"Kathe Koja - By the Mirror of My Youth" - читать интересную книгу автора (Koja Kathe)

yourself?тАЭ

Who else will, she wanted to say, but that was as petty as it sounded and
anyway they were there, the low shiny lines of the clinic before them, as cool and
precious as mercury in the manicured drifts of the grounds. The circular driveway
looked as if it had been literally swept clean. She pulled the Toyota right up to the
entrance, as if it were a nice hotel with a nice doorman who would see to it that the
car was safely parked. Her hand on the heavy glass door, warm as honey even
through her shabby glove, her frozen skin, did they even heat the glass? No
discomfort here, she thoughtтАФ royal-blue carpet, pink marble glint of the
receptionistтАЩs deskтАФheated glass and heated floors, only the client left cold. It made
her smile, and she kept the smile to give to the receptionist. There was no point in
taking it out on him.

But the receptionistтАЩs smile, heavy lips, bright teeth, was all for Raymond:
тАЬGood afternoon, Mr. Pope,тАЭ not presuming to offer his hand until Ray offered his,
then accepting it in a flurried, flattered grasp, oh God if she had seen it once she had
seen it a million times. If he said anything about Brain Fevre she would vomit on the
spot.

тАЬItтАЩs an honor to have you here,тАЭ the receptionist said тАЩ

тАЬThank you,тАЭ Raymond said.

тАЬDr. Christensen is waiting for you. Will you come this way, please?тАЭ

Rachel followed, silent, silent in the warm office, thinking not of what was to
come or even of their, no, her first visit here, the papers and papers to sign, the
needles and the sharp lights, but of a day when Raymond had sat, slumped and
sorry before his terminal, the monitor screen bright and crazed with the germinus of
what would become Brain Fevre, saying, тАЬIt isnтАЩt any good. It isnтАЩt working.тАЭ
Fingers restless on the keys, toying with Delete.

тАЬItтАЩs going to.тАЭ Her hands, not on his shouldersтАФthey had already got past
thatтАФbut on the green slope of his swivel chair, unconsciously kneading the leather,
the padding beneath like flesh under skin. тАЬJust sweat it out, Ray. You can do that.тАЭ

And he, lips skinned back like Benjamin who lay beneath his feet, тАЬWhat the
hell would you know about it?тАЭ and the echo of BenjaminтАЩs mimicking growl.
Benjamin had loved Ray like a, like a dog, though of course Rachel had been the one
to care for him, fill his dishes and let him in and out and drive him to the vet for the
interminable shots that prolonged his painful life, drive him too for the last shot that
set him free, that set Raymond breaking casseroles and cups in the kitchen when she
came home alone тАЩ
тАЬWhy didnтАЩt you tell me?тАЭ weeping in his rage, and she, still able to be
surprised, protesting that she had told him, had begged him to come with her, to be
with Benjamin at the end, and he had taken her WorldтАЩs Fair mug, her sisterтАЩs mug,
and standing poised like Thor before the porcelain sinkтАФ

тАЬMrs. Pope?тАЭ