"Robert Reed - The Boy" - читать интересную книгу автора (Reed Robert)

doesnтАЩt begrudge them their successes. Not at all. They are good smart and decent
people, and each one deserves every opportunity that he has earned, or that he has
been given. No person journeys through life today without holding such a charitable
view toward the other half of her species. Helena believes. And she says what she
believes whenever the occasion demands it.
When sheтАЩs with her male work-friends, it seems as if they can chat about
anything, without taboos. Office gossip. Politics. Crude jokes, and insulting the old
religions. If handled with care, even romance and sex are viable topics. Helena likes
to believe that the men are pals and confidants, and that they genuinely trust her. She
definitely wants to feel worthy of their trust. But as with everything, there are limits.
Her closest friends are always women. Single, like her. Or dykes. Most with
children, while a few are involved in some kind of marriage. Sitting in the breakroom
with her girlfriends, or sharing a pitcher of beer after work, she hears herself
speaking out of a different part of her mind. With women, sheтАЩs more likely to use
questionable language. To speak frankly about sex. And on occasion mention God
and Christ without the modern scorn. Likewise men in the company of other men
have their own mores. More than once, Helena has eavesdropped on their
conversations. They can be the most modern, civilized creatures. Wealthy in their
own right, and educated, and loyal to their nation and their assorted families. Yet
despite all that, they forever carry a useful fatalism and a deep and abiding fear.
Centuries of slow reform have built this world, and its considerable freedoms. But in
their harsh jokes, they expose their real hearts. Everything they have won can vanish
again. Suddenly, without the pretense of fairness. Each time they mutter тАЬBitches,тАЭ
their ancient fierceness betrays itself. Even when their curses are dressed up in smiles
and laughter. One of them whispers, тАЬStupid cunt,тАЭ and thatтАЩs all it takes for them to
laugh together, happy beyond words, and the woman listening at the breakroom
door has no choice but to grimace, and shiver.
***
Yet this isnтАЩt the old world; the new freedoms lift everyone higher.
In this enormously prosperous society, a single woman has her own rich
opportunities, and risks, and the responsibilities that come with these blessings.
Helena has owned her little house for twelve years. With the bankтАЩs help and
approval, of course. She does all of the vacuuming and dusting. Whenever the urge
and energy strike, she redecorates one of her little rooms, and she does as she
pleases with her grass and gardens. No sisters or fellow disciples offer their poor
advice, or goodhearted criticism, or forbid what you so much want to do. Like that
weekend morning when Helena decided to paint her trim and her little garage. It was
her impulse. She was the one who drove to the paint store. She selected the bright
shade of blue and the ordinary white. Then she saved herself a small fortune by
doing the work herself.
Mostly.
Lydia had just moved into the neighborhood. She brought her daughter and an
older son, plus their father. Callan, the father, was a part-time presence. Home some
nights. Other nights, absent. He worked construction jobs and as a bartender and
sometimes a handyman for hire. He was a smiling, handsome fellow. A little short,
but not too short. Boyish in the face, but old around his dark eyes. The
consequence of being a smoker and a determined drunk, no doubt.
LydiaтАЩs property sits perpendicular to HelenaтАЩs backyard. It was a Saturday
afternoon, sunny and warm, and Helena was busily painting the backside of her
garage. Callan was standing behind the fence, making small talk while watching her