She’d been called “sweet pea” a lot in the past months, ever since he’d been called to serve in Father Gheraeld’s administration as Chief Science Counsel and they’d had to leave their old life behind. “Lettie can help you finish,” he said as he moved toward the door. “She’s good with calculus.” “Of course she
“But you promised,” Ayn said, casting her most pathetic look. “I know, and I will,” he said, “after I find out what Father Gheraeld needs.” “This homework is due tomorrow morning,” Ayn reminded him, setting her elbows on the table and resting her chin on her hands. Her dad slipped off the stool with an
The intern rapped against the open office door. “Professor Hyarzden?” Professor Hyarzden placed a long finger in the middle of the column of figures on the screen in front of him. “Yes?” “Father Gheraeld would like to speak with you,” the intern said. “Dad,” Ayn said. The professor glanced at his daughter sitting on the
He is twice her size. She straddles the park bench, her back to his chest, face towards the sun. Encircled by his arms. His winter-pale legs—golden hair shimmering—encase hers. His warm lips graze the back of her neck. She peers over her shoulder as a woman walks by, one of many on this sunny spring
The tide rose without her noticing. She is drowning. In an ocean of voices. Their clashing rhythms crashes over her. Deep. High. Fast. Slow. She imagines a bubble, like a deep-sea diver’s helmet, set squarely upon her broad shoulders. Meant to keep the voices out. To keep her thoughts her own. Her own. The voices
She stopped, her eyes locking on the face of the lion. “Mi Scusi,” a man said, stepping quickly around her. He held a red flag up over his head. She moved out of the way of the bustling train of people moving along the sidewalk. Another tour group being led to The Accademia, no doubt.
If I were going to make a movie in the style of Hitchcock, she thought, I would include this silhouetted tree, with this brooding sky behind it.