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Show syz ups would have us believe? Were all these attitudes only in mes my anger at Aunt* complacency and sense of superiority as the first and legal wife; my sense of competition with Aunt Helga f or my m°ther's attention and affiliation; my old bitterness against my father for not being there when I needed him most? Perhaps my entire vision was corrupt, the fruits em&mmvk sour with poison. I began to feel that my branch would be shorn - if it had not already been - if I did not dedicate myself to some worthy task, some sorting of my attitudes. I would have to test them against reality. I could not pretend that all was bright perfection anymore; the kewpie doll was cracked and chipped-,and my soul had emerged, demanding attention. I had been born into a family unique in its dedication to religion. There must be some reason for that - I could not be all that different from these people that still warmed my heart when their faded images flickered to mind. But to what would I dedicate myself? I lived monogamously. Brian had said, quite plainly, that one wife was almost more than enough. Then should I leave him, return to my family? I couldn't do that. Even if I believed in divorce, I could not return. know I did notAhow to return. My memories were even yet tinged with a horrifying sense of identity lost, of being directed with all the effectuality of a flashlight at the noonday sun. And what about my brothers? What if they were right? Darkness threatened, as I thought of them, a notion of vampires and werewolves hovering at the periphery of their |