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

The young think all of life is a soap opera. I suppose if they live long enough
they learn otherwise. I slammed the car door harder than was necessary, getting
in. I love my sister dearly but sometimes I don't like her very much. Suzanne
and I didn't speak all the way home.

I HAD PREPARED a simple meal of ceviche and salad, accompanied by an elegant
chardonnay, for dinner; Suzanne and I ate on the terrace facing the sea as the
sunset. The day had been clear and hot; as the light faded a breeze began to
blow in off the water, dropping the temperature to something more tolerable.
While we dined a full moon rose like a bloody tear over the water. Down on the
shore the waves beat slowly, in time to my pulse.

We said little to each other over dinner. After so many years together our
conversation had become largely non-verbal. An eyebrow lifted at the immensity
of the rising moon, a silent nod at the silhouette of some late-soaring
waterbird, a fond smile, spoke volumes. Suzanne seemed more relaxed than usual,
thoughtful; several times I caught her staring blankly out over the sea, humming
something under her breath. When I cleared the table after supper she asked me
to leave her the bottle of wine and to bring her guitar and music notebook out
to her.

She played a few chords of the new song she was working on for me; the title was
"Sounding Sea." I tried to read for a while, but the moonlight and the distant
mutter of the surf made me restless. I put down the book and watched Suzanne,
pencil gripped between her teeth, as she picked out a line of melody, frowned
over it, repeated it with a slight variation, then grabbed the pencil and
recorded it. I didn't want my own restlessness to interfere with her
concentration.

"I think I'll take a walk down the shore. Can I get you anything before I go ?"

She shook her head absently. After a moment she noticed I was still there and
laughed. "Go on, take your walk, dear. I'll be fine. I've got everything I need
to keep me busy for hours."

I leaned over and kissed her hairline, right where the dark streak of her
widow's peak begins. My own pale locks have acquired a similar sprinkling of
dark hairs as I've grown older. Someday, when Suzanne and I are ancient, perhaps
we will have raven tresses and be the envy of all our acquaintances.

Our little princedom by the sea. Suzanne and I had chosen this house precisely
because, in defiance of tidal surge or hurricane, it sat so close to the water.
And it was isolated; my sister and I are private people. Now I picked my way
across a hundred yards of sand and shingle, and all the waters of the world
rolled to a stop at my feet.

The tide was coming in, bringing with it brown mats of seaweed, and, tangled in
the vegetation, thousands of the jellyfish known as Portuguese men-of-war. The
floats bobbed in the low swells, and as the waves retreated, the jellyfish were
stranded on the sands.