Study in Hysteria by Kathleen Collins

Author:Kathleen Collins [Collins, Kathleen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-02-13T16:17:13+00:00

“Where is Carl?” asked Flora, craning her head toward one of the two bedrooms whose doorways she could see from the kitchen, thinking he might be in there reading one of his heavy books about the war or silently watching a news debate program.

“Well, he’s at work, naturally. Did you forget the day?” asked Ruth who was now making a pot of coffee with her electric percolator, a device that Flora secretly abhorred.

She had forgotten the day. Just a few hours ago she was giving Will a perfunctory peck on the cheek as he went off to the office as well as his three-day reprieve from her, she still in her housecoat, and flustered by the arrival of the painters. Of course it was a weekday. Carl was at his office, taking care of nebulous business management affairs, back in the very direction from which Flora had just driven. So the two were here alone which, even though Carl was the nicest man and very easy to be around, made Flora relax even more.

“Let’s go to Skaneateles for lunch!” Flora suggested, pitching it as an adventure. It was a thirty-minute drive, two Finger Lakes away, but the big old hotel there was one of her favorite places to visit. It felt special and mature, matching the image she had of what her adult life would look like back when she was in her teens.

“My hair is a mess,” said Ruth, patting her perfectly fine-looking grayish-blonde do, the same non-color that Flora had and in the same neat but character-free style, short and somewhat curled. For both Flora and Ruth, their hair was not a defining feature the way it was for their older sister, Lillian, who was blessed with a very dark brown. Lillian continued to color it the same shade so that a gray hair had never seen the light of day on her head. Flora was certainly the most vain of the three sisters, but she channeled that energy into caring about her outfits rather than her hair. Still, Ruth fretted about how she looked, simply adding it to her list of worries, a guiding document without which she might be lost or mute.

“Stop it. You look fine. Don’t even change your clothes. That’s a beautiful color combination,” said Flora, gesturing in an authoritative way at her sister’s ensemble.

“I have to change. I was making up the bed and doing all sorts of things this morning, and I need something fresh. I wouldn’t want to wear slacks to the Sherwood either.”

“I won’t change if you won’t. And I drove all the way here in this,” said Flora opening her hands to emphasize and display her outfit which was not much different from Ruth’s except Flora’s slacks were burgundy, and her flowered blouse was of actual silk and had long sleeves and a larger, more abstract floral pattern in oranges and reds. And of course, Flora wore heeled pumps, in oxblood. “It’s not the 1950s, Ruth. We can wear pants.

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