"Bradley Denton - We Love Lydia Love" - читать интересную книгу автора (Denton Bradley)

look seven feet tall, but she’s no more than five-four. Otherwise, she is as she
appears on the tube. Her hair is long, thick, and red. Her eyes are green. Her skin is
the color of ivory. Her lips are so full that she always seems to be pouting. I would
think she was beautiful even if I hadn’t admired her for so long.

I meaning me. Willie.

You are Christopher.

To Lydia I’ll be Christopher. But to myself I can be Willie.

You are Christopher.

“I didn’t believe it when Daniels called,” Lydia says. She’s still sobbing. “I
thought he was mind fucking me like he usually does.”

Say “That son of a bitch.” We hate Danny Daniels.

“That son of a bitch.” It seems ungrateful, considering that Daniels has just
now returned us to her.

She’s trembling. Hold her tighter.

A moment ago she was crushing me, but now she seems so fragile that I’m
afraid I’ll hurt her. It’s as if she’s two different women.

And why not? I’m two different men.

Carry her to the bedroom. When she gets all soft and girly like this, she wants
us to take charge. You’ll know when she’s tired of it.

She weighs nothing. I carry her into the big limestone house, leaving the June
heat for cool air that makes me shiver. When I kick the door shut I see that the
stained-glass eye is staring at me on this side too. I turn away from it and go through
the tiled foyer into the huge front room with the twenty-toot ceiling, the picture
windows, the fireplace, the expensive AV components, and the plush couches.

No. Not in here. When she was a child, she went to her bedroom to feel safe.
So take her to the bedroom. It’s down the long hall, third door on the right.

I know where it is, and I’ve already changed direction. But the chip’s
yammering makes me stumble, and Lydia’s head bumps against the wall. She yelps.

“Jesus, I’m sorry,” I say, and think of an excuse. “My leg’s still not right.”

“I know,” Lydia says. “I know they hurt you.”

Who are “they,” I wonder? There was a plane crash, and — in this new
version of Christopher’s life — a village. A war was being fought in the ice and
snow around the village, but all of my injuries were from the crash. The villagers did