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“perevedi na literaturnyi russkii iazyk: He nodded, further underlining the resol” (1 conversations)
toxic
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Feb 21, 2024 at 10:31 AM MSK
Russia
USER
perevedi na literaturnyi russkii iazyk: He nodded, further underlining the resolution. Her fingers unclasped and formed themselves into balled fists. Without realizing, his own had done the same. They seemed to be feeling each other's anger. "The bottom line is that neither of us knew a damned thing. Nothing." "Where do you suppose they were going?" She looked at him, her lashes fluttering nervously. "Does it matter?" "No, I suppose not." "Four days, she told me." "Paris by Concorde and back." "That's where he said he was going?" She nodded. "What lies. What horrible lies." This time his voice rose and a number of customers turned around. "Maybe we should leave it alone," she said, pushing the coffee cup toward the center of the table. "If we go over and over it like this, it can't be good for us. I have a child to worry about. His child," she added, her eyes narrowing. "You?" "No children." He supposed he should be thankful for that. With the thought came another realization. He would not have a living memory to remind him always of her. His stomach tightened. Her betrayal! "Someday my son will ask me exactly how his daddy died," she said. "What have you told him?" The question seemed an intrusion. "That he went to heaven." She flashed an empty smile. "Heaven. That's a gas." "When he's old enough he'll find out the truth; then he'll probably blame me for being inadequate." "So don't tell him. Keep the secret." It struck him that the "secret" had become a kind of bond between them, like two independent witnesses to a murder. "Maybe. It's too early to think about that," she sighed. Too early to think about anything, he supposed, confronting the tangle of his own thoughts and emotions. "Dammit," he said sharply, compelled to describe his state. "My mind is repelled by what I feel." Her eyes suddenly widened. "Yes. That's exactly it." She paused and nodded her head. "Yes. Are we supposed to be demolished by grief? I feel nothing like that. Shouldn't we be forgiving, tolerant, understanding? After all, hasn't the punishment fit the crime? Where is our compassion? I don't know about you, but all I feel is..." Her voice quivered, and the muscles of her neck worked to hold back hysteria.
CHATBOT
On kivnul, tem samym podcherkivaia svoiu reshimost'. Ee pal'tsy razzhalis' i szhalis' v kulaki. Ne osoznavaia etogo, ego ruki sdelali to zhe samoe. Kazalos', chto oni chuvstvuiut gnev drug druga. "Sut' v tom, chto my oba voobshche nichego ne znali. Sovsem nichego." "Kuda, po-vashemu, oni sobiralis'?" - Ona posmotrela na nego, ee resnitsy nervno zatrepetali. "Imeet li eto znachenie?" "Navernoe, net." "Chetyre dnia, - skazala ona mne." "Parizh, Konkordom tuda i obratno." "Imenno eto on i skazal, kuda sobiralsia?" Ona kivnula. "Kakie lzhi. Kakie uzhasnye lzhi." Na etot raz ego golos podnialsia, i neskol'ko posetitelei obernulis'. "Mozhet stoit brosit' eto," - skazala ona, otodvigaia chashku kofe k tsentru stola. "Esli my budem vsio eto perebirat' takim obrazom, eto ne mozhet prinesti nam pol'zy. U menia est' rebionok, o kotorom nuzhno bespokoit'sia. Ego rebionok," - dobavila ona, suzhaia glaza. "A u vas?" "Net detei." On podumal, chto dolzhen byt' blagodaren khotia by za eto. S etoi mysl'iu prishlo eshche odno osoznanie. U nego ne budet zhivoi pamiati, kotoraia vsegda napominala by emu o nei. Ego zheludok szhalsia. Eio predatel'stvo! "Odnazhdy moi syn sprosit menia, kak ego papa umer," - skazala ona. "Chto vy emu skazali?" Vopros pokazalsia vtorzheniem. "Chto on ushiol na nebesa." Ona ulybnulas' pustoi ulybkoi. "Nebesa. Da uzh, zabavno." "Kogda on stanet starshe, on uznaet pravdu, a potom, veroiatno, obvinit menia v nedostatochnosti." "Tak ne govorite emu. Sokhranite v taine." Emu otkrylos', chto "sekret" stal svoego roda sviaz'iu mezhdu nimi, kak mezhdu dvumia nezavisimymi svideteliami ubiistva. "Mozhet byt'. Slishkom rano dumat' ob etom," - vzdokhnula ona. Slishkom rano dumat' o chem-libo, podumal on, stalkivaias' s klubkom sobstvennykh myslei i emotsii. "Chiort," - rezko skazal on, pytaias' opisat' svoe sostoianie. "Moi razum ottalkivaet to, chto ia chuvstvuiu." Ee glaza vdrug rasshirilis'. "Da. Imenno eto." Ona zamolchala i kivnula. "Da. Razve my dolzhny byt' razrusheny gorem? Ia nichego podobnogo ne chuvstvuiu. Ne dolzhny li my byt' proshchaiushchimi, terpimymi, ponimaiushchimi? V kontse kontsov, razve nakazanie ne sootvetstvuet prestupleniiu? Gde nashe sostradanie? Ne znaiu, kak vy, no vse, chto ia chuvstvuiu, - eto..." Ee golos drognul, i myshtsy ee shei napriaglis', chtoby sderzhat' isteriku.
USER
eshche: "Anger?" he offered. "More than that. I feel so much..." He waited, sure she would say what he himself felt. "Hatred," she gasped. "And I hate myself for feeling it. But I just can't help it. They had no right..." "I know," he said gently. He moved one hand and put it over her stillballed fist. "Who the hell but us would understand that?" She nodded, then removed her hand from his and brushed away a tear. His mind drifted. Again he thought of the impending ordeal in Baltimore. "I hope I don't blast it out to my in-laws. They think of Lily like her name--white and pure." A low chuckle rose from his throat. It was the one weapon against her family that he was holding in reserve. If they pressed him too hard, he would take that arrow from his quiver. "I hope you will resist that," she said with sudden panic, as though he had taken an oath of secrecy. "I'll try," he said sincerely, knowing it was not going to be easy. "It's that other fellow that worries me. Not the cop. The man from the airlines," she said. "Do you think he knows?" "Probably. I thought about that. I don't think the airlines would let it out deliberately. If he says something, it will probably be later. A cocktail party joke." "I'll never forgive them for that as well. Making our lives a filthy joke." "Some joke." He shrugged. "Mr. and Mrs. Calvin Marlboro." "Very funny." "What a mockery it makes of us." "People will split their sides." "I couldn't bear it," she said. "Let's hope we don't have to." "According to Dale, we'll be getting lots of compensation." "I hadn't thought about that." "I have. I won't touch a cent of it. Not a cent of that dirty money." Flush spots suddenly appeared on her cheeks. "Maybe it's still too early to make that kind of decision," he said cautiously. "Not for me," she muttered. She seemed to be fading. Her brief animation dissipated. "I'd better go," she said.
