Lucy Read Online Free PDF
Author: Laurence Gonzales
termites.”
“Termites? Really? Termites?”
“They’re in the floor. They’re good to eat. Do you want some?”
“Well, are they the same as the ones we had in Congo? Those were good when I tried them once. But who knows what sort of chemicals our local termites might have. I’d be afraid to eat them here.”
Lucy stopped. She withdrew the straw, looking disappointed.
“I didn’t know the house had termites.”
“I suppose you’re right,” Lucy said. “I just felt happy when I realized that there were termites. The food here is so strange.”
“I know. Speaking of chemicals. Who knows what’s in our food for that matter? But we’ll have to make do. So about your clothes …” Jenny gathered them up and put them on the bed. “I know you don’t like clothes. Actually, I don’t either. I often went without in the forest. It’s okay with me if you want to go around the house naked. But I’m afraid you’re going to have to get used to clothes. Come on. I’ll find something that you’ll like to eat. I promise.”
Lucy admired Jenny, such a good and caring person. She allowed herself a momentary vision of the two of them racing through the forest together enjoying the bounty and the beauty. Then Lucy realized that Jenny would never be able to keep up. And that made her think: I have no one else in the world now. Lucy wanted Jenny to know her but she didn’t know how.
But now it was a new day. She could hear Jenny clanking dishes in the kitchen. I’m here, Lucy thought, and I’ll just have to make the best of it. She sighed and rose and began to dress, thinking, I guess I’d better get used to clothes, as Jenny says.
She went down the hall to the bathroom and turned on the water in the sink. She let it run over her hands. She splashed it on her face. She bent down to drink from the spigot. Such a miracle, she thought. Water is life, as her father used to say. And here it just gushed endlessly out of a silver spout as if all the rivers of all the world had magically flowed to this one spot for no purpose other than to please Lucy.
She dried her hands and face and descended the stairs to find Jenny standing at the counter reading a newspaper. Lucy watched as Jenny calmly pored over the endless tales of catastrophe and meanness while sipping coffee from a mug decorated with paintings of yellow pears tinged with pink. Jenny was pretty in a sturdy sinewy way, tall and thin with sandy-red hair curling past her shoulders. She had long delicate fingers, but her hands were calloused from working in the forest, the fingernails battered. Her hands looked as if they had an intelligence all their own.
On the table where Jenny rested a hand, Lucy saw a shiny silver toaster, a pepper mill, coarse salt in a small ceramic bowl, a wicker basket of paper napkins, all these things that she’d seen only in photographs from the books and catalogs and encyclopedias that her father had sent upriver. Those books were tiny windows that connected the dark jungle to a bright and alien world, and Lucy had spent hours on end just peering through, trying to imagine what it might be like to be there in the flesh. Now here she was, and she saw that it was real, so real and bright that it almost hurt her eyes to look. She watched as the light fell through the window and crept over those magical objects, illuminating them as if each one had a living heart within it.
Jenny sighed, wearied by something she’d read. Then she put on a bright smile and turned to Lucy. “Well, Lucy, what would you like for breakfast? I can make you just about anything you want.”
“Thank you.”
“How about fruit and yogurt?”
“That would be fine.”
Jenny busied herself slicing peaches and laying out bowls of berries and nuts and yogurt. She poured orange juice into a ceramic pitcher that matched the coffee mug. Lucy admired the kitchen. It was all very pretty. But somehow it struck her as almost too pretty. She tried to reconcile the
“Termites? Really? Termites?”
“They’re in the floor. They’re good to eat. Do you want some?”
“Well, are they the same as the ones we had in Congo? Those were good when I tried them once. But who knows what sort of chemicals our local termites might have. I’d be afraid to eat them here.”
Lucy stopped. She withdrew the straw, looking disappointed.
“I didn’t know the house had termites.”
“I suppose you’re right,” Lucy said. “I just felt happy when I realized that there were termites. The food here is so strange.”
“I know. Speaking of chemicals. Who knows what’s in our food for that matter? But we’ll have to make do. So about your clothes …” Jenny gathered them up and put them on the bed. “I know you don’t like clothes. Actually, I don’t either. I often went without in the forest. It’s okay with me if you want to go around the house naked. But I’m afraid you’re going to have to get used to clothes. Come on. I’ll find something that you’ll like to eat. I promise.”
Lucy admired Jenny, such a good and caring person. She allowed herself a momentary vision of the two of them racing through the forest together enjoying the bounty and the beauty. Then Lucy realized that Jenny would never be able to keep up. And that made her think: I have no one else in the world now. Lucy wanted Jenny to know her but she didn’t know how.
But now it was a new day. She could hear Jenny clanking dishes in the kitchen. I’m here, Lucy thought, and I’ll just have to make the best of it. She sighed and rose and began to dress, thinking, I guess I’d better get used to clothes, as Jenny says.
She went down the hall to the bathroom and turned on the water in the sink. She let it run over her hands. She splashed it on her face. She bent down to drink from the spigot. Such a miracle, she thought. Water is life, as her father used to say. And here it just gushed endlessly out of a silver spout as if all the rivers of all the world had magically flowed to this one spot for no purpose other than to please Lucy.
She dried her hands and face and descended the stairs to find Jenny standing at the counter reading a newspaper. Lucy watched as Jenny calmly pored over the endless tales of catastrophe and meanness while sipping coffee from a mug decorated with paintings of yellow pears tinged with pink. Jenny was pretty in a sturdy sinewy way, tall and thin with sandy-red hair curling past her shoulders. She had long delicate fingers, but her hands were calloused from working in the forest, the fingernails battered. Her hands looked as if they had an intelligence all their own.
On the table where Jenny rested a hand, Lucy saw a shiny silver toaster, a pepper mill, coarse salt in a small ceramic bowl, a wicker basket of paper napkins, all these things that she’d seen only in photographs from the books and catalogs and encyclopedias that her father had sent upriver. Those books were tiny windows that connected the dark jungle to a bright and alien world, and Lucy had spent hours on end just peering through, trying to imagine what it might be like to be there in the flesh. Now here she was, and she saw that it was real, so real and bright that it almost hurt her eyes to look. She watched as the light fell through the window and crept over those magical objects, illuminating them as if each one had a living heart within it.
Jenny sighed, wearied by something she’d read. Then she put on a bright smile and turned to Lucy. “Well, Lucy, what would you like for breakfast? I can make you just about anything you want.”
“Thank you.”
“How about fruit and yogurt?”
“That would be fine.”
Jenny busied herself slicing peaches and laying out bowls of berries and nuts and yogurt. She poured orange juice into a ceramic pitcher that matched the coffee mug. Lucy admired the kitchen. It was all very pretty. But somehow it struck her as almost too pretty. She tried to reconcile the