"Goonan, Kathleen Ann - The String" - читать интересную книгу автора (Goonan Kathleen Ann)

about--about wanting to leave you. But now--"
"What about Jessica?" he whispered, because he couldn't make his voice any
louder. He was filled with fear, he realized, not just because she was leaving
but because she might take Jessica with her. Anita sat down on the couch. "I've
thought about it a lot. I've read a lot too, Dan. It's not just me. It's hard on
everyone who has a child with a disability. You've done all the work of raising
her because I've been so afraid of getting close and then losing her. She
doesn't need me like she needs you."
"She does!" he said.
"She doesn't and you know it. She needs to live here, because she has to be
close to the University. I'm not thinking about anything drastic, really. I just
want to move to Boston so I can concentrate on this project. I know it's kind of
abstract to you, but I think I can make a real difference in the field. So many
new things are happening in architecture. I want to be part of it."
"I know," he said as gently as he could.
She stood and looked at him very directly. "I still want to be a part of
Jessica's life."
Just not yours.
He knew now what to say. But he had to say something.
"Don't worry," he said. "We'll work something out. I think this is the best
thing, for now, anyway." He hoped she couldn't see how his heart ached. But at
least Jessica would be here. He could manage.
"Then it's settled," she said.
Is that all? he thought, as supper preparations brought them together, as they
had for eight years. He realized that, oddly enough, it was.
Frank cheered him that night by dropping by, his step light once more. "They
kept calling me every day, even the kids got on the phone to tell me that they
missed me. God, I'm glad to be back there. It's great to be needed."
And every night, Dan bent over the string without even thinking of ever
unravelling it. One straight piece of string, forever tangled. The pain he felt
from Anita leaving was still just as strong, but oddly enough, it helped to
channel it into the string. It seemed to give off a cool, bright energy, when
the house was quiet, and he didn't have to think about how empty the future
would seem without her sharp energy, her presence at her CAD every night, even
her chiding tongue. He had to let her go.
#

They spent the next week dividing things up. Dan helped her pack. She didn't
take much, but went through all the drawers and cupboards. "I'll need these
pots," she'd say, and he'd say, "Take them." It was like that with everything.
On the last evening she was to be there, the scent of the blossoming snowball
bushes his mother had planted wafted in the window.
Anita and Jessica had both gone to bed. He reached up on the shelf, but felt no
string. He hoisted himself up on the counter and, kneeling, peered at the empty
shelf. Nothing.
Heart beating hard, he looked at all the knickknack shelves on both sides of the
window over the sink. He saw that Anita had taken his mother's little
horses--well, that was all right. He moved planters and statues that had been
there since he was a kid--some of them even stuck to the ancient, dusty wood.
Nothing.