CHATBOT
"Zlost'?" - predpolozhil on. "Bol'she chem eto. Ia chuvstvuiu tak mnogo..." On zhdal, uverennyi, chto ona skazhet to, chto chuvstvuet i on sam. "Nenavist'," - vydokhnula ona. "I ia nenavizhu sebia za to, chto eto chuvstvuiu. No ia prosto ne mogu s etim spravit'sia. U nikh ne bylo prava..." "Ia znaiu," - skazal on nezhno. On podvinul ruku i polozhil eio na vse eshche szhatyi v kulak eio kulak. "Kto, krome nas, poimet eto?" Ona kivnula, zatem ubrala svoiu ruku iz-pod ego i otterla slezu. Ego mysli otvleklis'. On vnov' podumal o nadvigaiushchemsia ispytanii v Baltimore. "Ia nadeius', chto ne vyl'iu eto na moikh rodstvennikov. Oni dumaiut o Lili, kak o eio imeni - chistoi i nevinnoi." S ego gorla vyrvalsia nizkii khokhot. Eto bylo edinstvennoe oruzhie protiv eio sem'i, kotorym on derzhal v zapase. Esli oni budut slishkom davit' na nego, on vytashchit etu strelu iz svoego kolchana. "Ia nadeius', vy ustoite," - skazala ona s vnezapnoi panikoi, slovno on dal kliatvu sokhraniat' sekret. "Ia postaraius'," - iskrenne skazal on, znaia, chto eto ne budet legko. "Menia bespokoit etot drugoi chelovek. Ne politseiskii. Chelovek iz aviakompanii," - skazala ona. "Vy dumaete, on v kurse?" "Vozmozhno. Ia ob etom dumal. Ne dumaiu, chto aviakompaniia namerenno eto raskroet. Esli on chto-to skazhet, eto budet pozzhe. Shutka na kokteil'noi vecherinke." "Ia takzhe nikogda im ne prostliu za to, chto sdelali nashu zhizn' griaznoi shutkoi." "Kakaia shutka." On pozhal plechami. "Gospodin i gospozha Kel'vin Mal'boro." "Ochen' smeshno." "Kakaia fars eto iz nas delaet." "Liudi budut khokhotat' do upadu." "Ia by ne mogla eto vyterpet'," - skazala ona. "Davaite nadeiat'sia, chto nam ne pridetsia." "Coglasno Deilu, my poluchim bol'shuiu kompensatsiiu." "Ia ob etom ne dumal." "Ia - da. Ia ne voz'mu ni tsenta iz etoi griaznoi denezhnoi kompensatsii." Na eio shchekakh vdrug poiavilis' piatna. "Vozmozhno, vsio eshchio slishkom rano prinimat' takie resheniia," - ostorozhno skazal on. "Ne dlia menia," - bormotala ona. Ona kazalas' ischezaiushchei. Eio kratkovremennoe ozhivlenie ischezlo. "Mne luchshe poiti," - skazala ona.
USER
eshche: She stretched out her arm, and he took her hand, cautiously offering the pressure of common purpose. When she returned it, he clasped harder. Somehow it felt like a ritual, the sealing of a lifelong promise. "I'm glad we talked," he stammered. "It's as though we're in it together. Like conspirators." A frown of confusion shadowed her face. She got up, yet some vague idea was germinating in his mind, and he delayed releasing her. "Do you suppose..." She waited, standing at the table's edge. "Suppose we found that place where they ... where they met. Now it's hanging in limbo, but if we found it, saw it, confirmed it, might it somehow put things in perspective?" He wasn't quite sure what he meant. "I doubt it," she said. Releasing his hand, she began to move away. Then she stopped. "What would it prove?" "I don't know. Just a thought." Still, he did not want her to leave. "Maybe." She shrugged and began to walk away. He rose after her, fishing in his wallet. At the door he caught her attention. As she turned, he thrust a business card in her hand. Then he watched her walk out into the cold gray morning, leaving him feeling empty.
CHATBOT
Ona protianula ruku, i on vzial ee, ostorozhno davaia davlenie obshchei tseli. Kogda ona otozvalas' na eto, on zazhal pokrepche. Kakim-to obrazom eto pochuvstvovalos' kak ritual, kak podtverzhdenie obeshchaniia na vsiu zhizn'. "Ia rad, chto my pogovorili," - probormotal on. "Kak budto my v etom vmeste. Slovno zagovorshchiki." Na eio litse poiavilas' ten' smushcheniia. Ona podnialas', no v ego golove zarozhdalas' kakaia-to neopredelennaia mysl', i on zaderzhal eio ruku, ne spesha otpustit'. "Vy ne predpolagaete li..." Ona podozhdala, stoia u kraia stola. "Predpolozhim, my nashli by eto mesto, gde oni... gde oni vstrechalis'. Seichas eto visit v nevesomosti, no esli by my nashli ego, uvideli by, podtverdili, ne moglo by eto kak-to rasstavit' vse po svoim mestam?" On ne byl sovsem uveren v tom, chto imeet v vidu. "Somnevaius'," - skazala ona. Otpustiv ego ruku, ona nachala ukhodit'. Zatem ona ostanovilas'. "Chto eto nam dokazalo by?" "Ne znaiu. Prosto mysl'." No emu vsio zhe ne khotelos', chtoby ona ukhodila. "Mozhet byt'." Ona pozhala plechami i nachala udaliat'sia. On vstal vsled za nei, vytashchiv koshelek. U dveri on privlek eio vnimanie. Kogda ona obernulas', on sunul v eio ruku vizitnuiu kartochku. Zatem on smotrel, kak ona vykhodit v kholodnoe seroe utro, ostavliaia ego s chuvstvom pustoty.
