Wild Things by Karin Kallmaker

Author:Karin Kallmaker [Kallmaker, Karin]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi, pdf
ISBN: 9781931513647
Amazon: 1931513643
Publisher: Bella Books
Published: 1997-01-02T00:00:00+00:00

* * * * *

Eric got back from Hong Kong the third week in October. He had been working almost nonstop on construction supervision. He would have to go back for several more weeks around Thanksgiving.

From the moment I saw him I felt myself divide into two people. I returned his warm hug and gentle kiss without a second thought. Another part of me compared his kiss to Renee's devouring passion and speculated how Sydney's kisses might feel. I felt no tension, only a kind of distance.

We had dinner, then drove all the way to Aurora where an art theater was showing The Lion in Winter on the big screen. I found myself sighing in the memorable scene where Eleanor examines her fading charms in a bronze mirror. The nearly sixty-year-old Hepburn never looked more beautiful to me. Her eyes were windows on the character she was creating. Henry called her conniving, deceitful, and manipulative. I preferred astute, political, and determined.

As we were leaving the theater, Eric asked, "Where are we going to get these costumes?"

"I know someone who is in the SCA. I'll bet she knows where we could get them."

"SCA? Some Costumes Available?"

I laughed. "Society for Creative Anachronism. It's a role-playing social club where people create characters from medieval history and dress up and have parties and are very particular about accuracy."

"That actually sounds like fun."

I' ve thought about joining, but it can be time consuming. Not to mention the required schizophrenia." I was growing more familiar with schizophrenia as the evening progressed.

"So you'll check that out? Let me know if I need to do anything. I'm glad you're going to come up to Lakeview for Halloween weekend. I think you'll really enjoy it."

I assured him I would, and part of me believed it while another part knew Sydney would be there. I asked him in to see my new apartment, and he gave it smiling approval, saying its simplicity suited me. Contrary to my mother's expectation, he did not try to ravage me. We enjoyed a cup of coffee, and he took his leave with one of his usual gentle kisses.

Even as I told myself that we'd had a pleasant evening, I was walking to my desk, opening the top drawer, and taking out the Dignity flyer. The very nice man who answered the twenty-four-hour hotline gave me the address of the next support group meeting. I went to bed, feeling like a sleepwalker.

I had lurid, childhood-type nightmares in which flames, horned demons, and the thundering voice of God (sounding very much like my father) boomed at me in a language I didn't recognize but understood. One phrase was clear: It is an abomination, repeated again and again. In the morning I laughed at the images, chagrined that my psyche was so obvious.

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