![]() ![]() Outside her loft, the stink of singed oil and rotting vegetables settled. ![]() You busy these days? I thought we might be able to hook up. OK, all the expended selves that would never again fit into the rag box of a single curriculum vitae.Īdie. Tag-team remembrance dissolved the years between them. What on earth have you been doing withĭoing. Her voice skidded away from her, a gypsum imitation of pleasure's bronze. He, she, and the man who'd live long enough to become Adie's ex-husband. To live the rest of their lives together, once. Recollection swamped her carefully packed sandbags. Housemate and collaborator? Mahler Haus? Don't tell me: you'veĪ vision of herself at twenty-one congealed in front of her, like the Virgin come to taunt Slavic schoolchildren. Steve Spiegel, he repeated, hurt by her confusion. Males between the ages of twenty-four and thirty-eight? You know: the twelfth most common name for American She struggled backward, upstream, toward a year when an a capella Steve might have meant something. And still, she was anywhere.Īdie fumbled with the handset in the dark. ![]() ![]() That formed every shape in her mind except its own. Stevie Spiegel, phoning her up out of nowhere, in the middle of the night, after years of their thinking one another dead, when they thought of each other at all. Some subterranean confection of dripped stone, swarming with blind cave newts. Couldn't even begin to draw what she'd imagined. Years later, when she surfaced again, Adie Klarpol couldn't say just how she'd pictured the place. ![]()
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