"Carrie Richardson - Sous La Mer" - читать интересную книгу автора (Richardson Carrie)

warmth of the sun, the smells of salt and pitch and fish guts, the rhythmic slap of
waves against pilings. If I closed my eyes I could pretend that I walked on the back
of some great live thing sunning itself and bobbing gently in the embrace of mother
ocean.

The sight at the end of one of the side piers burst my reverie. A deep-sea
fishing charter had just returned to port, and the triumphant client was posing for
pictures beside his catch, a blacktip shark fully as tall as he was. The dead thing
hung suspended on a huge hook through the tail muscle; a black cloud of flies
buzzed about its bloody maw where the teeth had been cut out for souvenirs. The
fisherman swilled beer, loudly related his preyтАЩs fierce struggle, and showed off a
vicious scratch on his arm received while landing the frenzied shark.

I felt sick, and turned away. By the time I made my way back to Suzanne and
Allan I had regained my composure. I leaned against a rafting and watched the two
of them. It was clear that Allan thought he had made a conquest. He squatted beside
SuzanneтАЩs wheelchair and helped her throw tidbits to the acrobatic gulls.

тАЬSome of my friends go to USM тАФ up in Hattiesburg, you know? Anyway, I
told them about you, how well you sing. They said the student entertainment
committee is always looking for singers to perform on campus. Why donтАЩt you give
them a call? My friends sure want to hear you.тАЭ

Suzanne shook her head. Pointing to the gulls overhead, she said,
тАЬHattiesburg is too far for my friends.тАЭ She and I traded a private smile. From the
comer of my eye I saw frustration flicker over AllanтАЩs face. My smile grew wider.

Allan tried to recover lost ground with an invitation to dinner. I willed Suzanne
to decline, but she accepted with delight. They flirted like schoolchildren throughout
the meal, laughing and touching hands, matching each other glass for glass as they
worked their way through two bottles of wine. When I refused a refill after my first
glass, Suzanne shot me an exasperated look, but I ignored it. My hard-drinking
youth ended on a patch of moon-drenched highway, to the sound of SuzanneтАЩs
screams. These days I practice restraint.

At the end of the evening Allan lifted Suzanne out of her wheelchair and
placed her in the car himself. For a moment she nestled her head against his chest.
Hormones tingled in the air, and I wondered if they would drive off and leave me
standing on the curb.

He didnтАЩt kiss her. Not yet. I beckoned him to join me at the rear bumper after
Suzanne and he had said their farewells and he had shut the car door. He was
flushed, prickly with the heat of his triumph, wary of my calm.

тАЬStay away from my sister, Allan.тАЭ There was a harsh edge to my voice, but I
didnтАЩt care what he thought.

My lack of subtlety surprised him. Then the testosterone kicked in, and he
leaned over me. тАЬYou donтАЩt control her, man! IтАЩll see Suzanne if she wants me to тАФ
and she does. You canтАЩt stop us!тАЭ