Read Online Apart From Love by Uvi Poznansky - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Uvi Poznansky
Tags: Novel
Ads: Link
you dare come any closer to me with them fine needles.”
“I see,” says aunt Hadassa.
She wraps the yarn around her index finger and plucks it, as if to transmit a message by wire. “A feisty little kitten,” she says, “are you now!” At which time aunt Frida asks, “She’s a kitten?” and aunt Fruma confirms, “Yes: a feisty little one!”
By now Aunt Hadassa has stepped back, and with a tightlipped expression she sits there and starts sawing the three squares of wool together, using some fancy sort of a stitch, and clicking her tongue, and sighing, like, “My, my.”
After doing this for a while, she pushes them glasses up her nose, and raises her eyes to me and says, “I’m trying to talk to you, dear, like I was your ma, you know.”
To which I say, “And what makes you think I need another ma? One’s more than enough! And you, you don’t know nothing about my ma.”
“I guess I don’t,” she has to admit. “But being pregnant is not for sissies, dear. You must make sure you are strong, like me.”
At hearing this, I can’t hide my disgust. “If this is what strength looks like, I swear, I’m gonna take disease.”
“I see,” says she. “In that case, it’s not too late, you know.”
And before I can ask, “What is?” she goes on to drive the point home.
“I have done it before, and it can make things so much easier for you, because really, you like to run around and have your fun, don’t you. And here you are, poor dear, lying in bed, confined, probably, for weeks, if not months. Now with all this bleeding going on, my, my, who knows what has happened there.”
She points her needle at me, stressing, “Maybe it’s no good anyway, I mean, not viable, if you know what I am saying—”
“Don’t—don’t you dare say it,” I flash a warning at her. “For God’s sake, bite your tongue!”
At that minute, aunt Hadassa picks up the scissors; which is when I suddenly remember that piece of music which I heard with Lenny.
He took me to some opera, Wagner I think, which was long and kinda difficult to get, but he told me to listen, and he explained it all to me, and from there I remember them, the three Norns: They spun the thread of fate, and they sang, like, the song of the future.
Beware, they sang.
Beware, I tell myself now, as aunt Hadassa holds up the yarn, and snips it.
And with a sigh she leans into her feet and gets up. So do her sisters, and all their images in that oval, standalone mirror, right there in the opposite corner.
“Nu, we are going to leave now,” she says. “We are going to hurry out, dear, because we do not want you to tell us we should go. Just think about it, will you? I was just saying... It is not too late, really... You are in pain, dear, I can see it quite plainly. And there is still time to end this.”
The three sisters file out with a quick, matching step, and go out to the corridor, followed closely by a whirl in the air, in which you can spot three bounces—high, higher, highest—of three balls of yarn.
And as they make their final exit, I shout at them as loud as I can, despite that sharp pain right here, in my guts, “Aunt Hadassa!”
I hear them stopping in their tracks out there, behind that door.
“What is it,” whispers one. “What does she want,” whispers another. And the last one answers, probably with a wave of a hand, “Who knows... Maybe, just to meow a little.”
Which in turn, makes me roar, “Who needs you! You, who think you can tell me what to do, and what not to do, and whether or not my pregnancy is like, viable, and should it come to full term, or not! I just wish that you leave me alone! Get the hell out! Get out of my womb, where it is not your business to be! And if I don’t see none of you never again, it’s gonna be too soon!”
Chapter 6
A Promise, Aborted
As Told by Anita
F or a while I leaf through this book, which Lenny’s bought me. I bet he’s real
“I see,” says aunt Hadassa.
She wraps the yarn around her index finger and plucks it, as if to transmit a message by wire. “A feisty little kitten,” she says, “are you now!” At which time aunt Frida asks, “She’s a kitten?” and aunt Fruma confirms, “Yes: a feisty little one!”
By now Aunt Hadassa has stepped back, and with a tightlipped expression she sits there and starts sawing the three squares of wool together, using some fancy sort of a stitch, and clicking her tongue, and sighing, like, “My, my.”
After doing this for a while, she pushes them glasses up her nose, and raises her eyes to me and says, “I’m trying to talk to you, dear, like I was your ma, you know.”
To which I say, “And what makes you think I need another ma? One’s more than enough! And you, you don’t know nothing about my ma.”
“I guess I don’t,” she has to admit. “But being pregnant is not for sissies, dear. You must make sure you are strong, like me.”
At hearing this, I can’t hide my disgust. “If this is what strength looks like, I swear, I’m gonna take disease.”
“I see,” says she. “In that case, it’s not too late, you know.”
And before I can ask, “What is?” she goes on to drive the point home.
“I have done it before, and it can make things so much easier for you, because really, you like to run around and have your fun, don’t you. And here you are, poor dear, lying in bed, confined, probably, for weeks, if not months. Now with all this bleeding going on, my, my, who knows what has happened there.”
She points her needle at me, stressing, “Maybe it’s no good anyway, I mean, not viable, if you know what I am saying—”
“Don’t—don’t you dare say it,” I flash a warning at her. “For God’s sake, bite your tongue!”
At that minute, aunt Hadassa picks up the scissors; which is when I suddenly remember that piece of music which I heard with Lenny.
He took me to some opera, Wagner I think, which was long and kinda difficult to get, but he told me to listen, and he explained it all to me, and from there I remember them, the three Norns: They spun the thread of fate, and they sang, like, the song of the future.
Beware, they sang.
Beware, I tell myself now, as aunt Hadassa holds up the yarn, and snips it.
And with a sigh she leans into her feet and gets up. So do her sisters, and all their images in that oval, standalone mirror, right there in the opposite corner.
“Nu, we are going to leave now,” she says. “We are going to hurry out, dear, because we do not want you to tell us we should go. Just think about it, will you? I was just saying... It is not too late, really... You are in pain, dear, I can see it quite plainly. And there is still time to end this.”
The three sisters file out with a quick, matching step, and go out to the corridor, followed closely by a whirl in the air, in which you can spot three bounces—high, higher, highest—of three balls of yarn.
And as they make their final exit, I shout at them as loud as I can, despite that sharp pain right here, in my guts, “Aunt Hadassa!”
I hear them stopping in their tracks out there, behind that door.
“What is it,” whispers one. “What does she want,” whispers another. And the last one answers, probably with a wave of a hand, “Who knows... Maybe, just to meow a little.”
Which in turn, makes me roar, “Who needs you! You, who think you can tell me what to do, and what not to do, and whether or not my pregnancy is like, viable, and should it come to full term, or not! I just wish that you leave me alone! Get the hell out! Get out of my womb, where it is not your business to be! And if I don’t see none of you never again, it’s gonna be too soon!”
Chapter 6
A Promise, Aborted
As Told by Anita
F or a while I leaf through this book, which Lenny’s bought me. I bet he’s real
Similar Books
