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Show THE BRUISE-2 The sun comes in no matter how tightly I shut the louvres and it turns the dust into atoms that whirl around me with a humming sound . Sometimes I think I see the actual molecules in the air, but I'm not going to ask anyone. The humming was very loud this morning, my hands were like brittle leaves, and I had that sort of thirst that nothing helps. No sirens came, thank God. Peter handed me a cup of tea. It was laced with rum. The sun particles surrounded him so that he seemed like a pale god. When I stood up, I wrapped the sheet around me to cover the bruise. I would make it into work, as I always do. "You're always this way when he's in town," Peter said. "Would you rather be considered beautiful or intelligent?" My father sits back across from me in the booth at Sardi's, his handsome white head cocked to one side. I've been trying to tell him about my work. I wish ne would call the waiter. "Well? You can't have both, you know." He smiles sideways, meaning to be waggish. "Daddy, order me a drink," I say finally. I can't seem to discourage him. Whenever he visits New York it's the same. "I vote beautiful," he says. "More than your mother. I never thought it possible. What do you need to be intelligent for?" I move my knee away, pretending not to notice. |