USER
i eshche: At first she was not certain as to why she had come. Going home, she knew. She had come to compare agonies, and she had gone away satisfied. His pain was no less than hers. It was as if they shared a semi-private room in the same hospital. Someone had decided that two people with the same condition would be more comfortable together. This odd conversation with the husband of her husband's mistress actually raised her spirits. In the car she emitted a trill of ironic laughter. Misery does like company, she thought. All day she had felt like a participant in a scavenger hunt in which she was the only hunter. Each step presented a strange new obstacle, each of which she felt ill-prepared to confront. "I'll make all the arrangements, Viv," Dale assured her after he had brought her home from the Medical Examiner's office. Her husband's partner had barely been in her field of vision in the old life. She was already referring to all events before the crash as the old life. Perhaps they had happened to someone else. With lawyerly tenacity he had persisted in probing her. He was not a fool. Certainly he surmised why the policeman had called them both into his office at the same time. The point was that he did not know for certain. But she had declined to press charges, as he suggested, which surely titillated his already keen curiosity. Also, even if the implication was clear, he would resist, in every way possible, exposing the law firm and its clients to scandal. Even without the stigma of infidelity, it was enough to contemplate how his ordered universe would react to a partner who had gone off secretly without telling either his office or his wife of his destination. It was not for nothing that Dale Martin had been made managing partner; he was the perfect Ivy League prig down to his old-fashioned garters, which he proudly exhibited on occasion to prove that he was a devotee of the tried and true ways of old money and class, and, therefore, not subject to contemporary fads. In deference to her husband, Vivien had always resisted detesting him. "He's high Episcopalian," Orson had said once. "That explains it?" Now he reminded her of Orson, the Orson she had just learned about, the Orson who had lived behind his facade of lies. The cheating Orson. The real Orson. "I'm executor of your husband's estate," Dale told her, settling into a chair in her living room. He had poured himself a drink and sat crosslegged, exhibiting preppy navy socks and their striped garters. "I've forgotten the details of the will, but I'll know tomorrow when I look at it again. I wrote it. I'm sure you'll have no immediate financial problems." She let him go on without comment. It was an area of complete ignorance for her. What did she know about death and its details? Even Orson's body, pink and remarkably healthy looking, hadn't looked dead. Often she had seen him sleeping like that, in just that position, on his back.
CHATBOT
Snachala ona ne byla uverena, pochemu ona prishla. Poiti domoi - eto ona znala. Ona prishla, chtoby sravnit' stradaniia, i ushla udovletvorionnoi. Ego bol' byla ne men'she, chem eio. Kak budto oni delili polu-privatnuiu palatu v odnoi i toi zhe bol'nitse. Kto-to reshil, chto dvum liudiam s odnim i tem zhe zabolevaniem budet komfortnee vmeste. Etot strannyi razgovor s muzhem liubovnitsy svoego muzha na samom dele podnial ei nastroenie. V mashine ona izdala trel' ironichnogo smekha. Beda deistvitel'no liubit kompaniiu, podumala ona. Ves' den' ona chuvstvovala sebia uchastnitsei igry na poisk musora, v kotoroi ona byla edinstvennym iskatelem. Kazhdyi shag predstavlial strannoe novoe prepiatstvie, k kazhdomu iz kotorykh ona chuvstvovala sebia malopodgotovlennoi. "Ia organizuiu vse, Viv," - uverial eio Deil, otvezia domoi iz biuro sudebno-meditsinskoi ekspertizy. Partnior eio muzha edva poiavlialsia v eio pole zreniia v staroi zhizni. Ona uzhe otnosila vse sobytiia do krusheniia k staroi zhizni. Vozmozhno, oni proiskhodili s kem-to drugim. S advokatskim uporstvom on prodolzhil doprashivat' eio. On ne byl durakom. Konechno, on dogadyvalsia, pochemu politseiskii vyzval ikh oboikh v svoi kabinet odnovremenno. Vopros v tom, chto on ne znal naverniaka. No ona otkazalas' pred'iavit' obvineniia, kak on predlozhil, chto, nesomnenno, razzadorilo ego uzhe aktivnoe liubopytstvo. Krome togo, dazhe esli namek byl iasen, on budet, liubymi sposobami, soprotivliat'sia rasprostraneniiu skandala, zatronuvshego advokatskuiu firmu i eio klientov. Dazhe bez kleima nevernosti dostatochno bylo zadumat'sia o tom, kak budet reagirovat' ego uporiadochennaia vselennaia na partniora, kotoryi taino uekhal, ne skazav ni ofisu, ni zhene o svoem punkte naznacheniia. Ne zria Deil Martin stal upravliaiushchim partniorom; on byl ideal'nym vypusknikom ligi pliushcha do ego staromodnykh podtiazhek, kotorye on s gordost'iu demonstriroval vremia ot vremeni, chtoby dokazat', chto on priverzhenets proverennykh i istinnykh sposobov starykh deneg i klassa, a sledovatel'no, ne podverzhen sovremennym uvlecheniiam. V znak uvazheniia k svoemu muzhu Vivien vsegda sderzhivalas' ot ego nenavisti. "On vysokii episkopalianin," - skazal kogda-to Orson. "Eto vsio ob'iasniaet?" Teper' on napominal ei Orsona, togo Orsona, o kotorom ona tol'ko chto uznala, Orsona, kotoryi zhil za svoim fasadom lzhi. Orsona-moshennika. Nastoiashchego Orsona. "Ia ispolnitel' zaveshchaniia vashego muzha," - soobshchil ei Deil, ustraivaias' v kresle v eio gostinoi. On nalil sebe napitok i sidel, zakinuv nogu na nogu, demonstriruia preppi morskie noski i ikh polosatye podtiazhki. "Ia zabyl detali zaveshchaniia, no uznaiu zavtra, kogda snova posmotriu na eto. Ia ego napisal. Ia uveren, chto u vas ne budet nemedlennykh finansovykh problem." Ona pozvolila emu govorit' bez kommentariev. Eto byla oblast' polnogo neznaniia dlia nee. Chto ona znala o smerti i eio detaliakh? Dazhe telo Orsona, rozovoe i udivitel'no zdorovogo vida, ne vygliadelo mertvym. Ona chasto videla ego spiashchim takim obrazom, v toi samoi poze, na spine.
USER
eshche fragment: "I suspect you'll want to bury him up in Boston. I'm sure there's cemetery space up there. New Englanders usually make provisions. Unless he's made arrangements here. Would you know about that, Viv?" She shrugged indifferently, although it reminded her that she had to call his sister. She had never been really close with her, a bloodless woman who had always thought of Vivien as beneath her brother in both forebears and intellect. A picture of the woman sprang into her mind. Like Orson, she possessed the same sharp-edged features-- handsome in a man, cronish in a woman. The idea, of seeing her again made her feel nauseated. Was it at that moment the idea of cremation was confirmed in her mind? "Would you like us to keep Ben for the night?" Dale asked. "No," she replied after a moment's thought. She'd call Alice. Her reaction to Orson's sister frightened her now. It had never occurred to her before to actually hate the woman; in fact, she had never really allowed herself to hate anyone. Not until now. "We never hate," her father had lectured. "We always try to understand." Well, that was one lesson that would need some relearning. She wondered suddenly if she would grow to hate Ben as well because he was a part of Orson. She shrank from the horror of that possibility. "I think I'd like to be alone now, Dale," she told him, ashamed of her thoughts about her son. It was all right to hate Dale and Orson's sister because they reminded her of Orson, but surely not Ben, not little Ben. A tiny scratching noise intruded suddenly. Hamster scratching at the door. She had put him out this morning. "What is that?" Dale asked. "The dog. He wants to come in." But she remained seated. Hamster was another reminder of Orson, his gift. Let him stay out, she decided, conscious of this new sense of malicious assertiveness. Before Dale left he pecked her on the cheek. Her skin twitched where he touched it. When he had gone, she called her parents. Her mother answered, and she poured out an altered version of the tragedy, exhibiting proper grief. "I'm so sorry, Viv. Oh, how awful." The woman dissolved in tears. Her father got on the phone. "Are you all right, darling?" he asked firmly. "And Ben?" "We'll make it, Dad." "Poor Orson." "Yes, Dad. Poor Orson." She gritted her teeth in anger. She felt total indifference, and when her father began to probe further, even in his gentle understanding way, she cut him off. "When you get here, we'll talk about it." She vowed then never to tell them the real story. They would, of course, be appalled. Such things happened only to other people. Telling Orson's sister was the worst of it.
