Lost Futures by Lisa Tuttle

Lost Futures by Lisa Tuttle

Author:Lisa Tuttle [Tuttle, Lisa]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Quercus
Published: 2012-03-15T04:00:00+00:00


CHAPTER EIGHT

On the flight home, she read a book Bob had given her, a cozy English mystery the details of which would probably vanish from her mind seconds after she turned over the last page, but it made an escape from the tedium of the journey. She was eager to get home, back to real life. Home, for all her uncertainties, was where she had chosen to live.

As the plane began its descent, she looked at the snow-covered fields below, heart lifting. She might complain about the long, frozen winters – she would always complain about the winters – but she loved this landscape. Her parents were of the south, but this was her birthright. She thought of the warmth of an ordinary evening indoors by the fire: outside the snowy dark, the chimney sending up a column of smoke to mingle with the heavier clouds. She thought of Sophie, and of Molly’s beautiful, round, beaming face. The memories suffused her with love and warmth, and she was eager to land, eager to get out of the nowhere of this flight and return to her real life.

The flight was twenty-five minutes late, but Sophie, waiting, looked relaxed. And she was alone.

‘So where’s the baby?’ Clare asked after a hug.

‘What?’ A puzzled half-smile, as at a joke she thought she ought to understand.

‘What. Molly, who else?’

‘Molly?’

‘Molly! Your little girl! Have you been taking drugs?’

The smile faded from Sophie’s lips and eyes as she realized this was no joke, and Clare felt a chill. ‘Oh, Christ,’ she said softly. ‘It was so real.’

‘What was?’

‘The memories … of her, of us. I need to sit down.’

Sophie supported her, an arm around her waist, to a bank of molded plastic chairs. ‘Want me to get you some coffee? Water?’

‘I wasn’t drinking. And I didn’t fall asleep on the plane. I wasn’t dreaming. I was reading practically the whole time, and then just before we landed I was looking forward to getting home, looking forward to seeing you again – you and your little girl.’

‘I’d really like a Diet Pepsi,’ Sophie said suddenly. ‘Do you want anything? I could bring it back here if you want to stay.’

‘I’m all right,’ she said, although she still felt her whole body buzzing. ‘I can walk.’

‘Let me carry your bag.’

Resettled in the almost-empty snack bar, their drinks in front of them, neither at first spoke. Sophie inhaled almost half of her cold drink through a straw while Clare stared at the thin spirals of steam rising off the black, glossy surface of her coffee, remembering life with Sophie and Molly, and how happy they had been.

She remembered Molly’s words: ‘Clare’ (sounded like ‘Care’), ‘Sophie’ (sounded like ‘Opie’), ‘Light,’ ‘Record,’ ‘Go,’ ‘Please,’ and a few more. She had been meaning to ask if she’d learned any new ones while she was away. And she had brought her presents –

No she hadn’t. There was no stuffed seal and no tape of songs from Sesame Street in her bag. The love



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