done?
Her period still hasnât arrived but that could be due to coming off the Pill â a fact, needless to say, she has kept from her husband. The day after the turtleâs death, however, she wakes up feeling nauseous.
Lorrie makes breakfast, feeling as if sheâs an actress in a TV commercial. Sunlight streams through the window. None of her family, sitting around the table, seems convincing; indeed, this morning theyâre behaving with unusual politeness, as if learnt from a script. Dean even unscrews the lid of the peanut butter for his sister.
When theyâve gone Lorrie sinks into the settee and remains there, motionless. From next door comes the whine of a power drill. A new couple has moved in and are fixing up the house. According to Kelda, across the street, the husband went to jail but found God there and now has a job in the municipal abattoir. Lorrie is sad to see Tyler go; his labyrinthine monologues had enlivened her lonely days. Heâs given her a couple of spliffs as a parting gift.
Iâm pregnant
. If she doesnât move she can control the fear. It requires strength and concentration, like holding down a tarpaulin over a struggling beast. Sheâs had panic attacks in the past but they were usually for no good reason. Thereâs plenty of reason for this one.
She concentrates on the streets of her childhood. She walks herself to the quarry, hand in hand with her brother. Itâs their favourite place. The sun is shining, the birds are singing, her hand is safe in his. She concentrates on every step of the way ⦠the mailboxes, the dusty verge ⦠the weed-choked empty lot where she once saw a snake ⦠the row of shrubs outside the trailer park where her friend Nomi lives.
Lorrie urges herself on. She tries to picture the quarry with its rope swing and burnt-out car, a place where she has known such joy, but it doesnât do the trick. The fear floods back.
Dope might help. It might help with the nausea too, so she fetches one of Tylerâs joints and lights up.
She takes a drag and her head swims. If only she could talk to somebody. She looks at moth-eaten Warrior, hanging on the wall. He returns her gaze with his dead glass eyes. A piece of tinsel from Christmas is still draped over his mane; it gives him a jaunty air. Mr Wang Lei works in Africa; apparently a lot of Chinese men do business there, Todd says theyâre taking over the continent. She wonders if her oriental impregnator has ever seen a lion. Todd says the Chinese grind up lion penises to make themselves virile; she knows itâs tigers but doesnât like to contradict her husband â thereâs
his
virility to consider.
It irks her, that she has to tiptoe around her husband to protect his pride. Her previous tenderness has evaporated. In fact she feels positively hostile. She knows this stems from guilt, that sheâs punishing him for her treachery. Knowing this, however, doesnât stop her. The resentment flares up, heating her face.
At dinner she drinks three cans of beer. Todd doesnât notice anything unusual in this; heâs got his head down, shovelling in his food. It irritates her, the way he chops up his spaghetti instead of twirling it around his fork; the guyâs such a hick. Heâs travelled the world and yet heâs learnt nothing; thatâs the army for you. Even Mr Wang Lei is more of a sophisticate â her Chinese conspirator, her husbandâs rival in her womb.
The kids are asleep. Lorrie and her husband are alone and she knows sheâs going to blurt out something stupid. Swaying slightly, she dumps the plates into the sink. Until recently she thought she was leaving this shabby, cramped kitchen for good. She would move into a brand-new home with a dishwasher and a view of the lake. Obscurely, she now seems to be blaming her husband for the failure of this dream. Whatâs happening to her?
She turns round. Todd sits at the
Her period still hasnât arrived but that could be due to coming off the Pill â a fact, needless to say, she has kept from her husband. The day after the turtleâs death, however, she wakes up feeling nauseous.
Lorrie makes breakfast, feeling as if sheâs an actress in a TV commercial. Sunlight streams through the window. None of her family, sitting around the table, seems convincing; indeed, this morning theyâre behaving with unusual politeness, as if learnt from a script. Dean even unscrews the lid of the peanut butter for his sister.
When theyâve gone Lorrie sinks into the settee and remains there, motionless. From next door comes the whine of a power drill. A new couple has moved in and are fixing up the house. According to Kelda, across the street, the husband went to jail but found God there and now has a job in the municipal abattoir. Lorrie is sad to see Tyler go; his labyrinthine monologues had enlivened her lonely days. Heâs given her a couple of spliffs as a parting gift.
Iâm pregnant
. If she doesnât move she can control the fear. It requires strength and concentration, like holding down a tarpaulin over a struggling beast. Sheâs had panic attacks in the past but they were usually for no good reason. Thereâs plenty of reason for this one.
She concentrates on the streets of her childhood. She walks herself to the quarry, hand in hand with her brother. Itâs their favourite place. The sun is shining, the birds are singing, her hand is safe in his. She concentrates on every step of the way ⦠the mailboxes, the dusty verge ⦠the weed-choked empty lot where she once saw a snake ⦠the row of shrubs outside the trailer park where her friend Nomi lives.
Lorrie urges herself on. She tries to picture the quarry with its rope swing and burnt-out car, a place where she has known such joy, but it doesnât do the trick. The fear floods back.
Dope might help. It might help with the nausea too, so she fetches one of Tylerâs joints and lights up.
She takes a drag and her head swims. If only she could talk to somebody. She looks at moth-eaten Warrior, hanging on the wall. He returns her gaze with his dead glass eyes. A piece of tinsel from Christmas is still draped over his mane; it gives him a jaunty air. Mr Wang Lei works in Africa; apparently a lot of Chinese men do business there, Todd says theyâre taking over the continent. She wonders if her oriental impregnator has ever seen a lion. Todd says the Chinese grind up lion penises to make themselves virile; she knows itâs tigers but doesnât like to contradict her husband â thereâs
his
virility to consider.
It irks her, that she has to tiptoe around her husband to protect his pride. Her previous tenderness has evaporated. In fact she feels positively hostile. She knows this stems from guilt, that sheâs punishing him for her treachery. Knowing this, however, doesnât stop her. The resentment flares up, heating her face.
At dinner she drinks three cans of beer. Todd doesnât notice anything unusual in this; heâs got his head down, shovelling in his food. It irritates her, the way he chops up his spaghetti instead of twirling it around his fork; the guyâs such a hick. Heâs travelled the world and yet heâs learnt nothing; thatâs the army for you. Even Mr Wang Lei is more of a sophisticate â her Chinese conspirator, her husbandâs rival in her womb.
The kids are asleep. Lorrie and her husband are alone and she knows sheâs going to blurt out something stupid. Swaying slightly, she dumps the plates into the sink. Until recently she thought she was leaving this shabby, cramped kitchen for good. She would move into a brand-new home with a dishwasher and a view of the lake. Obscurely, she now seems to be blaming her husband for the failure of this dream. Whatâs happening to her?
She turns round. Todd sits at the
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