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Show 74 Lillian, now. While I'm away. I teach them. I run a private school where we are. They read everything. I take them to all the films at the Whitney and the Modern. They'll be f i n e ." "That sounds . . . " "Also, I get messages," she added. What had Hunt released? Her white, almost calcium-colored flesh took on a sheen. "Earth is only a fraction," she went and tore a corner from the cover of her magazine, Astral Grace. Hunt thought about Corregio's chalked Adoration "They started saying: 'Go to Las Vegas!' And so I'm in the air." Hunt wanted to be bored. Moment by moment she seemed thinner and more spectral. Hunt's mind sketched her, drew her parts, gave the drawings names: 'Sadness;' 'Intelligence Maimed.' Finally, at McCaren Airport, at the baggage claim, Hunt said goodbye. "No!" she said. "What?" "I'm too terrified. I won't encumber you; I won't demand anthing. But this is too much of an exile. Let me share a cab." "All right." "Let me take a room where you are. Where you're staying. Let me know someone else in this town." She grabbed his wrist. Hunt f e l t her fingers buzzing like f l i e s. At the check-in counter at The Castaways, the clerk asked, "Are you together?" "No," Hunt began. |
