spoken more words telling the story of his dream life than he had in the past two days. He’d also hinted at more about the conditions of his captivity than she wanted to know. She cleared her throat. “Go on. It’s a nice story.”
He looked at the magazine page. “The father and mother touch each other but it’s good. They lay together at night, and in the morning, when he has to go to work they kiss goodbye. Together they will make another baby for their family.” He fell silent for a second then added, “That’s all.”
Sarah drew a deep breath and released it slowly, waiting for her voice to steady before she spoke. “It’s a very good story. Are those the things you want for yourself?”
He began folding the advertisement. “But I can’t have them,” he said matter-of-factly.
“Why not?”
He shrugged as if it was obvious and she remembered his earlier declaration , I’m not normal . She had to admit it was hard to picture this strange man living a normal family life in an average community. His differences were stamped all over his body as well as hidden deep inside him.
Sarah chose her next words carefully. “So, Mr. Reed let people come to your room and ... touch you sometimes?”
“When they paid extra.”
“Since you were young?”
“Yes.” He returned the advertisement to his pocket.
Sarah was shocked. She had heard suggestions of such perversions, but her knowledge of sex outside of the marital bed was limited. Her mother had given her brief, vague instructions before her wedding night and John had taught her the rest of what she knew.
Tom picked up the pencil and neatly copied an ‘A’ beside hers. “When I had visitors I got extra food,” he added casually.
Sarah felt sick. She didn’t know what to say. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
He glanced up with a puzzled frown. “Why?”
Her eyes welled with tears and she fought them back. She would not help him by making him feel pathetic. “For what happened to you. For e verything you had to live with.” And that I came to gape at you like everyone else, as though you were a sideshow attraction rather than a person.
He offered the pencil to her. “Show me more.”
Sarah understood. He was finished talking about his past. She tried to put the terrible things he’d told her out of her mind and turn her attention to teaching him the alphabet, but his words haunted her. When they paid extra.
She shuddered but took the pencil and wrote ‘B,’ both in uppercase and lowercase. By the end of an hour she was writing simple sentences like “The cat ate the rat” and Tom was reading them aloud. His mother must have long ago taught him the basics and he only needed a refresher to awaken that knowledge .
After their lesson, Sarah read another chapter of Tom Sawyer .
Outside the storm was getting closer . A rumble of distant thunder grew steadily louder. Flashes of lightning shone briefly through the window. At about ten thirty the storm finally broke. Thunder crashed almost overhead and gusts of wind billowed the curtains inward bringing damp fresh air into the room.
Sarah and Tom went around the house shutt ing windows, enclosing the house in stuffy humidity once more.
“Let’s sit out on the front porch. It’s too hot inside,” she suggested. She poured them each a glass of lemonade and they sat on the porch swing, watching the wind-driven rain wash across the yard. The rain smelled cool and a misty spray dampened their faces even in the shelter of the porch.
The proximity of Tom sitting beside her made the hair on her arm s prickle. She felt his presence, so vital and masculine and alive, in her very cells. Her body yearned for him. She longed to reach out for him and let nature guide them to what felt like an inevitable conclusion.
Being near him made her nervous, edgy, uncomfortable , yet at the same time, it seemed natural to sit with him in comfortable silence watching the storm. After about a half-hour the
He looked at the magazine page. “The father and mother touch each other but it’s good. They lay together at night, and in the morning, when he has to go to work they kiss goodbye. Together they will make another baby for their family.” He fell silent for a second then added, “That’s all.”
Sarah drew a deep breath and released it slowly, waiting for her voice to steady before she spoke. “It’s a very good story. Are those the things you want for yourself?”
He began folding the advertisement. “But I can’t have them,” he said matter-of-factly.
“Why not?”
He shrugged as if it was obvious and she remembered his earlier declaration , I’m not normal . She had to admit it was hard to picture this strange man living a normal family life in an average community. His differences were stamped all over his body as well as hidden deep inside him.
Sarah chose her next words carefully. “So, Mr. Reed let people come to your room and ... touch you sometimes?”
“When they paid extra.”
“Since you were young?”
“Yes.” He returned the advertisement to his pocket.
Sarah was shocked. She had heard suggestions of such perversions, but her knowledge of sex outside of the marital bed was limited. Her mother had given her brief, vague instructions before her wedding night and John had taught her the rest of what she knew.
Tom picked up the pencil and neatly copied an ‘A’ beside hers. “When I had visitors I got extra food,” he added casually.
Sarah felt sick. She didn’t know what to say. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
He glanced up with a puzzled frown. “Why?”
Her eyes welled with tears and she fought them back. She would not help him by making him feel pathetic. “For what happened to you. For e verything you had to live with.” And that I came to gape at you like everyone else, as though you were a sideshow attraction rather than a person.
He offered the pencil to her. “Show me more.”
Sarah understood. He was finished talking about his past. She tried to put the terrible things he’d told her out of her mind and turn her attention to teaching him the alphabet, but his words haunted her. When they paid extra.
She shuddered but took the pencil and wrote ‘B,’ both in uppercase and lowercase. By the end of an hour she was writing simple sentences like “The cat ate the rat” and Tom was reading them aloud. His mother must have long ago taught him the basics and he only needed a refresher to awaken that knowledge .
After their lesson, Sarah read another chapter of Tom Sawyer .
Outside the storm was getting closer . A rumble of distant thunder grew steadily louder. Flashes of lightning shone briefly through the window. At about ten thirty the storm finally broke. Thunder crashed almost overhead and gusts of wind billowed the curtains inward bringing damp fresh air into the room.
Sarah and Tom went around the house shutt ing windows, enclosing the house in stuffy humidity once more.
“Let’s sit out on the front porch. It’s too hot inside,” she suggested. She poured them each a glass of lemonade and they sat on the porch swing, watching the wind-driven rain wash across the yard. The rain smelled cool and a misty spray dampened their faces even in the shelter of the porch.
The proximity of Tom sitting beside her made the hair on her arm s prickle. She felt his presence, so vital and masculine and alive, in her very cells. Her body yearned for him. She longed to reach out for him and let nature guide them to what felt like an inevitable conclusion.
Being near him made her nervous, edgy, uncomfortable , yet at the same time, it seemed natural to sit with him in comfortable silence watching the storm. After about a half-hour the
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