OCR Text |
Show CHRYSALIS PAGE 145 "You would get married again, wouldn't you?" A terrible pang of bilious jealousy rages through me, that some other woman should have my children, and my kitchen, my bed and my pillow. I try to imagine Mark in bed with her, making love to her. I inhale hurt and rage. Unexpected tears run down my cheeks and quickly I wipe them away. "Mark, listen to me. You're not listening to me." "Then stop being so silly." "It's not silly- It's practical. Who would you marry? I have to know. Not Annelise?" "Not Annelise. Nobody." His face is puzzled and nervous. "Why nobody?" "Because I love you." He blows the paper from his straw at me. "I love you more," I say. "Do you know what I wish? I wish we had made love that night in the park - out in the open, in the grass under the stars. Why didn't we?" "Because you were afraid we'd be mugged," he says. "Mark, if I die, I'm going to miss you like crazy." The pain of separation whirls through me like a dry wind. "I miss you already." Can he feel it? No. I feel betrayed. By my own body. By Mark, who will certainly marry again and will probably be blissfully happy with someone much younger and prettier than |