"Lisa Tuttle - Pathology" - читать интересную книгу автора (Tuttle Lisa)

“Lizard Lust”: First published inInterzone , September 1990.

“Bits and Pieces”: First published inPulphouse No. 9, November 1990.

“Honey, I’m Home!”: First published inIn Dreams , ed. Kim Newman and Paul McAuley, Gollancz
1992.

“In Translation”: First published inZenith , ed. David Garnett, Sphere Books (UK) 1989.

“Replacements”: First published inMetahorror , ed. Dennis Etchison, Dell 1992.


My Pathology
It may not be a truth universally acknowledged, but people value more that which is not easily won.
Challenge and difficulty add to the appeal. As I once said to Saskia, unavailable men are always more
attractive. I’d never known Saskia to fall for a man who wasn’t already committed elsewhere—but she
just said, “Ifthat’s your pathology.”
Certainly it was hers. The way she ignored perfectly nice men in favor of bastards belonging to someone
else . . .

But love is a basic human need. Does it make sense to call it a disease?
***


Daniel and I were attracted to each other from the start, and there didn’t seem to be anything difficult or
inherently unavailable about him. The one slight little hitch—that the woman he described as his
ex-girlfriend hadn’tquite let him go—probably added to his attraction; I was touched by his tender
concern for her feelings.
As he explained it: “We were together for nearly three years. At one time I thought we’d get married.
But . . . We had a major disagreement, one of those things where there can be no compromise. I won’t
go into the details. Anyway, she knows it’s over, knows we don’t have a future together, and we’re
not . . . not sleeping together, you know, but she’s afraid of being alone. She needs to know that I’m still
her friend. I don’t love her anymore, but I feel responsible. She’s had a hard time lately.”

He told me about her (Michele, her name was) before we’d actually become lovers, on an evening when
the possibility was quivering between us, so I knew his intentions toward me must be serious.

“Are you going to tell her about me?”

“I’ve already told her I’ve met someone.”

My heart leapt and I went to kiss him, this unknown woman’s man who was now mine.
***


Daniel worked in an office in central London, as did I, but he lived out in Metroland—nearest station,
Rayner’s Lane—where the dear old London underground emerges above ground, transformed into a
suburban commuter train. The rails ran behind his house, so we were treated to a view of his back
garden a good quarter hour before we could expect to arrive at the front door, on foot, from the station.
Once, on his way home, Daniel had seen someone entering by the back door, and even though he