Пятьдесят оттенков серого

           Whatwasthestupidfoolthinking?”Sheshakesherheadindisgustandreturnstopackingcrates.

           Forty-fiveminuteslater,wepauseourpackingforthehousespecialty,mylasagna.Kateopensabottleofwine,andwesitamongtheboxeseating,quaffingcheapredwine,andwatchingcrapTV.Thisisnormality.It’ssogroundingandwelcomeafterthelastforty-eighthoursof…madness.Ieatmyfirstunhurried,no-nagging,peacefulmealinthattime.Whatisitabouthimandfood?KateclearsthedishesandIfinishpackingupthelivingroom.Weareleftwiththecouch,theTV,andthediningtable.Whatmorecouldweneed?Justthekitchenandourbedroomslefttopackup,andwehavetherestoftheweek.

           Thephoneringsagain.It’sElliot.Katewinksatmeandskipsofftoherbedroomlikeshe’sfourteen.Iknowthatsheshouldbewritinghervaledictorianspeech,butitseemsElliotismoreimportant.WhatisitabouttheGreymen?Whatisitthatmakesthemtotallydistracting,all-consuming,andirresistible?Itakeanotherslugofwine.

           IflickthroughtheTVchannels,butdeepdownIknowI’mprocrastinating.Burningabrightredholeinthesideofmypurseisthatcontract.DoIhavethestrengthandthewherewithaltoreadittonight?

           Iputmyheadinmyhands.JoséandChristian,theybothwantsomethingfromme.Joséiseasytodealwith.ButChristian…Christiantakesawholedifferentleagueofhandling,ofunderstanding.Partofmewantstorunandhide.