Free This Body by Laurel Doud Page B

Ingrid Bergman's
hand and how that was to be duplicated without being mimicked. She could see that Robert Bennet was thoroughtly enjoying himself.
And so was she.
    Katharine could feel that the rest of the family had been bored, and Anne more alarmed than bored. Perhaps Robert was telling
stories that he had told time after time, and Katharine was being indiscreet in encouraging him. She realized the more animated
she was getting, the quieter and more watchful Anne became — her scrutiny was intense. But Katharine was obtaining incredibly
vital information about the family, and she stored it away like a squirrel hoarding nuts.
    There was a definite sharpness in his voice when Thisby's father had asked her how the photography was going. Katharine had
told him the truth — that nothing was going on and hadn't been for some time. She figured Anne couldn't object to that. It
was the truth, or as much of the truth as Katharine could decipher. Robert pressed her, though. He had such great expectations,
such high hopes. And now that she was better —
How he assumes the worst is over
— talent should not be squandered so; it would be so disappointing.
He would be so disappointed
. He would, of course, pay for the exhibit, as he had always said he would. This had the sound of an old discussion between
them. Robert had to say it, though he didn't really believe she would hear it.
    Katharine knew she did not have Thisby's eye, let alone her technical facility. It was the flicks she knew. She and the kids
saw a lot of them — Saturday matinees, the early-evening shows, videos when Philip stayed late at the office. Before Ben straight-armed
her, the two of them had fright-night video-fests when they were alone together; Marion and Philip didn't like horror films.
Some of the movies did scare Katharine so badly that she couldn't sleep, but she felt it was a small price to pay to be able
to sit in a room with Ben and share even a movie.
    But the love, the pride, was so evident on Robert Bennet's face that Katharine didn't quite have the heart to burst his bubble
completely.
Maybe photography's something I can learn
. …

    Now Robert Bennet was addressing the family, but he had eyes only for his wife. He spoke simply, lyrically, lines that obviously
had been memorized but were now a part of him. “It is said” — he looked around, mockingly resigned — “in a play we all know
and love so well, that the course of true love never did run smooth.”
    Quince mock-gagged again.
    He spoke now to his wife directly. “But, we are spirits of another sort. On this anniversary of the sealing-day betwixt my
love and me, I'll put a girdle around the earth in forty minutes to bring my love her gifts.
    I know a bank where the wild thyme blows,
    Where oxlips and the nodding violet grows,
    Quite over-canopied with luscious woodbine,
    With sweet musk-roses and with eglantine;
    There sleeps Anne sometime of the night,
    Lull'd in these flowers with dances and delight.”

    He leaned forward over the table, and the candle flames danced up within his pupils. He whispered, “Am I thy lord?”
    Anne remained seated, but she sat on the edge of her chair, her forearms stretched out on the table toward him. She was smiling,
her eyes joining in on the dance. “Then I must be thy lady.”
    “Thou art as wise as thou art beautiful.”
    There was silence. They could have been the only ones in the room.
    Quince quipped loudly to Katharine, “She's not well married that lives married long, but she's best married that dies married
young.”

    The screen fragmented to a thousand pieces but, like a jigsaw puzzle, projected only one image.
    All is pain. All is repulsion
.
    I am attacted to Robert Bennet as a man. I am thinking of him as a man. I am taking his love and his pride of his daughter
and turning it into something perverse
. She stared between them at the vase of red roses.
I am the unloved. No one loved me like that. No one ever loved me like that. No