The Private Lives of Pippa Lee Read Online Free Page B
sunny landscape of their daily lives. Once, watching a ship disappear over the lip of the ocean, Grace said to Pippa, âI own you as far as the eye can see.â
Though she did not recognize it, in some secret part of Pippaâs mind, her daughterâs wish to possess her utterly echoed another love, a deadly, sweet, and voracious passion that had all but suffocated Pippa in her youth.
Yet, never mind, in spite of it all, now that Grace was grown she was a triumph! So sophisticated, so courageous. Pippa found herself watching her sneakily, out of the corner of her eye. And occasionally, in her daughterâs recklessness, her lust for adventure, her desire for experience, she recognized herself, a self that had vanished long ago. How had it happened? How could she have changed so much? She remembered the morning she looked in the mirror and saw three white, bent hairs sticking out of her head. They had looked obscene to her, like stray pubic hairs escaping from the crotch of a bathing suit. Now, beneath the reddish blond tint, her hair was white. Pippa was a placid, middle-aged woman. And Herb was eighty years old. The thought of it made her laugh. Life was getting so unreal.More and more, the past was flooding into her, diluting the present like water poured into wine.
Herb walked in then. Pippa turned. âDo you need anything?â she asked.
Herb sat down and patted the pillow beside him. âHowâs my pal?â he asked.
âIâm okay,â she said.
âAre you sad that youâre living in Wrinkle Village?â
âI have to fill up my days more. But Iâm not sad. I think itâs sort of romantic, starting again like this, with so little stuff.â Herb smiled sadly and lay back on the cushions. His skin, bronzed from all that time on the patio, was creased like a rock face, his eyes points of light.
âAlways looking on the bright side,â he said to her.
âWhy canât it be?â There was a pause.
âMaybe we should move back to the city,â he said.
She laughed. âWe just sold our apartment!â
âSo we buy another one.â
âReally?â
âNo, of course not. Itâs just hard thinking this is the end of the line.â
Pippa put her hand on his knee and looked around the room. She wondered what she could make for him. Maybe a glass of carrot juice. She had begun to feel a kind of desperation when they were alone sometimes, as if everything that they could possibly say to each other had already been said, and now language was useless.
âThat was good cheese yesterday,â Herb said.
âIt was vacherin â I was so excited to find it.â
âI love that cheese.â
Another Woman
A week later Pippa woke up with one arm asleep, pinned beneath her side. She felt as though her body had been crushed into the mattress through the night, her face mashed into the pillow. There was a rotten taste in her mouth. She sat up stiffly, shaking the blood back into her numb limb, which flopped helplessly from side to side like a separate being.
In the kitchen, a thick, yellow continent of what looked like scrambled egg was congealing in the center of the Formica table. A box of chocolates lay open and ransacked in the middle of the mess. A fork was balanced on the edge of a chair.
Remembering the surveillance camera, Pippa snapped her head back and looked up. The thing stared down at her with its cold glass eye, the red Record light blinking ominously. She couldnât bear for Herb to witness himself like this. Every day she would wake up extra early; if there was evidence, she planned to clean it up, erase the tape. He would never know. Pippa wiped up the mess as fast as she could, scraped off a smear of dried egg yolk with her fingernail, her vision blurred with tears.
She went into the den and shut the door, then shoved the tape into the mouth of the VCR. Her heart was pumping wildly in her chest. Seen
Though she did not recognize it, in some secret part of Pippaâs mind, her daughterâs wish to possess her utterly echoed another love, a deadly, sweet, and voracious passion that had all but suffocated Pippa in her youth.
Yet, never mind, in spite of it all, now that Grace was grown she was a triumph! So sophisticated, so courageous. Pippa found herself watching her sneakily, out of the corner of her eye. And occasionally, in her daughterâs recklessness, her lust for adventure, her desire for experience, she recognized herself, a self that had vanished long ago. How had it happened? How could she have changed so much? She remembered the morning she looked in the mirror and saw three white, bent hairs sticking out of her head. They had looked obscene to her, like stray pubic hairs escaping from the crotch of a bathing suit. Now, beneath the reddish blond tint, her hair was white. Pippa was a placid, middle-aged woman. And Herb was eighty years old. The thought of it made her laugh. Life was getting so unreal.More and more, the past was flooding into her, diluting the present like water poured into wine.
Herb walked in then. Pippa turned. âDo you need anything?â she asked.
Herb sat down and patted the pillow beside him. âHowâs my pal?â he asked.
âIâm okay,â she said.
âAre you sad that youâre living in Wrinkle Village?â
âI have to fill up my days more. But Iâm not sad. I think itâs sort of romantic, starting again like this, with so little stuff.â Herb smiled sadly and lay back on the cushions. His skin, bronzed from all that time on the patio, was creased like a rock face, his eyes points of light.
âAlways looking on the bright side,â he said to her.
âWhy canât it be?â There was a pause.
âMaybe we should move back to the city,â he said.
She laughed. âWe just sold our apartment!â
âSo we buy another one.â
âReally?â
âNo, of course not. Itâs just hard thinking this is the end of the line.â
Pippa put her hand on his knee and looked around the room. She wondered what she could make for him. Maybe a glass of carrot juice. She had begun to feel a kind of desperation when they were alone sometimes, as if everything that they could possibly say to each other had already been said, and now language was useless.
âThat was good cheese yesterday,â Herb said.
âIt was vacherin â I was so excited to find it.â
âI love that cheese.â
Another Woman
A week later Pippa woke up with one arm asleep, pinned beneath her side. She felt as though her body had been crushed into the mattress through the night, her face mashed into the pillow. There was a rotten taste in her mouth. She sat up stiffly, shaking the blood back into her numb limb, which flopped helplessly from side to side like a separate being.
In the kitchen, a thick, yellow continent of what looked like scrambled egg was congealing in the center of the Formica table. A box of chocolates lay open and ransacked in the middle of the mess. A fork was balanced on the edge of a chair.
Remembering the surveillance camera, Pippa snapped her head back and looked up. The thing stared down at her with its cold glass eye, the red Record light blinking ominously. She couldnât bear for Herb to witness himself like this. Every day she would wake up extra early; if there was evidence, she planned to clean it up, erase the tape. He would never know. Pippa wiped up the mess as fast as she could, scraped off a smear of dried egg yolk with her fingernail, her vision blurred with tears.
She went into the den and shut the door, then shoved the tape into the mouth of the VCR. Her heart was pumping wildly in her chest. Seen
Readers choose
Bill Pronzini
Lynne Heitman
Wendy Etherington
Dana V. Moison
Robert Don Hughes
Jerry Ahern
Allan Massie
Benjamin Wallace