Read Online Terminal Experiment by Robert J. Sawyer - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Robert J. Sawyer
Ads: Link
going back to Hans?”
“I don’t know. Maybe…”
“Yes?”
“Maybe it was just that Hans seemed more the kind of guy I deserved.”
“Because he treated you terribly.”
“I guess.”
“Because he treated you like your father.”
Cathy nodded.
“We have to do something about your self-esteem, Cathy. We have to make you realize that you deserve to be treated with respect.”
Cathy’s voice was small. “But I don’t…”
Danita let out a slow, whispery sigh. “We’ve got our work cut out for us.”
Later that evening, Peter and Cathy were sitting in their living room, Peter on the couch and Cathy alone in the love seat across the room.
Peter didn’t know what was going to happen, what the future held. He was still trying to deal with it all. He’d always tried to be a good husband, always tried to show a genuine interest in her job. There was no reason to change that, he figured, and so, as he had often done in the past, he asked, “How was work today?”
Cathy put down her reader. “Fine.” She paused. “Toby brought in fresh strawberries.”
Peter nodded.
“But,” she said, “I left early.”
“Oh?”
“I, ah, went to see a counselor.”
Peter was surprised. “You mean like a therapist?”
“Sort of. She works for the Family Service Association — I found them using directory assistance.”
“Counselor…” said Peter, chewing over the word. Fascinating. He met her eyes. “I would have gone with you, if you’d asked.”
She smiled briefly but warmly. “I know you would have. But, ah, I wanted to sort some things out for myself.”
“How did it go?”
She looked at her lap. “Okay, I guess.”
“Oh?” Peter leaned forward, concerned.
“It was a little upsetting.” She lifted her gaze. Her voice was small. “Do you think I have low self-esteem?”
Peter was quiet for a moment. “I, ah, have always thought that perhaps you underestimated yourself.” He knew that was as far as he should go.
Cathy nodded. “Danita — that’s the counselor — she thinks it’s related to my relationship with my father.”
The first thought in Peter’s mind was a snide comment about Freudians. But then the full measure of what Cathy said hit him. “She’s right,” Peter said, eyebrows lifting. “I hadn’t seen it before, but of course she’s right. He treats you and your sister like crap. Like you had been boarders, not his children.”
“Marissa is in therapy, too, you know.”
Peter hadn’t known, but he nodded. “It makes sense. Christ, how could you have a positive self-image, growing up in an environment like that? And your mother — ” Peter saw Cathy’s face harden and he stopped himself. “Sorry, but as much as I like her, Bunny is not, well, let’s say she’s not the ideal role model for the twenty-first-century woman. She’s never worked outside the home, and, after all, your father doesn’t seem to treat her much better than he treated you or your sister.”
Cathy said nothing.
It was obvious now, all of this. “God damn him,” said Peter, getting to his feet, pacing back and forth. He stopped and stared at the Alex Colville painting behind the couch. “God damn him to hell.”
CHAPTER 8
Tuesday was the standard night for Peter and Sarkar to have dinner together. Sarkar’s wife Raheema took a course on Tuesdays, and Peter and Cathy had always given each other time to pursue separate interests. Peter was more relaxed this evening, now that he’d decided not to discuss Cathy’s infidelity with Sarkar. They hashed through more prosaic family news, international politics, the Blue Jays’ stunning performance and the Leafs’ lousy one. Finally, Peter looked across the table and cleared his throat. “What do you know about near-death experiences?”
Sarkar was having lentil soup this evening. “They’re a crock.”
“I thought you believed in that kind of stuff.”
Sarkar made a pained face. “Just because I’m religious
“I don’t know. Maybe…”
“Yes?”
“Maybe it was just that Hans seemed more the kind of guy I deserved.”
“Because he treated you terribly.”
“I guess.”
“Because he treated you like your father.”
Cathy nodded.
“We have to do something about your self-esteem, Cathy. We have to make you realize that you deserve to be treated with respect.”
Cathy’s voice was small. “But I don’t…”
Danita let out a slow, whispery sigh. “We’ve got our work cut out for us.”
Later that evening, Peter and Cathy were sitting in their living room, Peter on the couch and Cathy alone in the love seat across the room.
Peter didn’t know what was going to happen, what the future held. He was still trying to deal with it all. He’d always tried to be a good husband, always tried to show a genuine interest in her job. There was no reason to change that, he figured, and so, as he had often done in the past, he asked, “How was work today?”
Cathy put down her reader. “Fine.” She paused. “Toby brought in fresh strawberries.”
Peter nodded.
“But,” she said, “I left early.”
“Oh?”
“I, ah, went to see a counselor.”
Peter was surprised. “You mean like a therapist?”
“Sort of. She works for the Family Service Association — I found them using directory assistance.”
“Counselor…” said Peter, chewing over the word. Fascinating. He met her eyes. “I would have gone with you, if you’d asked.”
She smiled briefly but warmly. “I know you would have. But, ah, I wanted to sort some things out for myself.”
“How did it go?”
She looked at her lap. “Okay, I guess.”
“Oh?” Peter leaned forward, concerned.
“It was a little upsetting.” She lifted her gaze. Her voice was small. “Do you think I have low self-esteem?”
Peter was quiet for a moment. “I, ah, have always thought that perhaps you underestimated yourself.” He knew that was as far as he should go.
Cathy nodded. “Danita — that’s the counselor — she thinks it’s related to my relationship with my father.”
The first thought in Peter’s mind was a snide comment about Freudians. But then the full measure of what Cathy said hit him. “She’s right,” Peter said, eyebrows lifting. “I hadn’t seen it before, but of course she’s right. He treats you and your sister like crap. Like you had been boarders, not his children.”
“Marissa is in therapy, too, you know.”
Peter hadn’t known, but he nodded. “It makes sense. Christ, how could you have a positive self-image, growing up in an environment like that? And your mother — ” Peter saw Cathy’s face harden and he stopped himself. “Sorry, but as much as I like her, Bunny is not, well, let’s say she’s not the ideal role model for the twenty-first-century woman. She’s never worked outside the home, and, after all, your father doesn’t seem to treat her much better than he treated you or your sister.”
Cathy said nothing.
It was obvious now, all of this. “God damn him,” said Peter, getting to his feet, pacing back and forth. He stopped and stared at the Alex Colville painting behind the couch. “God damn him to hell.”
CHAPTER 8
Tuesday was the standard night for Peter and Sarkar to have dinner together. Sarkar’s wife Raheema took a course on Tuesdays, and Peter and Cathy had always given each other time to pursue separate interests. Peter was more relaxed this evening, now that he’d decided not to discuss Cathy’s infidelity with Sarkar. They hashed through more prosaic family news, international politics, the Blue Jays’ stunning performance and the Leafs’ lousy one. Finally, Peter looked across the table and cleared his throat. “What do you know about near-death experiences?”
Sarkar was having lentil soup this evening. “They’re a crock.”
“I thought you believed in that kind of stuff.”
Sarkar made a pained face. “Just because I’m religious
Similar Books
