Landscape: Memory

Read Online Landscape: Memory by Matthew Stadler, Columbia University. Writing Division - Free Book Online

Book: Landscape: Memory by Matthew Stadler, Columbia University. Writing Division Read Free Book Online
Authors: Matthew Stadler, Columbia University. Writing Division
Tags: Young men
Ads: Link
moonless mountain night, in the shadows of the sharp tooth of Mount Blanc, the good doctor staggered across the rugged snows to a fate he knew not yet. And in the distance, moving with a staglike swiftness, the form of a woman, much larger and more agile than a normal woman, leaping across the deadly frozen crags toward him."
     
    The rendezvous was played out in darkness.
    "Why do you hunt me?" the doctor asked, lighting, inexplicably, a cigarette. The orange tip glowed, bobbing and floating there in the indistinct night. The cigarette passed, it appeared, to the monster.
    "You are as the only parent of me," she began, drawing a deep breath of smoke, illuminating her soft face in the orange glow. "You have abandoned me. I am an orphan, helpless, friendless, a monster in this cold world." She flicked a bit of ash to the floor. "You will give in to my one request, as only human decency demands."
    Duncan began a distant howling, the soft cry of the glacial winds sweeping across the broken ice floes, whistling beside the jagged peaks.
    "You torment me," the doctor whispered. "All I value has fallen into your hands." He took the cigarette and held it, undrawn for a moment. "To be protecting what I love most, I will have no choice. What is your request?"
    "I require a mate," my mother said. "One as ugly and unwanted as I, one as ill-fit for this world." She rose and walked to the window, a sillhouette against the evening sky. "You must build me a wife."
    The house was hushed as the doctor took a last drag and flicked the spent cigarette out the window.
    "It is done, I have no choice," he said.

    3 APRIL 1915
    Today I came home from school at lunchtime, which is a very special thing and which I was allowed to do only on account of my mother asking. Mother and Father were both at home and sitting there very stiff and formal with little sandwiches with no crusts and a fruit bowl and soup already served, just sitting there and not eating really except that my father had already finished his soup.
    I could tell straightaway that someone had died or something. Mother swept across the room to me, cooing pumpkin this and pumpkin that and brushing her powdered hand across my cheek. She was all done up with lavender water.
    "I'm moving to Bolinas, little fish," my father announced before I'd even sat down. "Your mother will be living with Mr. Taqdir." And I just stood there and breathed while they both watched in silence. The windows were wide open onto the spring day and birds cheeped and chirped, fluttering past to the feeders. Hummingbirds hummed, poking their long noses into the honeysuckle trailing up the corner of our house and wafting spring smells in all directions. There was even a soft wind to stir the branches and I sat down with no appetite and little distinct feeling, just a vague dread and curiosity.
    "Why are you living with Mr. Taqdir?" I asked my mother stupidly.
    She breathed a quick breath and looked to my father, who was busy with a little sandwich. "Certainly, pumpkin," she began, turning toward me, "certainly You've aware of my fondness for Mr. Taqdir." She paused for assistance, but I sat in dumb silence, unable and unwilling to help her.
    "Yes?" I prompted.
    "Your father and I, dearest," she began again. "Your father and I have agreed that it would be healthy for me to explore my feelings for Mr. Taqdir, in a less encumbered atmosphere." She smiled, as if this were a gift she'd given me.
    I still didn't understand, but couldn't find the words to say so. I looked at my father and he shrugged a little shrug, nodding his head to the side and brushing the crumbs from off his hands.
    "They're sleeping together. Max," he said. "They're lovers. I'd rather not stick around for it." Mother crinkled her brow at him. "Anyhow, it's a beautiful time of year to be in Bolinas. I can get a lot done up there."
     
    I realized I'd been squashing a little sandwich throughout the conversation. Its smooth dry white-bread face had turned a

Similar Books

Northern Escape

Jennifer LaBrecque

Reckoning

Kate Cary

Bad Mouth

Angela McCallister

.45-Caliber Desperado

Peter Brandvold

Animal Kingdom

Stephen Sewell

The nanny murders

Merry Bloch Jones