.

I watch you from your kitchen window. I'm heating up your leftover coffee. I'm making toast. (I use up all
the butter. You thought there was plenty for the next few days.)

You almost caught me the time I came home late with packages. I had to hide behind the curtains. I
could tell that my feet showed out the bottom, but you didn't notice.

Another time you saw me duck into the hall closet but you didn't dare open the door. You hurried
upstairs to your bedroom and pushed the deadbolt. That evening you didn't come down at all. You
skipped supper. I watched TV ... any show I wanted.

I put another deadbolt on the outside of your bedroom door. Just in case. It's way up high. I don't think