Read Online Tigers in Red Weather by Liza Klaussmann - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Liza Klaussmann
Ads: Link
said, not looking at her.
“You don’t owe him anything. I know you think you do, but you have a right to be happy, too.”
“I don’t think you’re really one to be dispensing marital advice.”
It was the first time in their lives that Nick felt something akin to contempt in Helena’s voice, and it took her aback.
“I just want you to be happy.” She felt her own temper rise.
“You don’t know anything about it.” Helena looked directly at her. “Nothing makes you happy except what you don’t have. You’ve never known how to do anything but to take and take and then ask for more. You have everything and you act like it’s nothing. So how would you know what makes me or anyone else happy?”
Nick was stunned. “I guess I should be glad that we’re finally telling the truth,” she said, tasting metal in her mouth. “Since we’re not mincing words, your neediness is what makes you so goddamn self-centered that you can’t see past your sorry little world. I’m supposed to be happy just because I have more than you? For heaven’s sakes, listen to yourself.”
“No, you listen to yourself,” Helena said, rising. “I’m going to bed.”
They had made their apologies in the morning, and kissed warmly at South Station, but the episode had left Nick wondering how well she did know her cousin’s heart.
“The birds are in full cry during the breeding season, after which the cry is seldom if ever heard; and this being the principal indication of the birds’ presence, it is difficult to say at what precise time they depart, so silently and furtively do they slip away from our midst.”
Nick slid her mother’s silver letter opener under the fold of the first letter in her pile. There was no return address and her hand shook as she tried to pull the card out. She knew it would just be an invitation to a cocktail party thrown by the wife of one of Hughes’s colleagues, or a note from a neighbor on the Island reporting on her hydrangea, but she felt her mouth go dry nonetheless. Ever since the Letter, as she thought of it, she found this dread creeping up on her when confronted by an unknown sender.
“Don’t be a silly goose,” she told herself firmly, but felt unconvinced.
She had to put the card down and stare out the window for a minute before she could read it.
Nicky dear ,
Tea on Wednesday?
4 p.m .
Love ,
Birdie
Nick laughed with relief. Just tea, just Birdie. It was fine. She felt elated, high. Hughes would be home soon, she had baked his favorite cookies and they were having a baby. It was fine. Everything was just fine.
The Letter had arrived on a Tuesday five months ago, during an unseasonably cold September. She had been on the fence about whether to take the pot roast out of the freezer or make a run to the butcher for lamb chops before Hughes got home, leaning toward the pot roast, because it meant she would have time to go buy some new gloves in Harvard Square instead.
She had thought, I’ll just open the mail first, and then decide . It had been the third letter in her pile. It was a bulky, brown envelope, almost a parcel. It was addressed to Hughes, but it was handwritteninstead of typed, so she knew it wasn’t a bill. Also, it had been forwarded on from the base in Green Cove Springs, and she had been afraid that it might be a letter from Charlie Wells, perhaps an act of revenge for her behavior after their lunch together.
The minute her hand felt the expensive correspondence paper inside, however, she knew it couldn’t be from Charlie. The first thing she noticed was the initials at the top, ELB . Frowning, Nick scanned down the card to the slanted, elegant script.
I know I said I wouldn’t write. The world’s not on fire anymore .
But I still love you .
I wanted you to know that, wherever you are .
Besides, everyone deserves to be happy .
Nick reached her hand back into the envelope and pulled out a silver skeleton key attached to a brass plate that read C
“You don’t owe him anything. I know you think you do, but you have a right to be happy, too.”
“I don’t think you’re really one to be dispensing marital advice.”
It was the first time in their lives that Nick felt something akin to contempt in Helena’s voice, and it took her aback.
“I just want you to be happy.” She felt her own temper rise.
“You don’t know anything about it.” Helena looked directly at her. “Nothing makes you happy except what you don’t have. You’ve never known how to do anything but to take and take and then ask for more. You have everything and you act like it’s nothing. So how would you know what makes me or anyone else happy?”
Nick was stunned. “I guess I should be glad that we’re finally telling the truth,” she said, tasting metal in her mouth. “Since we’re not mincing words, your neediness is what makes you so goddamn self-centered that you can’t see past your sorry little world. I’m supposed to be happy just because I have more than you? For heaven’s sakes, listen to yourself.”
“No, you listen to yourself,” Helena said, rising. “I’m going to bed.”
They had made their apologies in the morning, and kissed warmly at South Station, but the episode had left Nick wondering how well she did know her cousin’s heart.
“The birds are in full cry during the breeding season, after which the cry is seldom if ever heard; and this being the principal indication of the birds’ presence, it is difficult to say at what precise time they depart, so silently and furtively do they slip away from our midst.”
Nick slid her mother’s silver letter opener under the fold of the first letter in her pile. There was no return address and her hand shook as she tried to pull the card out. She knew it would just be an invitation to a cocktail party thrown by the wife of one of Hughes’s colleagues, or a note from a neighbor on the Island reporting on her hydrangea, but she felt her mouth go dry nonetheless. Ever since the Letter, as she thought of it, she found this dread creeping up on her when confronted by an unknown sender.
“Don’t be a silly goose,” she told herself firmly, but felt unconvinced.
She had to put the card down and stare out the window for a minute before she could read it.
Nicky dear ,
Tea on Wednesday?
4 p.m .
Love ,
Birdie
Nick laughed with relief. Just tea, just Birdie. It was fine. She felt elated, high. Hughes would be home soon, she had baked his favorite cookies and they were having a baby. It was fine. Everything was just fine.
The Letter had arrived on a Tuesday five months ago, during an unseasonably cold September. She had been on the fence about whether to take the pot roast out of the freezer or make a run to the butcher for lamb chops before Hughes got home, leaning toward the pot roast, because it meant she would have time to go buy some new gloves in Harvard Square instead.
She had thought, I’ll just open the mail first, and then decide . It had been the third letter in her pile. It was a bulky, brown envelope, almost a parcel. It was addressed to Hughes, but it was handwritteninstead of typed, so she knew it wasn’t a bill. Also, it had been forwarded on from the base in Green Cove Springs, and she had been afraid that it might be a letter from Charlie Wells, perhaps an act of revenge for her behavior after their lunch together.
The minute her hand felt the expensive correspondence paper inside, however, she knew it couldn’t be from Charlie. The first thing she noticed was the initials at the top, ELB . Frowning, Nick scanned down the card to the slanted, elegant script.
I know I said I wouldn’t write. The world’s not on fire anymore .
But I still love you .
I wanted you to know that, wherever you are .
Besides, everyone deserves to be happy .
Nick reached her hand back into the envelope and pulled out a silver skeleton key attached to a brass plate that read C
Similar Books
