"Nancy Kress - Stalking Beans" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kress Nancy) Stalking Beans
Nancy Kress SOMETIMES I TRY TO MAKE MY WIFE ANGRY. I CLUMP in from the dairy in boots fouled by cow dung; I let the hearth fire die; I spill greasy mutton on the fresh cloth Annie insists on laying each night as if we were still gentry and not the peasants we have become. I wipe my nose with the back of my hand, in imitation of our neighbors. I get drunk at the alehouse. I stay away all night. It's like fighting a pillow. All give, and feathers everywhere. Annie's pretty face flutters into wispy dismay, followed by wispy forgiveness. "Oh, Jack, I understand!" she cries and falls on my neck, her curlsтАФ that but for me would be bound in a fashionable coifтАФ filling my mouth. "I know how hard our fall in the world is for you!" Never a word about how hard it is for her. Never a word of anger. Never the accusation, You are to blame. Always, she invites me to sink into her understanding, to lie muffled in it as in the soft beds we once owned, to be soundlessly absorbed. Sometimes it takes every fiber of my muscles not to hit her. Only when, drunk, I traded our best cow to a dwarf for a sack of beans did Annie show a flash of the anger she should feel by right. "YouтАж didтАж what?" she said, very body relaxed for one glorious moment into anger. I took a step toward her and Annie, misunderstanding, cried, "Keep away from me!" She looked wildly around, and her eye fell on the shelf with our one remaining book, bound in red leather and edged with gold. She seized it and threw it at me. She missed. It fell into the fire, and the dry pages blazed with energy. But she couldn't make it last. A second later her shoulders drooped and she stared at the fire with stricken eyes. "Oh, JackтАФI'm sorry! The book was worth more than the cow!" Then she was on my neck, sobbing. "Oh, Jack, I understand, I do, I know your pride has been so badly injured by all this, I want to be a good wife to you and understandтАж" Her hair settled into my mouth, over my nose. Desperate, I said, "I cast away the beans in the forest, and vomited over them!" "Oh, Jack, I understand! It's not your fault! You couldn't help what happened!" What kind of man can never help what happens to him? I can't bring myself to touch her body, even by chance. When one of us rolls toward the center of the sagging mattress, I jerk away, as if touched by rot. In the darkest part of the night, when the fire has gone out, I hear her |
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