Сумерки

           I’dreadthefirstmostrecently,soIstartedintoSenseandSensibility,onlytorememberafterIbeganthreethattheheroofthestoryhappenedtobenamedEdward.Angrily,IturnedtoMansfieldPark,buttheheroofthatpiecewasnamedEdmund,andthatwasjusttooclose.Weren’tthereanyothernamesavailableinthelateeighteenthcentury?Isnappedthebookshut,annoyed,androlledoverontomyback.Ipushedmysleevesupashighastheywouldgo,andclosedmyeyes.Iwouldthinkofnothingbutthewarmthonmyskin,Itoldmyselfseverely.Thebreezewasstilllight,butitblewtendrilsofmyhairaroundmyface,andthattickledabit.Ipulledallmyhairovermyhead,lettingitfanoutonthequiltaboveme,andfocusedagainontheheatthattouchedmyeyelids,mycheekbones,mynose,mylips,myforearms,myneck,soakedthroughmylightshirt...

           ThenextthingIwasconsciousofwasthesoundofCharlie’scruiserturningontothebricksofthedriveway.Isatupinsurprise,realizingthelightwasgone,behindthetrees,andIhadfallenasleep.Ilookedaround,muddled,withthesuddenfeelingthatIwasn’talone.

           "Charlie?"Iasked.ButIcouldhearhisdoorslamminginfrontofthehouse.

           Ijumpedup,foolishlyedgy,gatheringthenow-dampquiltandmybook.Iraninsidetogetsomeoilheatingonthestove,realizingthatdinnerwouldbelate.CharliewashanginguphisgunbeltandsteppingoutofhisbootswhenIcamein.

           "Sorry,Dad,dinner’snotreadyyet-Ifellasleepoutside."Istifledayawn.

           "Don’tworryaboutit,"hesaid.