Indianapolis, Chicago, Portland, Idaho, Kentucky,...
Indianapolis, Chicago, Portland, Idaho, Kentucky, Maryland, Florida--never could Merry have lived alone in all those places, an isolated vagabond washing dishes and hiding out from the police and befriending the destitute on park benchesAnd never would she have wound up in NewarkLiving for six months ten minutes away, walking to the Ironbound through that underpass, wearing that veil and walking all alone, every morning and every night, past all those derelicts and through all that filth--no! The story was a lie, its purpose to destroy their villain, who was himThe story was a caricature, a sensational caricature, and she was an actress, this girl was a professional, hired and charged with tormenting him because he was everything they were notThey wanted to kill him off with the story of a pariah exiled in the very country where her family had triumphantly rooted itself in every possible way, and so he refused to be convinced by anything she had saidHe thought, The rape? The louis vuitton wien bombs? A sitting duck for every madman? That was more than hardshipMerry couldn't survive any of itShe could not have survived killing four peopleShe could not have murdered in cold blood and survived And then he realized that she hadn't survivedWhatever the truth might be, whatever had truly befallen her, her determination to leave behind her, in ruin, her parents' contemptible life had driven her to the disaster of destroying herself Of course this all could have happened to herThings happen like this every day all over the face of the earthHe had no idea how people behaved "You're not my daughter
"If you wish to believe that I am not, that may be just as wellThat may be for the best
"Why don't you ask me about your mother, Meredith? Should I ask you? Where was your mother born? What is her maiden name? What is her father's name?"
"I don't want to talk about my mother
"Because you know nothing about herOr about the person you pretend to beTell me about the house at lady dior bag the shoreTell me the name of your first-grade teacherWho was your second-grade teacher? Tell me why you are pretending to be my daughter!"
"If I answer the questions, you will suffer even moreI don't know how much suffering you want
"Oh, don't worry about my suffering, young lady--just answer the questionsWhy are you pretending to be my daughter? Who are you? Who is 'Rita Cohen'? What are you two up to? Where is my daughter? I will turn this matter over to the police unless you tell me now what is going on here and where my daughter is
"Nothing I'm doing is actionable, Daddy
The awful legalismNot only the awful Jainism, but this shit too"No," he said, "now it isn't--now it's just horrible! What about what you did do!"
"I killed four people," she replied, as innocently as she might once have told him, "I baked tollhouse cookies this afternoonThe Jainism, the legalism, the egregious innocence, all of it desperation, all of it to distance herself from the four who are chanel classic bags dead"This will not do! You are not an Algerian woman! You are not from Algeria and you are not from India! You are an American girl from Old Rimrock, New Jersey! A very, very screwed-up American girl! Four people? No!" And now he refused to believe it, now it was he for whom the guilt made no sense and could not beShe had been much too blessed for this to be trueHe could never father a child who killed four peopleEverything life had provided her, everything life offered her, everything life demanded of her, everything that had happened to her from the day she was born made that impossibleKilling people? It was not one of their problemsMercifully life had omitted that from their lives Killing people was as far as you could get from all that had been given to the Levovs to doNo, she was not, she could not, be his"If you are so big on not lying or taking anything, small or great--all that crap, Merry, completely meaningless crap--I beg you to tell me the truth!"
"The truth is borse gucci simpleYou must be done with craving and selfhood
"Merry," he cried, "Merry, Merry," and, the unbridled unchecked in him, powerless not to attack, with all his manly brawn he fell upon her huddled there on the grimy pallet"It isn't you! You could not have done it!" She put up no resistance as he tore from her face the veil cut from the end of a stockingWhere the heel should be was her chinNothing is more fetid than something where your foot has been, and she puts her mouth up against itWe loved her, she loved us--and as a result she wears her face in a stocking"Now speak!" he commanded herHe pried her mouth open, disregarding a guideline he had never before overstepped--the injunction against violenceIt was the end of all understandingThere was no way for understanding to be there anymore, even though he knew violence to be inhuman and futile, and understanding--talking sense to each other for however long it took to bring about accord--all there was that could achieve a lasting chanel reporter bag result