CHATBOT
"Podozrevaiu, vy zakhotite pokhoronit' ego v Bostone. Tam, naverniaka, est' mesto na kladbishche. Zhiteli Novoi Anglii obychno zabotiatsia o takikh veshchakh. Esli tol'ko on ne sdelal kakikh-to dogovorennostei zdes'. Vy v kurse ob etom, Viv?" Ona ravnodushno pozhala plechami, khotia eto napomnilo ei o neobkhodimosti pozvonit' ego sestre. Oni nikogda ne byli osobenno blizki -- bezkrovnaia zhenshchina, kotoraia vsegda schitala Vivien nedostoinoi svoego brata, kak po proiskhozhdeniiu, tak i po umu. V ee golove voznik obraz etoi zhenshchiny -- kak u Orsona, u nee byli te zhe ostrye cherty litsa, privlekatel'nye u muzhchiny, no strogie u zhenshchiny. Mysl' o vstreche s nei vyzyvala u Vivien toshnotu. Ne togda li v ee golove rodilas' mysl' o krematsii? "Ne khoteli by vy, chtoby my zabrali Bena na noch'?" -- pointeresovalsia Deil. "Net," -- otvetila ona posle minutnogo razdum'ia. Ona pozvonit Elis. Reaktsiia na sestru Orsona teper' ee ispugala. Ei nikogda ran'she ne prikhodilo v golovu iskrenne nenavidet' etu zhenshchinu; na samom dele, ona nikogda ne pozvoliala sebe nenavidet' kogo-libo. Poka ne seichas. "My nikogda ne nenavidim," -- propovedoval ee otets. "My vsegda pytaemsia poniat'." Chto zh, eto urok, kotoryi potrebuet pereosmysleniia. Ona vdrug zadumalas', ne stanet li ona nenavidet' Bena takzhe, potomu chto on chast' Orsona. Ona otstupila ot uzhasa etoi vozmozhnosti. "Mne kazhetsia, ia by khotela pobyt' odna seichas, Deil," -- skazala ona, stydias' svoikh myslei o svoem syne. Bylo v poriadke veshchei nenavidet' Deila i sestru Orsona, potomu chto oni napominali ei o Orsone, no nikak nel'zia bylo nenavidet' Bena, malen'kogo Bena. Vdrug razdalsia tikhii skrebushchii zvuk. Khomiak tsarapalsia u dveri. Ona vypustila ego s utra naruzhu. "Chto eto takoe?" -- sprosil Deil. "Sobaka. Ona khochet voiti." No ona ostalas' sidet'. Khomiak byl eshche odnim napominaniem o Orsone, ego podarok. Pust' on ostanetsia snaruzhi, reshila ona, osoznavaia svoe novoe chuvstvo zlobnoi uverennosti v sebe. Pered ukhodom Deil potseloval ee v shcheku. Ee kozha dernulas' tam, gde on ee kosnulsia. Kogda on ushel, ona pozvonila svoim roditeliam. Otvetila ee mat', i Vivien vylila pered nei izmenennuiu versiiu tragedii, demonstriruia podobaiushchee gore. "Ochen' zhal', Viv. O, kak uzhasno." Zhenshchina rastvorilas' v slezakh. Ee otets vzial trubku. "Ty v poriadke, dorogaia?" -- tverdo sprosil on. "A Ben?" "My spravimsia, papa." "Bednyi Orson." "Da, papa. Bednyi Orson." Ona szhala zuby ot zlosti. Ona chuvstvovala polnoe ravnodushie, i kogda otets nachal doprashivat' dal'she, dazhe ego laskovym ponimaiushchim golosom, ona ego prervala. "Kogda vy priedete, my obsudim eto." Togda ona poklialas' nikogda ne rasskazyvat' im nastoiashchuiu istoriiu. Konechno, oni byli by porazheny. Takie veshchi sluchaiutsia tol'ko s drugimi liud'mi. Rasskazat' sestre Orsona bylo samym khudshim.
USER
eshche: "I don't believe it," his sister said. "He was in the wreck all week," Vivien explained. "I just found out this morning." "How horrible." Control was a Simpson trait, his sister had once told her. "Poor Orson. Oh, how ghastly." She let his sister gather her wits. She had always been proud and worshipful when it came to Orson. "I suppose you've made arrangements to bury him near Father in the Simpson plot in Boston. Perhaps we can have a service there as well. I'll notify our cousins--" "I'm having him cremated," Vivien said abruptly. "Cremated?" His sister cleared her throat. "The Simpsons don't cremate," she said. "It's my choice." "Was it Orson's?" "He's dead." She heard her draw in a deep breath. "I won't come then." "Suit yourself." "You can't do this." "Yes, I can." His sister began to speak, but Vivien hung up, cutting her off. I'll send you the beloved ashes, she vowed.
CHATBOT
"Ne mogu v eto poverit'," - skazala ego sestra. "On byl v aviakatastrofe na protiazhenii vsei nedeli," - ob'iasnila Vivien. "Ia uznala ob etom tol'ko segodnia utrom." "Kak uzhasno." Kontrol' - cherta sem'i Simpsonov, kak raz sestra kogda-to skazala ei ob etom. "Bednyi Orson. O, kak eto otvratitel'no." Ona dala sestre Orsona vremia sobrat'sia s mysliami. Ona vsegda byla gorda i pochitala Orsona. "Predpolagaiu, vy organizovali pokhorony riadom s ottsom na semeinom uchastke Simpsonov v Bostone. Mozhet byt', nam stoit takzhe provesti tam sluzhbu. Ia uvedomliu nashikh kuzenov--" "Ia sobiraius' ego kremirovat'," - rezko skazala Vivien. "Kremirovat'?" Ego sestra proiasnila gorlo. "Simpsony ne kremiruiut," - skazala ona. "Eto moi vybor." "Byl li eto vybor Orsona?" "On miortv." Ona uslyshala, kak ta gluboko vdokhnula. "Togda ia ne pridu." "Kak khochesh'." "Vy ne mozhete etogo sdelat'." "Mogu." Ego sestra nachala chto-to govorit', no Vivien povesila trubku, perebiv eio. Ia prishliu tebe eti dorogie prakh, - poobeshchala ona sebe.
