Коллекционер
Chapter 2
Shesaid,she’ssixteennow.Ijustcan’tgetacrosstoher.SometimeswhenItalktoherIfeellikeananimalinazoo.Shejuststandsoutsideandwatchesme.
Iknewshe’dsaiditbefore.Orreaditsomewhere.Youcanalwaystell.
They’reallthesame,womenlikeher.It’snottheteenagersanddaughterswhoaredifferent.Wehaven’tchanged,we’rejustyoung.It’sthesillynewmiddle-agedpeoplewho’vegottobeyoungwho’vechanged.Thisdesperatesillytryingtostaywithus.Theycan’tbewithus.Wedon’twantthemtobewithus.Wedon’twantthemtowearourclothes-stylesanduseourlanguageandhaveourinterests.Theyimitateussobadlythatwecan’trespectthem.
Butitmademefeel,thatmeetingwithher,thatG.P.didloveme(wantme).Thatthere’sadeepbondbetweenus—hislovingmeinhisway,mylikinghimverymuch(evenlovinghim,butnotsexually)inmyway—afeelingthatwe’regropingtowardsacompromise.Asortoffogofunsolveddesireandsadnessbetweenus.Somethingotherpeople(liketheNwoman)couldn’teverunderstand.
Twopeopleinadesert,tryingtofindboththemselvesandanoasiswheretheycanlivetogether.
I’vebeguntothinkmoreandmorelikethis—itisterriblycrueloffatetohaveputthesetwentyyearsbetweenus.Whycouldn’thebemyage,ormehis?Sotheagethingisnolongertheall-importantfactorthatputsloverightoutofthequestionbutasortofcruelwallfatehasbuiltbetweenus.
