"Jane Yolen - Briar Rose" - читать интересную книгу автора (Yolen Jane)

get another ... another ... chance. Not before she . . . " She coul
bring herself to finish the sentence, as if death were too fi
punctuation. "Let's not go already."
"Already? It's three o'clock and still snowing and we'll hav
fight traffic soon." Sylvia held up her hand, the one with the w
as if that added force to her argument. She was clearly uncom
able, almost afraid.
 Briar Rose

23

"Traffic?"
"Oh, right, I forgot we're back in the boonies. No L.A. traffic
here, then. Or Houston." She looked meaningfully at Shana.
Shana leaned over and put her arm around Becca. "Listen, we
both know it's hardest on you and we're trying to make it easier,
at least for today. You're the one who does all the visiting after all."
"But Mama and Daddy . . ." Becca said loyally.
'We know who does the most visiting," Shana said. "Every-
one knows. So you don't have to try and share everything." She
looked over at Sylvia and shook her head, as if to warn her off.
"But Bec," Sylvia said, ignoring the warnings and tapping her
own head ominously.
"She is not crazy," Becca said, her voice rising to the old whine
she couldn't help when she was around her sisters too long.
"Not, not crazy. Not at all. Only she thinks-she believes-she once
lived in a castle! The true Belle au Bois Dormant " Sylvia's accent was
impeccable. She'd studied at the Sorbonne her junior year in college.
"The Sleeping Beauty in the Wood. A goddamned fairy tale prin-
cess, Becca. With a Yiddish accent. If she's not crazy believing it-you
are. Grow up, Becca. Shan and I have."
"It's not that," Becca said, trying to explain. "I mean, it's not that
I believe it. Or even that she does. It's like the story is
metaphor. . . ."
Sylvia snorted, the familiar bickering overcoming what lingering
grief she had felt. "A meddlefur, " she said, using the old baby word
the family favored. "Thank goodness you decided against graduate
school and stuck with that silly underground newspaper you work
for."

"It's not underground; it's alternative and .
"What's the difference," Sylvia said, turning away. "The left
vAng is the left wing whether it's above or below the dirt."
"You don't want to understand," Becca said, tears spilling down
her cheeks and making her feel years younger than twenty-three,
'41

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