USER
eshche: Orson was cremated the next day. A respectable crowd of colleagues attended, as well as her friend Margo Teeters and her husband, her parents, and others they had met along the way. The service was brief. At her request, very brief. Even Dale was urged by her to keep his remarks short. "It's my wish," she told him, unwilling to explain further. There was a small story in the papers, recounting only that the last survivors of the air crash had been brought up. Names were given. Nothing more. Wearing a black veil and trying to play the role of the aggrieved widow, she sat appropriately in the front row with her parents. She held a bunched handkerchief in her hand, but it was not moist. The minister's abbreviated eulogy was glowing but inane. Dale offered his own condensed testimonial of Orson's achievements, which seemed utterly ludicrous. Be a good soldier, she begged herself, suffering through the charade, her thoughts running in a different direction. Must she passively accept this violation of her self-respect? She felt degraded, abused. By dying, Orson had escaped her scrutiny. Burning his corpse, while symbolically dramatic, brought little satisfaction. He had no right to leave her without explanation, with all his secrets intact. The Davis fellow had hit upon something. Putting things in perspective, he had called it. Why? How? Where? These had become important questions. She had been violated, betrayed, her illusions shattered. How would she be able to confront the future without knowing these answers? The rest of her life was at stake. "I must know," she whispered while Dale was speaking. "What is it, dear?" her mother asked. "Nothing." No, she thought, she would not let them have their perfect crime. Everyone left clues. "What about the ashes?" her father asked as they made their way to the parking lot after the service. "They'll be along," she lied. Actually, she had made arrangements to have them sent directly to Orson's sister. Before she got in the car, she tossed her black veil into a trash can. "I hope I never need this again," she said, placating her parents who had looked at her strangely. "What a positive attitude," her mother exclaimed, offering a thin smile of reluctant approval. "Life must go on," her father said. "Yes," she agreed. Not quite yet, she thought. Her parents consented to take Ben to Vermont. She did not set any time limits. If only the child were not the living image of his father. To be conscious of such an idea seemed wrong. Her own child! Yet when she had looked at him that morning, Orson's eyes had looked back at her, Orson's once innocent eyes. Now they glared at her with imagined cunning and ridicule. And she had turned away in anger from her own flesh and blood. And Orson's. Her insides seemed to flare up in revolt.
CHATBOT
Na sleduiushchii den' Orson byl kremirovan. Na tseremoniiu prishlo dostoinoe kolichestvo kolleg, a takzhe eio podruga Margo Titers so svoim muzhem, eio roditeli i drugie, kotorykh oni vstretili na svoiom puti. Sluzhba byla kratkoi. Po eio pros'be, ochen' kratkoi. Dazhe Deilu ona nastoiala ogranichit' svoi slova. "Eto moio zhelanie," - skazala ona emu, ne zhelaia ob'iasniat' podrobnee. V gazetakh byla nebol'shaia zametka, v kotoroi rasskazyvalos' lish' o tom, chto poslednie vyzhivshie posle aviakatastrofy byli dostavleny naverkh. Byli privedeny imena. Bol'she nichego. Odev chernuiu vual' i pytaias' igrat' rol' ogorchennoi vdovy, ona sootvetstvuiushchim obrazom sidela v pervom riadu s roditeliami. V ruke u neio byl skomkannyi platok, no on ostalsia sukhim. Sokrashchennaia molitva sviashchennika zvuchala lestno, no glupo. Deil predlozhil svoi sobstvennye szhatye slova o dostizheniiakh Orsona, kotorye kazalis' polnost'iu nelepymi. Bud' khoroshim soldatom, umoliala ona sebia, pereterpevaia fars, eio mysli ubegali v drugom napravlenii. Dolzhna li ona passivno priniat' eto narushenie sobstvennogo dostoinstva? Ona chuvstvovala sebia unizhennoi, oskorblennoi. Umerev, Orson izbavilsia ot eio pristal'nogo vnimaniia. Sozhzhenie ego tela, khotia i simvolichno dramatichno, malo chto dalo ei utesheniia. U nego ne bylo prava ostavit' eio bez ob'iasnenii, so vsemi ego sekretami. Tot paren' Devis natolknul na mysl'. Rasstavit' vsio po mestam, kak on govoril. Pochemu? Kak? Gde? Eti voprosy stali vazhny. Ona byla narushena, predana, eio illiuzii byli razrusheny. Kak ona smozhet smotret' v budushchee, ne znaia eti otvety? Ot etogo zavisit ves' eio ostatok zhizni. "Mne eto nuzhno uznat'," - prosheptala ona, poka Deil govoril. "Chto sluchilos', dorogaia?" - sprosila eio mat'. "Nichego." Net, ona podumala, ona ne pozvolit im sovershit' ideal'noe prestuplenie. Vse ostavliaiut za soboi sledy. "Chto naschet prakha?" - sprosil otets, kogda oni napravlialis' na parkovku posle sluzhby. "Oni prishliut ego," - sovrala ona. Na samom dele, ona uzhe ustroila, chtoby ego otpravili priamo sestre Orsona. Prezhde chem sest' v mashinu, ona vybrosila svoiu chernuiu vual' v musornoe vedro. "Nadeius', ia bol'she nikogda ne ponadoblius' v etom," - skazala ona, uspokaivaia svoikh roditelei, kotorye posmotreli na neio stranno. "Kakoi pozitivnyi nastroi," - voskliknula eio mat', predlozhiv blednuiu ulybku neokhotnogo odobreniia. "Zhizn' dolzhna prodolzhat'sia," - skazal otets. "Da," - soglasilas' ona. Ne sovsem eshche, podumala ona. Eio roditeli soglasilis' otvezti Bena v Vermont. Ona ne stavila nikakikh vremennykh ramok. Esli by tol'ko rebenok ne byl tak pokhozh na svoego ottsa. Priznavat'sia v takoi idee kazalos' nepravil'nym. Eio sobstvennyi rebenok! I tem ne menee, kogda ona posmotrela na nego utrom, na neio posmotreli glaza Orsona, ranee nevinnye glaza Orsona. Teper' oni smotreli na neio s predpolagaemoi khitrost'iu i nasmeshkoi. I ona otvernulas' v gneve ot svoei sobstvennoi ploti i krovi. I Orsona. Eio vnutrennosti, kazalos', vosstali v bunte.
