"Alice Hoffman - The Ice Queen" - читать интересную книгу автора (Hoffman Alice)
Toward the end of her illness, even my grandmother had to face sorrow. She cried in her sleep. I
couldnтАЩt stand to hear her suffering. I left the cat IтАЩd adopted to keep watch over her, curled up on the
hospital bed IтАЩd rented, and I went to stand outside, where I could breathe in the brackish air. It was
spring and there was pine pollen everywhere; things had turned a sulfury yellow. That night I wished
that my whole life had been different and that I could start all over again, in Paris or London, in Italy,
even across the river in New York City, where IтАЩd gone to school. I was still young. I wished I could
shed my skin, walk away, never look back. But starting a new life was not my expertise. Death was my
talent; before I could stop myself, I wished my grand-motherтАЩs pain would end. I wished that this world
would no longer have a hold on her.
She died that night while I was sleeping on the couch. The cat was beside her, and when I heard Giselle
mewling, I knew what had happened. My brother didnтАЩt come up to New Jersey until several days after
our grandmotherтАЩs passing; the funeral had to wait because it was exam week at Orlon University. Ned
realized what was happening to me as soon as he walked in the house. I was like a bird that had been let
out of its cage only to ?nd it could go no farther than the windowsill. All those years of planning my
escape from New Jersey, and now I couldnтАЩt even leave the living room. IтАЩd pretty much stopped eating,
aside from corn?akes and milk, which was the only thing I could keep down. I hadnтАЩt showered and I
gave off a faint odor of mildew, the scent of the ruined and the lost. I had called in to the library to let
them know I wouldnтАЩt be coming back. The reference desk was too much for me. Everything was. Jack
sent me a sympathy note on police stationery; he wrote that he missed me, more than heтАЩd ever expected
to, and was hopeful I would soon return to my desk. But that wasnтАЩt about to happen. I could barely a
reason to get dressed, let alone meaningless research questions or have sex with someone I didnтАЩt care
about in the backseat of his car. Sometimes I simply stayed in my bathrobe. I had lost the will to wash
My brother and I hadnтАЩt had a real conversation in years. Too busy, lives too far apart. But after the
funeral he sat beside me on the couch. He was allergic to cats, just as I was, and his eyes had already
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The Ice Queen
begun to water because of Giselle.
is not going to do you any good,тАЭ Ned told me. canтАЩt stay here.тАЭ
Logical still, as if it mattered. Logical then, as well. I thought of the morning of my motherтАЩs death;
before my grandmother had arrived, IтАЩd wandered out in my pajamas and saw him in the kitchen. I think
he might have been cleaning up. He was orderly even then. ItтАЩs too early, Ned had told me. Go back to
bed. I did exactly that. Two days later weтАЩd sat together, side by side on folding chairs at my motherтАЩs
funeral, held at the gravesite. A few of my motherтАЩs friends were there, all in black dresses. Ned wore a
black suit, borrowed probably. IтАЩd never seen it before. I had a navy blue dress with a lace collar that IтАЩd
snipped off with the same shears IтАЩd used to cut my hair. There was a plain pine cof, closed. Still, IтАЩd
read enough fairy tales to know the dead were not necessarily gone. Our mother might have been asleep,
under a spell, ready to rap on the cof?n from within and beg, Let me out!
It could happen at any time. The sky was gray; there was ice on the ground. And then I saw that Ned
was crying. He was quiet about it. He didnтАЩt make a sound. I donтАЩt think IтАЩd ever seen him do that
before, so I quickly looked away. And then the cof looked different. Shut tight. Over and done.
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