"Lisa Tuttle - Ghosts and Other Lovers" - читать интересную книгу автора (Tuttle Lisa)

women? Perfection was unnatural. The body was a messy thing.

But not likethis . This mess was not natural. Thank God, it proved to be easily washed away. Calming
now that face and neck and hands were clean, Eustacia poured the last of the water into the bowl and
tried to judge if there was enough to wash her hair.

There was a knock at the door and before she could say anything to stop her, Mildred had entered.

тАЬAre you feeling better this morning? Ah!тАЭ Her sharp eyes saw something and the hidden worry on her
face was transformed in an instant to something else, to understanding. тАЬItтАЩs your sick time, of course.тАЭ

тАЬNoтАФтАЭ But before she could protest, Eustacia realized what she had been too preoccupied and
frightened to notice earlier. She felt the wetness between her legs, twisted around and saw what Mildred
had seen: the bloodstain on her gown, the unmistakable badge of her condition.
тАЬBut what are you doing up? YouтАЩll only make yourself ill. You want to keep warm. IтАЩll fetch some clean
towels. Now, into bed with you. IтАЩll tell Pa youтАЩre feeling poorly and wonтАЩt be down today. IтАЩll bring you
up some toast and tea, and build up the fire in here. Well? What are you waiting for?тАЭ

She made a gesture below her waist. тАЬI . . . have to clean myself.тАЭ

тАЬAll right. But be quick about it, donтАЩt be standing about in the cold . . . you know a womanтАЩs
constitution is at its weakest at these times.тАЭ

Left alone, Eustacia realized that Mildred had decided there was nothing seriously wrong with her. The
strangeness of hands exuding mucus had been redefined as a side effect of menstruation. No matter how
odd and unpleasant, because it was happening now, when she was bleeding, it was to be accepted as yet
another symptom of the female sickness.

She fashioned a toweling diaper for herself, put on a fresh nightgown, and got into bed. There was blood
on the sheets, but it had dried. Why change them now, when she would surely soil them again? With five
sisters she had seen how differently EveтАЩs Curse afflicted different women, even women with the same
parents and upbringing. She wondered: could Mildred be right?

But Mildred didnтАЩt know what she knewтАФthat her hands had been cold and damp, sweating this strange
substance not for just a day or two, but for more than a week.

A hand went to her head as she remembered. Tentative at first, then, frowning with surprise, she combed
her fingers through clean hair: not clotted, not matted, not sticky, not stiff. Clean.

She got up to find the hand-mirror, to let her eyes confirm what her fingers told her. She picked her dress
off the chair where she had hung it the previous night and examined the skirt. But although she
remembered how often she had wiped her wet, sticky hands there, now she could neither see nor feel
any trace of foreign matter. Her pocket handkerchief, too, was clean, although she could remember quite
vividly the horrid slimy ball sheтАЩd made of it.

All gone now. Gone to nothing. Was it over?

She pressed her fingertips against her cheeks and brushed them against her lips. They felt cold and ever
so slightly damp.