USER
eshche: "There are so many details to attend to. I appreciate this, Mom." "Nonsense. But will you be all right?" "I'll be fine." Her parents watched her, unsure, assessing her state of mind. She knew that they suspected something was not quite as it should be. The balance of their relationship was slightly awry. They had probed her in oblique ways. Yet she could not bring herself to lie to them outright. Her explanation had been selective but truthful. No, she had not known he was on that plane. To avoid further probing, she told them that she was simply not ready to talk about it. That, they were willing to accept. "When you finish those details, will you come up to Vermont?" her mother asked. "It would be good therapy," her father encouraged. "We'll see," she answered. But first she had other things to do. She said good-bye to Ben with fervent kisses and promises that seemed hollow and weak, as if they came from someone other than herself. "Mommy will come up soon. You just listen to Grandma and Grandpa." "And will we make another snowman?" "Of course we will." She felt her son's beating heart next to her own. A wrenching sob made her tremble, but no tears came. Something inside her was hardening. In her arms, in the living creature that was her child, she again felt Orson's presence. Her grip tightened as she crushed him against her. "You're hurting me, Mommy," Ben grunted. She unlocked her elbows and held him at arm's length. "I would never hurt my baby. Never." She was protesting to herself, and it frightened her. This is my child, she thought, determined to ward off the horror of this aberrant feeling. "I love you very much," she said. The words were expelled rather than spoken. "And I love you, Mommy." Was hate more powerful than love? She had kneeled to embrace Ben. Now she stood up. Her knees felt weak. "Come on, Hamster," Ben called. The little dog barked at hearing his name and nuzzled up to Ben. "You can't bring Hamster, Ben." Her words seemed shockingly stern. "It's perfectly all right," her mother said. "I'm sorry. I simply will not add to your burdens." "But it's no--" "Please, Mother."
CHATBOT
"Slishkom mnogo vsego predstoit uladit'. Ia tseniu eto, mama." "Chepukha. No ty budesh' v poriadke?" "Budu khorosho." Eio roditeli nabliudali za nei, neuverennye, otsenivali eio sostoianie. Ona znala, chto oni podozrevali, chto chto-to bylo ne tak, kak dolzhno byt'. Balans ikh otnoshenii slegka narushilsia. Oni tonko vsio eto vysprashivali. Tem ne menee, ona ne mogla zastavit' sebia otkrovenno solgat' im. Eio ob'iasneniia byli izbiratel'nymi, no pravdivymi. Net, ona ne znala, chto on byl v tom samoliote. Chtoby izbezhat' dopolnitel'nykh rassprosov, ona skazala, chto prosto eshchio ne gotova govorit' ob etom. Eto oni byli gotovy priniat'. "Kogda ty zakonchish' s etimi delami, priedesh' v Vermont?" - sprosila eio mat'. "Eto bylo by khoroshei terapiei," - podbadrival eio otets. "Posmotrim," - otvetila ona. No snachala u neio byli drugie dela. Ona s goriachimi potseluiami i obeshchaniiami, kotorye kazalis' pustymi i slabymi, kak budto oni prinadlezhali komu-to drugomu, poproshchalas' s Benom. "Mama skoro priedet. Ty prosto slushai babushku i dedushku." "I my sdelaem eshchio snegovika?" "Konechno sdelaem." Ona pochuvstvovala nervnoe serdtsebienie svoego syna riadom so svoim. Razdiraiushchii vskhlip zastavil eio drozhat', no sliozy tak i ne prishli. Vnutri neio chto-to zakalilos'. V svoikh ob'iatiiakh, v zhivom sushchestve, kotoroe bylo eio rebenkom, ona snova oshchushchala prisutstvie Orsona. Eio ob'iatiia zatianulis', tak chto ona s siloi prizhala ego k sebe. "Ty menia bolish', mama," - prostonal Ben. Ona vypriamilas' i otstranila ego ot sebia. "Ia nikogda ne prichiniu bol' svoemu malyshu. Nikogda." Ona protestovala pered samoi soboi, i eto pugalo eio. Eto moi rebenok, - podumala ona, reshitel'no otgoniaia mysl' o svoiom izvrashchennom chuvstve. "Ia ochen' sil'no liubliu tebia," - skazala ona. Slova vyrvalis' iz neio skoree, chem byli proizneseny. "I ia tebia liubliu, mama." Byla li nenavist' sil'nee liubvi? Ona opustilas' na koleni, chtoby obniat' Bena. Teper' ona vstala. Koleni kazalis' slabymi. "Poshli, Khomiak," - pozval Ben. Malen'kaia sobachka zalaiala, uslyshav svoio imia, i prizhalas' k Benu. "Ty ne mozhesh' vziat' Khomiaka, Ben." Eio slova prozvuchali udivitel'no strogo. "Eto sovershenno normal'no," - skazala eio mat'. "Izvinite. Ia prosto ne khochu dobavliat' vam khlopot." "No eto ne--" "Pozhaluista, mama."
USER
eshche: Her mother nodded and turned to Ben. "Your mother is right," she said. Ben brushed away a tear with the edge of his jacket. She felt like someone had cut her into two distinct parts, each warring with the other. "He'll keep me company," one part of her said. The other part detested the idea and had other plans for Hamster. "Now you're sure you're all right, darling?" her father whispered, lingering behind as her mother and Ben got into the car. She let him hug her and kiss her cheek, but she did not answer the question. Sure? she wondered. Would she ever be sure of anything again? When they had gone she felt an enormous sense of relief, a pleasurable sense of forbidden freedom. She could now search the house in peace, probe the last vestiges of Orson Oscar Simpson, without the strictures of showing a false face to others. Beginning with the closets, she removed every article of his clothing, carefully going through the pockets for stray notes, signs, clues, anything that might lead her to what, in her mind, had become her prey. She felt the full lust of the predator as she worked with singleminded dedication. Soon there was a giant pile of discarded clothing on the floor of the bedroom. Pickings had been slim as far as pocket contents were concerned. She found nothing to lead her in any direction. He had, obviously, been very cautious. By late afternoon she had gone through every stitch of Orson's clothing, which she packed into large plastic garbage bags and placed outside the door. After she inspected and discarded every article that could be designated as "his," she would call the Salvation Army and rid herself of them, get them out of her life once and for all. Testing her resolve, she was satisfied that she felt neither a single tremor of conscience nor a bit of remorse. Working late into the evening, she went through papers, books, checkbooks, packets of cancelled checks, piles of old law briefs. Nowhere, as far as she could ascertain, did she find a single clue to his other fife. She pored over old telephone bills and whatever she could find of credit card receipts. When she became satisfied that it had nothing to do with his other life, she flung the paper or article into a plastic bag. She wanted no part of them. What she was seeking was something tangible, although it was not identified in her mind as anything specific. She believed only that she would know when she found it. When something familiar recalled a feeling of sentiment, she threw it aside, earmarking it for the rubbish heap. With these sentimental objects she was flinging away the old life--the life of hypocrisy, the life in which she was cast as victim. Never again, she vowed. Somewhere there had to be a clue. At times she clung briefly to the idea that what Orson had done could not possibly be real or true. When such an idea struck, there was an interlude of memory that was difficult to control. Hadn't there been good moments between them? But the sentiment would dissipate quickly. At the coffee shop Edward Davis had said: "It's like we're in it together. Like conspirators." It seemed to be an indisputable truth. All relationships now seemed conspiratorial. Orson and the Davis woman. Perhaps Dale and Mrs. Sparks. McCarthy and the man from the airlines. Margo conspiring against her husband. She conspiring against her parents. Against Ben. My God! Guilt rose inside her, burning her insides.
