BoysintheTrees_AMemoir - (EPUB全文下载)

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Begin Reading
Table of Contents
About the Author
Copyright Page
 
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Dedicated to the first Orpheus, Richard L. Simon, my father, my beloved hero, understood too late for our peace to come during his lifetime.
 
BOOK ONE
Uncle Peter “Snake Hips” Dean.
My Father, 1918, at twenty-one.
My mother, 1930.
Chibie (pronounced Sheebie), who would never allow a picture of her taken. Sorry, Chib.
 
CHAPTER ONE
133 west eleventh street
This day may have been the day, the very day when my identity was born. Before the incident occurred, I didn’t think about who I was. After, I would spend the rest of my life testing myself to see if I had been right.
The whole family was gathered after dinner to make the acquaintance of a possible nurse for Peter, my brother, just born five months before. Lucy and Joey, my two older sisters, and I were all under the age of eight. We lived in the top floor of a six-story town house on Eleventh Street.
“Quick, girls, it’s almost eight, the plane got in an hour ago. Get dressed and wear shoes and socks and brush your hair.” Mommy was holding a cigarette between her lips. She tried to get a brush through the tangles of my feathery hair, and finally grabbed a barrette, attempting to get my hair to go somewhere it stubbornly wouldn’t go. She left it in a web of blond knots and went on to an easier task: brushing Lucy’s hair.
Andrea Simon still had to neaten up her chignon, don her black calf heels, and apply a new layer of lipstick. She always wore bright red.
From at least three rooms away I could hear Daddy playing the piano: a strong, beautiful classical piece he’d been working on. It sounded just like a record.
Daddy had been in the hospital for five weeks after Peter was born. He had had a “nervous collapse.” I would not learn about psychology until later, when the names and labels and diagnoses would collect and sprawl before me.
“ ............

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