Read Online The Confession by Domenic Stansberry - Free Book Online
Authors: Domenic Stansberry
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healing power of myth. “Healing the Demons Within,” it was called. Attended by teachers and shrinks and New Agers. This year, Elizabeth had been on a panel regarding the transformation stories: Jekyll & Hyde , Frankenstein , Little Red Riding Hood.
“Yes, you told me. I thought that was a daytime event. Over at five.”
“That’s true.”
She lounged in front of her mirror unbuttoning her blouse. She regarded herself with a wry smile.
“Where were you then?”
“Out to dinner.”
“With whom?”
“Fran.”
There was something coy in her expression.
“I don’t know if I believe you.”
“You have your nerve,” she said, then tossed her heels into the closet.
It was the kind of gesture she’d been making a lot these last few days, angry, with the source of the anger left unexpressed. Reflecting back, I realize I could have asked her what was on her mind, but I chose not to pursue the matter. Perhaps I already knew.
“Hard day?” I asked.
Elizabeth didn’t answer, but continued undressing. She undressed with her back to me and soon stood naked except for the strand of pearls. I watched her put on her robe: raw silk, very fine and elaborately embroidered—a gift from myself to her a few years back, something we had picked out together in a shop in Chinatown. I would have gone to her then: lifting the robe from behind, sliding my hand around her waist, down into the open fold—but she bristled away down the hall. She poured herself a glass of cold Chardonnay and went outside to the deck. From behind the glass door I watched as my wife took off the robe and slid into the Jacuzzi. A green mist rose from the churning water.
I followed her out.
“We should go someplace together,” I said. “Maybe to the coast.”
Elizabeth’s eyes were closed. She placed the glass of wine on the edge of the sauna now, her fingers still on the stem, and hung her head back, taking in the steam, letting her body go loose. Her neck was long and beautiful and she was wearing her father’s pearls. The prison lights glistened on the other side of the inlet, and I imagined all those men inside their cells, unable to see anything like this.
I had done the right things in regard to Sara, I thought. I had made the right decision—though it occurred to me as I looked at my wife that perhaps the decision was not altogether mine. Everything could change.
“We could spend a few days,” I said. “Maybe check out some property in Tomales. Just for fun.”
Back when we first got together, Elizabeth had talked often about going over to Tomales, buying a little place close to the water. On the other side of the mountain, where things were quieter. It was a dream of hers, to escape to the coast—but she was not ready, not yet, to give up her work at the college.
I undressed and stood for a second naked outside the tub, feeling the night air. Then I dipped in.
“Just the two of us,” I said. “We could spend some time together.”
Elizabeth’s eyes were still closed, her head back. My leg brushed against hers. I put my hand on her breast and kept it there and studied her open mouth, her turned cheek, and at the same time toyed with her father’s necklace between my fingers. I tugged gently on the strand and imagined it breaking apart then, the pearls disappearing into the water.
“Please,” she said. “Not now.”
She took another sip of her wine, a delicate wine, fragile and well made, then climbed out of the sauna, trembling as she put on her robe.
9 .
A few days later, I went to the courthouse to give my testimony in the Dillard Case. The Marin Civic Center was an unusual building, as I may have mentioned. A series of buildings really, interconnected, low and flat to the ground, trussed and arched in such a way so as to make it appear as if the buildings themselves were part of the hills. The walls were clay-colored, and the roofs were blue. A gilded tower, Hinduist in design but empty on the inside, without
“Yes, you told me. I thought that was a daytime event. Over at five.”
“That’s true.”
She lounged in front of her mirror unbuttoning her blouse. She regarded herself with a wry smile.
“Where were you then?”
“Out to dinner.”
“With whom?”
“Fran.”
There was something coy in her expression.
“I don’t know if I believe you.”
“You have your nerve,” she said, then tossed her heels into the closet.
It was the kind of gesture she’d been making a lot these last few days, angry, with the source of the anger left unexpressed. Reflecting back, I realize I could have asked her what was on her mind, but I chose not to pursue the matter. Perhaps I already knew.
“Hard day?” I asked.
Elizabeth didn’t answer, but continued undressing. She undressed with her back to me and soon stood naked except for the strand of pearls. I watched her put on her robe: raw silk, very fine and elaborately embroidered—a gift from myself to her a few years back, something we had picked out together in a shop in Chinatown. I would have gone to her then: lifting the robe from behind, sliding my hand around her waist, down into the open fold—but she bristled away down the hall. She poured herself a glass of cold Chardonnay and went outside to the deck. From behind the glass door I watched as my wife took off the robe and slid into the Jacuzzi. A green mist rose from the churning water.
I followed her out.
“We should go someplace together,” I said. “Maybe to the coast.”
Elizabeth’s eyes were closed. She placed the glass of wine on the edge of the sauna now, her fingers still on the stem, and hung her head back, taking in the steam, letting her body go loose. Her neck was long and beautiful and she was wearing her father’s pearls. The prison lights glistened on the other side of the inlet, and I imagined all those men inside their cells, unable to see anything like this.
I had done the right things in regard to Sara, I thought. I had made the right decision—though it occurred to me as I looked at my wife that perhaps the decision was not altogether mine. Everything could change.
“We could spend a few days,” I said. “Maybe check out some property in Tomales. Just for fun.”
Back when we first got together, Elizabeth had talked often about going over to Tomales, buying a little place close to the water. On the other side of the mountain, where things were quieter. It was a dream of hers, to escape to the coast—but she was not ready, not yet, to give up her work at the college.
I undressed and stood for a second naked outside the tub, feeling the night air. Then I dipped in.
“Just the two of us,” I said. “We could spend some time together.”
Elizabeth’s eyes were still closed, her head back. My leg brushed against hers. I put my hand on her breast and kept it there and studied her open mouth, her turned cheek, and at the same time toyed with her father’s necklace between my fingers. I tugged gently on the strand and imagined it breaking apart then, the pearls disappearing into the water.
“Please,” she said. “Not now.”
She took another sip of her wine, a delicate wine, fragile and well made, then climbed out of the sauna, trembling as she put on her robe.
9 .
A few days later, I went to the courthouse to give my testimony in the Dillard Case. The Marin Civic Center was an unusual building, as I may have mentioned. A series of buildings really, interconnected, low and flat to the ground, trussed and arched in such a way so as to make it appear as if the buildings themselves were part of the hills. The walls were clay-colored, and the roofs were blue. A gilded tower, Hinduist in design but empty on the inside, without
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