CHATBOT
Eio mat' kivnula i obratilas' k Benu. "Tvoia mama prava," - skazala ona. Ben otter slezu kraem svoei kurtki. Ona pochuvstvovala, kak budto eio razrezali na dve raznye chasti, kazhdaia iz kotorykh srazhalas' s drugoi. "On budet sostavliat' mne kompaniiu," - skazala odna chast' eio. Drugaia chast' ne liubila etu ideiu i imela drugie plany na Khomiaka. "Ty tochno v poriadke, dorogaia?" - tikho prosheptal eio otets, zaderzhivaias', poka eio mat' i Ben sadilis' v mashinu. Ona pozvolila emu obniat' sebia i potselovat' v shcheku, no na vopros ne otvetila. Tochno? ona zadalas' voprosom. Budet li ona kogda-nibud' v chem-to uverena snova? Kogda oni uekhali, ona pochuvstvovala ogromnoe oblegchenie, priiatnoe oshchushchenie zapretnoi svobody. Teper' ona mogla v pokoe obyskat' dom, issledovat' poslednie sledy Orsona Oskara Simpsona, ne ogranichennaia neobkhodimost'iu podderzhivat' fal'shivyi fasad pered drugimi. Nachinaia s shkafov, ona dostala kazhduiu veshch' ego odezhdy, tshchatel'no obyskivaia karmany na predmet sluchainykh zapisok, priznakov, ulik, chego-libo, chto moglo by napravit' eio khot' v kakom-to napravlenii. Tshchatel'no i s sosredotochennoi predannost'iu, ona pochuvstvovala polnuiu strast' khishchnika. Vskore na polu spal'ni navalom lezhala gruda otbroshennoi odezhdy. Nakhodki byli skudnymi, chto kasaetsia soderzhimogo karmanov. Ona ne nashla nichego, chto moglo by ukazat' ei put'. Ochevidno, on byl ochen' osmotritelen. K pozdnemu vecheru ona proshlas' po kazhdoi veshchi Orsona, kotoruiu zapakovala v bol'shie meshki dlia musora i vystavila za dver'. Posle togo kak ona osmotrela i vybrosila kazhduiu veshch', kotoruiu mozhno bylo otnesti k "ego", ona vyzovet Armiiu spaseniia i izbavitsia ot nikh, vybrosit ikh iz svoei zhizni raz i navsegda. Otsenivaia svoiu reshimost', ona byla udovletvorena tem, chto ne chuvstvovala ni maleishego ugryzeniia sovesti, ni kapli sozhaleniia. Rabotaia do pozdnego vechera, ona perebirala bumagi, knigi, chekovye knizhki, pachki pogashennykh chekov, kuchi starykh iuridicheskikh dokumentov. Nigde, naskol'ko ona mogla sudit', ona ne nashla ni odnoi uliki o ego drugoi zhizni. Ona vchityvalas' v starye scheta za telefon i to, chto smogla naiti iz kvitantsii po kreditnym kartochkam. Kogda ona ubedilas', chto oni ne imeli nikakogo otnosheniia k ego drugoi zhizni, ona shvyrnula bumagu ili predmet v plastikovyi meshok. Ona ne zhelala imet' s nimi nichego obshchego. To, chto ona iskala, bylo chem-to oshchutimym, khotia v eio ume eto ne bylo opredeleno konkretno. Ona verila lish' v to, chto uznaet eto, kogda naidet. Kogda chto-to znakomoe vyzyvalo chuvstvo nostal'gii, ona otbrasyvala eto v storonu, pomechaia dlia svalki. S etimi nostal'gicheskimi predmetami ona vybrasyvala staruiu zhizn' -- zhizn' litsemeriia, zhizn', v kotoroi ona byla zhertvoi. Nikogda bol'she, klialas' ona. Gde-to dolzhna byla byt' ulika. Inogda ona na mgnovenie vpadala v mysl', chto to, chto Orson sdelal, ne moglo byt' real'nym ili pravdivym. Kogda takaia mysl' naseliala eio, prikhodil interval vospominanii, kotorye bylo slozhno kontrolirovat'. Razve ne bylo mezhdu nimi khoroshikh momentov? No nostal'giia bystro ugasala. V kofeine Edvard Devis skazal: "My v etom vmeste. Kak zagovorshchiki." Eto kazalos' neosporimoi pravdoi. Teper' vse otnosheniia predstavlialis' zagovorami. Orson i zhena Devisa. Vozmozhno, Deil i missis Sparks. Makkarti i chelovek iz aviakompanii. Margo zagovarivala protiv svoego muzha. Ona zagovarivala protiv svoikh roditelei. Protiv Bena. Gospodi moi! Vina podnialas' vnutri eio, zhguchaia eio iznutri.
USER
eshche: Confronting her frustration, she recalled the Davis man again. His image was etched sharply in her mind, his voice was imprinted in her memory. "What lies! What horrible lies!" he had shouted in the coffee shop, another perfect reflection of her anguish. Reflection. He was her mirror now. In him she could see herself, the twisted, tortured image of her abandoned and betrayed self. She needed to confront it again, needed it now. She rummaged in her pocketbook and found his card, noting for the first time that he was an administrative assistant to a congressman. Also on the card was his home number, which she called. As it rang persistently, she remembered him saying that he was going to bury his wife in Baltimore. When he answered, she was surprised. "I thought you would be gone," she said without identifying herself. There was not the slightest hesitation in his voice. He had recognized her instantly. "Tomorrow," he said. "I had her shipped. I couldn't bear to sit around with them. I'll show up at the church at the last possible moment," he explained. "I'm the outsider. Just a gesture. Why not?" "It's over for me," she said. "He was cremated today." "So it's behind you," he said with an air of sympathy. "You think so?" "Not really. It'll never be behind us." "Can we talk?" she asked, not bothering to hide her urgency. "Of course. Same place?" "No." "Then where?" "Someplace not public. But not here." She looked around the house. "Your place?" There was a brief pause. "It's an absolute horror. I'm a terrible housekeeper." "You should see mine." She looked about her, surveying the wreckage from her search. She wrote down the directions to his place, then brushed back her hair and washed her face. Earlier she had let Hamster out again. Vaguely, she remembered, he had scratched on the door. She put out his dog food. Orson's gift. Even her relationship with Hamster would never be the same again. She tried to chuckle away the idea but failed to savor the humor of it. She drove quickly over the Key Bridge. At that hour there was hardly any traffic, and she arrived in a surprisingly short time. He opened the door, tired and disheveled, more ravaged than he had looked at their meeting in the coffee shop. She could see that he had made a halfhearted effort to tidy up but had not been completely successful. "I told you, it's a shithouse. Lily was as neat as a pin." Towels, articles of clothing, empty pizza boxes were strewn about. Pictures were awry, pillows mashed. Crumbs were everywhere. A hint of pine-scented deodorizer seemed incongruous in the disjointed atmosphere. In his haste he had probably oversprayed the room.
