[Journal: Dec 3rd, 1985] Sunburn in November
In 1966, I kiss Laurie for the first time. I feel the loss of her eventual decision to leave me at the same instant as her lips place the second kiss like a signature over the first. She does not ask and I do not tell her. It seems she projects emotion onto my face, sees what she expects to see. She is beautiful. I doubt she would be interested in Osterman, if she had ever met him. I never show her the photograph I will take back from under the glass in the deserted bar, where I meet Janey on May 12th, 1959. In 1966 she is crying, and the suitcase refuses to close.
My father dies in 1969. I do not attend the funeral, because I never corrected his belief that his son died at the gila flats testing facility. In 1959 he recieves the telegam. Now he is gone, I allow the world knowledge of my true name. The reporters cannot find a photograph of Osterman, because I hold it in my hand. Everything is spiralling out of control.
We are moving into a flat in Washington. It is Laurie's 21st birthday, and she is happy.
I have always tried to make her happy, in my own way.
My new universe is clean and sparse. It is much simpler, younger. Like Laurie, before I destroyed her.
My father dies in 1969. I do not attend the funeral, because I never corrected his belief that his son died at the gila flats testing facility. In 1959 he recieves the telegam. Now he is gone, I allow the world knowledge of my true name. The reporters cannot find a photograph of Osterman, because I hold it in my hand. Everything is spiralling out of control.
We are moving into a flat in Washington. It is Laurie's 21st birthday, and she is happy.
I have always tried to make her happy, in my own way.
My new universe is clean and sparse. It is much simpler, younger. Like Laurie, before I destroyed her.