Songs in Simlish
It was something of a shock to have to stop. She sat in her car while the police light rotated behind her, and at regular intervals she watched her hands turn red on the steering wheel. She had never been stopped by the police before. In the rearview mirror she could see the policeman talking to his radio. His door was slightly open; the light was on inside his car. He got out and came to talk to her.
She turned her motor off. I clocked you at eighty. She had been twenty-five miles per hour over the limit without even realizing she was speeding. It suggested she could handle even faster speeds. I think that would be best. I mean, eighty.
Give me your license. Just take it out of the wallet, please. Mattie Drake runs a little bed-and-breakfast place in Two Trees. You want the next exit and bear left. First right, first right again. Should be all lit up this time of night. He took his copy. She crumpled the ticket into the glove compartment and waited for him to leave. He shut off the rotating light, turned on the headlights, and outwaited her. He followed all the way to the next exit. So Lily had to take it. Moths circled the lights on the sign and on the porch. A large white owl slid through the dusky air, transformed by the lights beneath it into something angelic.
A cricket landed on the sleeve of her linen suit. The sprinklers went on suddenly; the watery hiss erased the hum of insects, but the pathway to the door remained dry. Lily stood on the lighted porch and rang the bell. The woman who answered wore blue jeans and a flannel shirt.
She had the angular hips of an older woman, but her hair showed very little gray, just a small patch right at the forehead. There was a faint southern softness in her voice. Do you want a room? Have you come to see the caves? I met some people who were here last year. You really have to see these caves, they told me. You can go tomorrow. Lily borrowed the phone in the living room to call David. It sat on a small table between a glass ball with a single red rosebud frozen inside and a picture of the Virgin praying. The Virgin wore a blue mantilla and appeared to be suspended in a cloudless sky.
The phone had a dial, which Lily spun. She was so used to the tune their number made on the touch phone at work that she missed hearing it. She listened to the answering machine, heard her voice, which sounded nothing like her voice, suggesting that she leave a message. I may stay a couple of days. She would have only said it out of politeness anyway. They had been married nine years. She would miss him later. She would begin to miss him when she began to miss herself.
He might be missing her, too, just about then. It would be nice if all these things happened at the same time. In the morning Lily lay in bed and watched the sun stretch over the quilt and onto the skin of her arms and her hands. She looked around the room. The bed was narrow and had a headpiece made of iron. A pattern of small pink flowers papered the walls. On the bookcase next to the bed a china lady held a china umbrella with one hand and extended the other, palm up, to see if the rain had stopped.
There were books. Lily opened it, but it turned out to be about horses. A full-length mirror hung on the back of the bedroom door.
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She rose and stood in front of it, backlit by the sunny window, frontlit by the mirror so that she could hardly see. She leaned in closer. She looked at herself for a long time, squinting and changing the angle. Who was she? There was absolutely no way to tell. The smell of coffee came up the stairs and through the shut door. Lily found her clothes on the desk chair where she had left them.
She put them on: stockings, a fuchsia blouse, an eggshell business suit, heels.
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What size shoe do you wear? A six and a half? Katherine might have something that will do. Katherine came through the doorway at the bottom of the stairs, drying her hands on a dish towel. She was somewhat younger than Mattie though older than Lily, middle forties, perhaps, and heavier, a dark-skinned woman with straight black hair. On request she produced jeans for Lily, a sleeveless T-shirt, a red sweatshirt, gray socks, and sneakers.
Everything was too big for Lily. Everything was wearable. Mattie took her through the screen door and out the back porch after breakfast. Mattie had stowed a lunch and a canteen in a yellow day pack. She began to help Lily into it. And then down. You can see the trail from the other side of the fence.
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Watch for rattlers. You hiked much? It caught at the elbow, her arm pinned behind her. Mattie eased the pack off and began again. Crampons and ropes and mallets. I wear them on my belt. I take groups out. Librarians and schoolteachers and beauticians. You know. I was getting a merit badge.
Jep has a lot of common sense. And Jep knows the way. She disappeared back into the house. You try walking in the snows of Borneo. Jep turned out to be a young collie. One ear flopped over in proper collie fashion. He followed Lily out to the gate and then took the lead, his tail and hindquarters moving from side to side with every step. He set an easy pace.
The trail was unambiguous. The weather was cool when they started. Everyone felt good. The sun was not yet overhead when Lily stopped for lunch. Lily had not seen a cupcake like that since she had stopped taking a lunch to school. She sat with her back against a rock overhang and shared it with Jep, giving him none of the cream filling. There was a red place on her left heel, and she covered it with moleskin. Jep lay on his side. Lily felt drowsy. I could give a damn about the caves, if you want to know the truth. Somewhere to her left a small animal scuttled in the brush.
Jep hardly lifted his head. When she woke, the sun was behind her. Jep was on his feet, looking at something above her head.
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His tail wagged slowly and he whined once. On the ground, stretching over him and extending several more feet, lay the shadow of a man, elongated legs, one arm up as though he were waving. When Lily moved away from the overhang and turned to look, he was gone. It unsettled her. She supposed that a seasoned hiker would have known better than to sleep on the trail.
A woman was painted onto the flat face of a rock, which jutted up beside the trail. The perspective was somewhat flattened, and the image had been simplified, which made it extraordinarily compelling somehow. Especially for a painting on a rock. Her dark eyes were half closed; her skin was brown. I host giveaways before and during the sale , and entering is super easy. Why do I host these giveaways? There are a few reasons: to entice new people to visit my blog and hopefully follow on a more long-term basis , to make posts a bit more exciting and fun, and to say thank you!
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