CHATBOT
Smotria svoemu razocharovaniiu v litso, ona vspomnila snova togo cheloveka po imeni Devis. Ego obraz byl rezko vyrezan v eio ume, ego golos zapechatlen v eio pamiati. "Kakie lzhi! Kakie uzhasnye lzhi!" - on krichal v kofeine, chto iavlialos' eshchio odnim tochnym otrazheniem eio stradanii. Otrazhenie. Teper' on byl eio zerkalom. V nem ona mogla videt' sebia, iskazhennoe, izmuchennoe izobrazhenie svoego broshennogo i predannogo "ia". Ei nuzhno bylo vnov' eto perezhit', eto ei bylo nuzhno seichas. Ona porylas' v svoei sumke i nashla ego vizitku, zametiv vpervye, chto on byl administrativnym assistentom kongressmena. Takzhe na kartochke byl ukazan ego domashnii nomer, kotoryi ona nabrala. Po mere togo kak on nastoichivo zvonil, ona vspomnila, kak on skazal, chto otvezet svoiu zhenu na pokhorony v Baltimor. Kogda on otvetil, ona udivilas'. "Ia dumala, vy uzhe uekhali," - skazala ona, ne predstavliaias'. V ego golose ne bylo ni maleishego kolebaniia. On srazu eio uznal. "Zavtra," - skazal on. "Ia otpravil eio tuda. Ia ne mog terpet' vokrug nikh. Ia poiavlius' v tserkvi v poslednii vozmozhnyi moment," - ob'iasnil on. "Ia postoronnii. Prosto zhest. Pochemu by i net?" "U menia uzh spravleno," - skazala ona. "On byl kremirovan segodnia." "Tak eto pozadi vas," - skazal on s vneshnim sochuvstviem. "Vy tak dumaete?" "Na samom dele net. Eto nikogda ne ostanetsia pozadi." "Mozhem pogovorit'?" - sprosila ona, ne stesniaias' demonstrirovat' svoiu srochnost'. "Konechno. V tom zhe meste?" "Net." "Togda gde?" "Nigde na publike. No ne zdes'." Ona ogliadela dom vokrug. "U vas doma?" Byla korotkaia pauza. "U menia absoliutnyi bardak. Ia uzhasnyi khoziain." "Nado by vam uvidet' moi." Ona ogliadela vokrug, osmatrivaia razgrom ot svoikh poiskov. Ona zapisala instruktsii, kak dobrat'sia k ego domu, zatem otkinula volosy nazad i umyla litso. Ranee ona snova vypustila Khomiaka na ulitsu. Smutno ona vspomnila, chto on tsarapal dver'. Ona vystavila na ulitsu ego edu dlia sobak. Podarok Orsona. Eio otnosheniia s Khomiakom tozhe nikogda uzhe ne budut prezhnimi. Ona popytalas' otshutit'sia ot etoi mysli, no ne sumela nasladit'sia iumorom situatsii. Ona bystro proekhala cherez Ki-bridzh. V to vremia tam bylo pochti bez avtomobilei, i ona pribyla v udivitel'no korotkie sroki. On otkryl dver', vygliadel ustavshim i rastrepannym, bolee izranennym, chem ona ego pomnila s ikh vstrechi v kofeine. Ona uvidela, chto on s polovinchatym entuziazmom popytalsia pribrat'sia, no emu ne udalos' eto polnost'iu. "Ia zhe govoril, eto svinarnik. Lili byla akkuratna do pedantizma." Polotentsa, veshchi, pustye korobki ot pitstsy byli razbrosany povsiudu. Kartiny viseli krivo, podushki byli pomiaty. Vezde byli kroshki. Namek na dezodorant s pikhtovym zapakhom kazalsia neumestnym v besporiadochnoi atmosfere. Vidimo, v speshke on pereborshchil s raspyleniem v komnate.
USER
eshche: He was wearing jeans, a torn sweater, down-at-the-heel loafers, and no socks. On his haggard face was a day's growth of beard. Her inspection lingered a trifle too long, making him uncomfortable. "I just sat here all day," he said, stroking his face, clearing a place on a chair thick with cast-off shirts and socks. "Tomorrow I'll drive up to Baltimore. It's going to be awful." She removed her coat and sat down. "Mine was surprisingly routine. A crackling fire. Over and done with." She patted her knee. Then, standing abruptly, she walked to the window, parted the curtains with her fingers, and looked out over the darkened city. She felt him watching her. To tell him why she had come she had to turn and face him. He looked forlorn. "I want to know what really went on between them." "You do? Isn't that masochistic?" His change in attitude surprised her. "Why give it a name? I just have to know." He locked his fingers together and rubbed the palm of one with the thumb of the other. "I've spent the day trying to reject the idea. But it's all I could think about." His eyes swept the room. "As you can see, I'm not coping very well." "I think that if we really found more--the truth--it would help us cope with the future. Maybe find out what went wrong with both of us. Why they did it." Was it herself talking? "You do really want to know?" She nodded. "I have that need. Yes." Was it the real reason? Catching her reflection in a wall mirror, she saw an image of determination: jaw jutting upward, eyes narrowed with intensity, and head held high. Who was this creature? she wondered, turning again to face him. He had sagged onto the couch. "I'd rather forget it," he muttered. He looked up at her like a helpless puppy. "But I can't." "You see?" "What's the point?" He shook his head. A burst of mocking laughter hissed out of his throat. "It's like asking someone: How are you? And he tells you the absolute truth. Who wants to know?" "I want to know. I spent eight years with a man I believed in, someone to whom I was committed for a lifetime, the father of my son. That man betrayed me, and I want to know why." "No, you don't," Davis said. "You want to know how. You'll never find out why. My dilemma is more of a who. Who the hell was Lily? The person I knew and loved and married and lived with? Or the broken woman on the tray? That's my