"Murphy, Pat - Departure" - читать интересную книгу автора (Murphy Pat)

"All right," she said. "Tonight."

"I've changed since you left me," she told him over dinner. He didn't seem to
understand. He seemed clumsier than she remembered him, more awkward.

One thing led to another: dinner to drinks, drinks to her borrowed apartment. He
came up for a nightcap. She hoped that he would not look in the kitchen trash
where the body of the cat still lay, curled as if asleep.

The bed creaked beneath their weight as they made love. She noticed, as he
kissed her, that she did not like the way he smelled. His hair and skin smelled
of soap and skin lotion, a sweet clean scent that she found disturbing. His skin
was too smooth, too clean.

Dennis was asleep when the moon rose, but Jan lay awake. She knew that the moon
was rising, she knew it even before the howling began. Her husband slept beside
her, his breathing steady and undisturbed. The air in the apartment was stuffy
-- warm and stinking of cats. The distant howling touched her with urgency.

She slipped from the bed silently and opened the curtain to let in the light.
"I'm leaving," she said softly, but Dennis' soft breathing did not change.

She opened the window and stepped out onto the fire escape. She was naked. Her
bare feet melted the snow that had settled on the metal platform. The metal was
cold against her feet, the air icy on her bare skin, but these were distant
pains, like something that had happened long ago. Deep within her, she could
feel a change -- a shift in allegiance, a trade of light for dark. This, she was
certain, was what she had been waiting for all along.

The wolves came from the shadows and the moonlight caught in their silver fur.
They sat in a circle, looking up at her expectantly. She knew that they were
waiting for her to join them.

On the fire escape's last landing, she hesitated, suddenly noticing the gold
wedding band on her hand. She took it off and left it balanced on the metal
railing. Quietly, without hurrying, she descended to the street. The falling
snow filled in the marks of her bare feet.