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“Vanya, darling? Are you feeling alright?”
All of a sudden a strange disembodied voice emerged from the ether to ruin my delightful fantasies. Oh. Even worse. It was Natasha.
“Is it the heat? You’re not used to summers here; you were teaching literature in Maine right? And before that we were all in Russia…Oh listen to me go while you’re melting, poor baby.”
In the name of all that is sacred and pure in this world, Tasha could not keep her little trap shut. I only survived her babbling because her mouth had been passed down to Emma, small, with full pink lips a shade or so darker than usual. Lips of the same variety seen only elsewhere on the finest porcelain dolls. I watched Natalya talk, watched Emmy’s sweet mouth form words and phrases, “Do you like this on me,” becoming “I want you.” “Em’s going to summer camp in a week, we’ll be all alone,” transforming into “Your Em’s right here for you, Vanya; take me.”
This strategy kept me from falling asleep and as an added boon perpetuated the illusion that I was as eager to pursue a forbidden incestuous relationship as Tasha was. It was not that great of a lie, I did desire an illicit incestuous relationship after all, even if it wasn’t the one Natalya had so passionately hoped for.
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