GLASS SOUP by Jonathan Carroll (funny books to read .txt) 📕

was coming over here to meet you, Vincent, I saw the strangest thing. I must tell you about it. A man was walking down the street toward me; sort of a bum, but not too bad. You know the kind I’m talking about—just this side of shabby, just that side of respectable. I saw that first and was trying to decide how I felt about him. Then I noticed he had both hands up close to his mouth. When we got nearer I saw that he was holding a pigeon there and kissing it again and again.”

Putnam stopped and waited for some reaction. Ettrich stared at his hands crossed on the table and didn’t respond. Back in the Babby Basket, Broximon puckered his lips. He’d already crossed his arms over his chest minutes ago, skeptical of anything Putnam said.

“Disgusting, huh? Can you imagine kissing a city pigeon? Filthy, probably full of diseases… ugly stuff. But you know what happened, Vincent? My mind suddenly did this little flip and it dawned on me that the man loves the bird. I think what he’s doing is revolting, but he doesn’t. But who’s right here? Maybe he knows something I don’t.”

Broximon couldn’t take any more. “What are you talking about? What kind of drugs are you on?”

A naughty, teasing look lit the old man’s face. “I’m saying that perhaps Vincent has to learn to love this pigeon I’ve just offered him.”

When Isabelle realized that she had lost the other’s attention to something behind her, she turned to see what it was. On the other side of a chest-high fence was a sandbox where three infants were busily playing together. They were sitting in a close circle because they didn’t appear old enough to be able to stand on their own yet. Their mothers were nearby, smoking and chatting.

In companionable silence the Isabelles watched the children. Two were dressed in blue jean overalls, while the third wore shorts and a purple “Austria Memphis” soccer shirt. Their clothes were so small yet perfect. All of them wore white sneakers no larger than a cell phone. The Isabelle who was giving over her life thought Every one of those babies will live at least half a century longer than I will and probably more. Half a century. So will Anjo.

Thinking this, she once again caressed the big familiar curve of her stomach and with the greatest love thought of him in there. She remembered how he wriggled excitedly whenever she ate something sweet. Then about how he woke her some nights just moving around in her tummy. How glorious and mysterious it was to be awakened by your child moving inside of you. She had been comforted time and again during the pregnancy by the idea I will never be alone again.

She realized that if she thought about this anymore now it would crush her with grief and loss, so without allowing another moment to pass she slid down the bench. “After I do this, we must talk to those kids.” One hand still on her stomach, she pointed with the other to the large rowdy group of teenagers that Ettrich had passed on entering the park.

“How will you do this?”

Isabelle was close enough so that instead of replying, she reached her free hand over and touched the other woman’s bulging stomach. One hand on her own, one hand on the other’s. Closing her eyes, she cleared her mind as best she could, which was very difficult. She remembered what Vincent had once said about talking to time. About how it understood if you did it the right way. Now she would try it.

With all the small strength she had left, from her side of the glass she willed everything she had, everything that she was, every hope, dream, and wish into the other’s body and being. Like pushing a small boat out into the stream from shore, she gave her unborn child and the rest of her life a firm push forward into the other woman. Then she blessed both—the gesture and the life. With all of her soul she prayed that that would be enough.

She felt nothing different but when she opened her eyes again and instinctively looked down, Isabelle saw that her stomach was no longer round and full to bursting. No longer was that great joyous size and weight she had been carrying around for so long with her anymore. It was gone.

She stood and said, “Come on, we have to hurry.”

If the kids hadn’t come when they did, Ettrich would have said yes to Putnam’s proposition. He was that close; a few breaths away from agreeing to go into death again. Anything, so long as we’re together again. Just let me be with Isabelle and our baby and I don’t give a damn where it is. Broximon was horrified that that’s exactly what he would say, but remained silent because it was not his place to disagree. Broximon only wished that he could get Ettrich alone for a few minutes so they could talk the whole thing over and he could try to reason with him a little.

In the time that they had lived together, Broximon had grown genuinely fond of Ettrich and worried about him constantly. Now here it was—the sum of all his fears. And it looked like he was about to fail again at protecting someone.

Good guy that he was, not for a minute did Brox think about his own welfare or what would happen to him if Vincent decided to go over. He only wanted his friend to think about everything calmly and with as much perspective as he could muster before choosing. He didn’t trust anything Putnam had said although it made brilliant sense in its simplicity. Nevertheless he kept running the offer through his mind, looking for loopholes or tricks that would end up making Vincent even more miserable. But even Broximon had to reluctantly admit that Putnam’s offer was so straightforward and shrewd