Vengeance Read Online Free PDF

how a small town of immigrant Mayans in Texas was thriving economically because they had retained the knowledge and the lessons of their history.
    “I have enough money to pay you what I owe you for today and last session,” I said.
    “Good. Pay after we talk. You’ve told me something. Now the question.”
    “You know a psychiatrist named Geoffrey Green?”
    She nodded her head as she chewed a reasonable piece of biscotti.
    “I’ve met him a few times. Have a few of his former patients.”
    “What can you tell me about him?”
    “That is a second question and is part of your hour,” she said, “in spite of the coffee-and-biscotti bribe.”
    I held out my hands to show that I accepted her condition.
    “He’s good. He’s expensive. He is young. But then, to me almost everyone is young.”
    “Even in Sarasota?”
    “Less so here, but the world is vast. My favorite opening of a book is Douglas Adams’ Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy . It’s something like ‘The universe is very, very big.’ I am amused by understatement.”
    “He mess around with his female patients?”
    She paused mid-drink and put down her cup. She folded her hands in her lap and gave me her full attention.
    “You have reason to believe he does?” she asked.
    “Maybe,” I said.
    “Well, I will answer you enigmatically. You may be half right.”
    “I don’t understand.”
    “When you do, let me know. I can say no more. Subject is dropped. Now, to you.”
    “You don’t want to talk about some lost tribe in the wilds of Indonesia?”
    “I do not. What are you doing for fun?”
    “Watching movies, videotapes.”
    “And?”
    “Working, eating, trying not to think, dreaming.”
    “You have a good dream for me, Lewis?”
    “Maybe.”
    “Every time you come to see me you have a dream the night before. Tell me.”
    She reached for the coffee.
    “Worms in my ear,” I said.
    “In your ear?”
    “You sure you want to hear this while you’re eating?”
    “I could make you violently ill with stories I have heard and continue to eat,” she said, working on the remaining crumbs of biscotti.
    “White worm, right ear. My wife is in the dream. I feel something funny, a tickle in my ear. She says there’s a worm crawling into my ear. I panic, tell her to get it out. She tries. I feel her fingernails gently going for the worm. She says she is having trouble getting a grip on it. It’s crawling deeper. I tell her to get a tweezer, fast. She runs into the bathroom, comes back with a tweezer, probes for the worm. I feel the metal, cold, touching the inside of my ear, jabbing. She is having trouble. Finally, she lets out a sound. I know she has it. She does, but she has to struggle. It comes apart. She digs it out of my ear in pieces while I keep asking ‘Is it out? Is it out?’ When she says it is, I run
into the bathroom, turn on the shower, brush away real and imagined worms.”
    “You are nude? You don’t have to take off your clothes?”
    “Nude.”
    “Your wife. She is also nude?”
    “Yes, no, I’m not sure. Now she’s wearing something flimsy, white.”
    “And you were in bed with her when you discovered this worm?”
    “I … yes.”
    “You see where this is going?”
    She finished her coffee, shook the cup to be sure she hadn’t missed a drop or two and placed the cup on her desk next to the photographs of her grandchildren.
    “Yeah, at least part of the way.”
    “Tell me.”
    “Sex,” I said.
    “When is the last time you had sex? I mean with a woman or a man other than yourself?”
    The phone rang. She was like an answering machine. She couldn’t bring herself to turn it off or let it ring. I had asked her once to put on her answering machine when we talked. She had gone into a brief explanation about how she could do it, but in doing so she would wonder who was calling and not give sufficient attention to our session. In addition, she worried about her husband. Melvin had a bad heart. So I sat quietly,