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Show Woodworth/265 J^arty opens the door and climbs out. "Ok." She stands on the sidewalk, and watches the back of Megan's head as she drives away. Her body seems too small for such a big car, too young for all that machinery. The car reaches the end of the street, the blinker flashes on, and Marty feels an itching in her legs, a heat that crawls up from her feet, demanding that she move, run, go with Megan. But she doesn't move, the heat turning to a pricking, searing pain and sticks in her throat, picks at the inside of her eye lids. When she closes the door of her apartment behind her, the pain lifts, leaving her feeling bouyant, but controlled. She can think about everything later. She can figure it all out later- Right now, there are only the details of packing. And what she will do. Sailing? Sit in front of the fire. Read. Maybe walk a lot. Eat out in restaurants, and drink in bars. Go to tennis courts and candy stores, buy beer or take a bath. Without Jake, without any of them, near her- "Nantucket, huh?" Rachael says, still puffing from her * climb up the stairs. "Yeah." "So whatta you in to now, a new burst of masochism?" "Why's it masochistic?" "Come on, Marty. You're going to end up as bad as your mother. You gonna go up there and moon around about what Jake did and didn't do, and about where he did and didn't do it. So what's the point?" "I just feel like I need to get away for a while. It seems like everything is happening too fast." "So go to San Francisco. Screw your brains out, or some- |
