Oh Pure and Radiant Heart by Lydia Millet (shoe dog free ebook .txt) 📕

at the library? That is so selfish. To blow your head open right in front of someone.

—He had some problems, said Ben evenly, projecting what he hoped was polite neutrality.

—This friend of mine in New York was married to a bipolar guy once? He used to have delusions and think parts of her body were planning to attack him. Like just a single finger or her elbow? And one time a breast. The left one. She’d just gotten implants.

—Uh huh?

—Finally he attacked her savagely with a pair of scissors.

—Huh, murmured Ben.

—But they were nose hair scissors.

—Nose hair—?

—So they weren’t sharp on the end. They were curved, you know? So they didn’t hurt her.

He smiled into his chin, face hidden from her as he tightened a screw.

—I can give you the name of my therapist if she wants to see him, she went on. —He’s amazing. He’s an MD from Harvard? But he also does past-life regressions.

—You’ve been regressed? asked Ben, raising an eyebrow as he grabbed a second fixture and sank it. —I never would have guessed.

—When we lived back East I never would have done something like that, said Lynn. —It was just work work work in those days. But now I try to know myself a little better. Metaphysics has really helped me.

—Does Roger do past-life regressions too?

—Are you kidding? He won’t even see an analyst. He wouldn’t even see a therapist back when we lived in Tribeca. His idea of therapy is slamming a ball against a wall until he’s bored into a stupor and then throwing back a stiff drink. Or six.

—He swears by his squash, said Ben, wishing she would leave so that he could dig his holes in peace.

—He gets back tomorrow, said Lynn wistfully.

—Well, said Ben, rising, —it looks like we’re almost done here. Another few days. Are you happy with it?

—Actually I was going to talk to you and Yoshi about that, said Lynn, and lifted a foot to inspect the bottom of her shoe, upon which she found a thumbtack. —Oh my God! Do you see this? It almost went right into my foot! I could have caught tetanus!

—Close call.

—Which reminds me! Did you get that mouse shit cleaned up? In the shed? Because someone could catch the Hanta virus! And like sue us.

—Yes, I did. You were saying about the design of the garden?

—There’s this one part of the yard where I have a completely new vision.

—Oh, said Ben, and nodded.

—Here it is, said Lynn. —Can we get a big rock?

—A rock?

—Like, a boulder.

—How big?

—I don’t know, maybe about as tall as you are?

—You’ll need to talk to Yoshi.

—It’s not your fault, said Lynn. —I’ve been reading this book? And I think how it is now isn’t good feng shui. I mean Yoshi should have known. He’s Japanese, isn’t he?

Later he was sitting in the foyer putting on his street shoes when Lynn, passing him on her way upstairs, trailed her fingers suggestively along his upper arm.

He did not like her, he did not find her attractive, in fact he found her unattractive, in fact he disliked her actively, truth be told. At the same time he felt faintly reassured, almost pleased. He saw her for a second as a type moving past at high speed, fake and bronze and pampered, but a type that wanted him.

When he registered this he disgusted himself.

She could find no specific bulletins on the passage of the hurricane through the Marshall Islands, but once it was gone the weather in the islands returned to sunshine.

Sometimes it all seemed subdued to her, feeling. She watched television news and read a lot while Oppenheimer and Szilard were away, and it was clear to her once or twice that what was missing was vast, what was missing from public life was anguish. None of it was expressed.

If there were only something that rose out of crowds, more than a compulsion, more than a roar, if people would only cry or something, she thought lying in bed with cramps one day while Ben was at work, the television in front of her playing Oprah with the mute button on. If they could even speak honestly, forget the sentiment, about anything more grandiose than themselves; if they could be brought together for some purpose beyond sport or personal gain. There would have to be unity about it but no victims, not the fever of dominion but some will that went through time instead of trying to be a shield against it, some will that knew it stood for the passing and the small.

But then all unity and resolve seemed to come for vengeance: seizing and getting. For the cause of others it was weak and piddling, never massive, never a well-oiled machine. People only built big machines to speak up for the self.

It was not until 1963 that Marshall Islanders exposed to Shot Bravo began to develop thyroid tumors.

The night before she left for Las Vegas Ben told her she would have to go without him, —If, he said, —you’re still insisting on going.

His clients were unwilling to let him leave again.

—Lynn has this feud going with Yoshi and I have to run interference, he said. —She feels she’s an expert on feng shui. But will you be OK without me?

—I’ll be OK, she said. —It’s only a couple of days I’ll be gone. I’ll miss you.

—Will you? asked Ben, and she tried to put his doubt to rest.

Fermi did not want to go either.

—They didn’t call, did they? he asked her.

—No, but the tour’s already set up. If they don’t make it, it could be months till they can get on another one. So I’m hoping they’ll show. I called the people in the Alameda house, but they haven’t heard either.

—I’ll pass.

At first she was reluctant to go by herself but later, on the way down the long hill toward Albuquerque, she rolled down the car windows and the air whipped in.

2

The storm had passed.