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making room for the images that rose from it, digital quality holographs in living color and
sound.
I saw myself, 14 months younger and light years closer to innocence, sitting in the living
room of what looked like an old frat house. The stuffing peeked out of several holes in the
couch and love seat, the coffee table had once been a working door that now sat on a
double-high pile of cement blocks, and the chairs only rocked because their legs were
uneven.
"Look, Jaz," said Bergman, "the furniture in the picture is arranged the same way you did
it just now."
"The same way she always does it," Vayl said, folding his arms across his chest.
"Since you're so determined to be mad at me, go right ahead," I said, "but the fact is I
never knew why I kept moving the furniture around. I wasn't usually even aware I was
doing it. Then you said something, and it seemed like such a strange thing to do," I
shrugged, "I made up a reason so you wouldn't think I was crazy."
Did I detect a slight softening in Vayl's expression, or was I just fishing? Never mind. The
show had gone on. In a room it hurt my heart to see again, my band of Helsingers and I
sat around the recycled door playing a card game I knew I'd been good at but could no
longer remember the name of.
I could tell we meant to go back out, because we still wore our uniforms. Superman Suits,
we called them, feather-lite body armor encased in navy blue leather. We were all high on
adrenalin and success, toasting each other like German bobsledders, eating pizza for God's
sake. Pizza.
The room tilted and nearly took me with it. But Vayl's hand on my shoulder steadied me. I
looked up, grateful he still thought enough of me to leave his chair. He settled on the arm
of the couch beside me.
"I only remember bits of this," I said, sensing that explanations might keep me from falling
headfirst into the nightmare that, until now, had only played itself out behind my eyelids.
"That's Matt on my left. He'd just turned 26 two weeks before. The tan is from the trip
we'd taken to Hawaii to celebrate." My throat closed on the words, and for a minute I
couldn't speak.
Matt and I sat on the couch, talking softly while the others played out the hand. Brad and
Olivia, a married couple from Georgia, sat in the tattered love seat that met our couch at
45 degrees. They took turns throwing red plastic chips into the growing pile and teasing
each other about losing the down payment on their house in a single hand.
Dellan, a muscle-bound vamp who'd been turned in the 60s, sat on the floor to my right,
cradling his crossbow, eating all the toppings off his pizza. He threw what was left to
Thea, also a vamp and sometimes his lover depending on how much he irritated her
who sat on the floor to Olivia's left. Tomato sauce made her gag, but she couldn't get
enough of that stuffed crust.
We'd go back into the field as soon as the pizza and cards had played themselves out, but
for now we were just kicking back and enjoying the company. "That's Jessie, sitting in the
chair across from us, the one in front of the fireplace. She was my sister-in-law. She
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was " I shook my head, not knowing how to capture Jessie's vibrant, infectious humor,
her intense loyalty, her deep and abiding passion for my brother in words. "She was my
hero."
Jessie had draped her leg across the chair beside her, as if saving it for David. Having
made her bet, she was fashioning an airplane from a couple of paper towels. I knew
eventually it would come floating my way and I would be required to throw my napkin
back at her, but for now I was content to snuggle with my honey.
It felt a little sick to watch my handsome young lover rear his head back and laugh at one
of my wiseass comments, as if I was some grief-crazed widow rolling out the home
movies for a torturous walk over the coals of memory lane. But, God, it was good to see
him, to see all of them, and remember with a sort of shock how happy we'd been together. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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