June 29— The New Moon 10 страница

And Misty pulled it out from her chest, looking at it, loving it for no good reason. She said, “A pigeon.”

Peter stepped away and waved for her to walk along with him. They were walking through the campus, between brick buildings shaggy with ivy, and Peter said, “Now tell me three words that describe a pigeon.”

Walking next to him, Misty tried to put her hand in his, but he clasped his together behind his back.

Walking, Misty said, “Dirty.” Misty said, “Stupid. Ugly.”

Her three words that described a pigeon.

And Peter looked at her, his bottom lip curled in between his teeth, and his corrugator muscle squeezing his eyebrows together.

That previous life, in art school, Peter asked her to name a body of water.

Walking next to him, Misty said, “The St. Lawrence Seaway.”

He turned to look at her. He’d stopped walking. “Name three adjectives describing it,” he said.

And Misty rolled her eyes and said, “Busy, fast, and crowded.”

And Peter’s levator labii superioris muscle pulled his top lip into a sneer.

Walking with Peter, he asked her just one last thing. Peter said to imagine you’re in a room. All the walls are white, and there are no windows or doors. He said, “In three words, tell me how that room feels to you.”

Misty had never dated anyone this long. For all she knew, this was the kind of veiled way that lovers interview each other. The way Misty knew Peter’s favorite flavor of ice cream was pumpkin pie, she didn’t think his questions meant anything.

Misty said, “Temporary. Transitory.” She paused and said, “Confusing.”

Her three words to describe a sealed white room.

In her previous life, still walking with Peter, not holding hands, he told her how Carl Jung’s test worked. Each question was a conscious way to access the subconscious.

A color. An animal. A body of water. An all-white room.

Each of these, Peter said was an archetype according to Carl Jung. Each image represented some aspect of a person.

The color Misty had mentioned, gold, that’s how she saw herself.

She’d described herself as “Shiny. Rich. Soft,” Peter said.

The animal was how we perceived other people.

She perceived people as “Dirty. Stupid. Ugly,” Peter said.

The body of water represented her sex life.

Busy, fast, and crowded. According to Carl Jung.

Everything we say shows our hand. Our diary.

Not looking at her, Peter said, “I wasn’t thrilled to hear your answer.”

Peter’s last question, about the all-white room, he says that room with no windows or doors, it represents death.

For her, death will be temporary, transitory, confusing.

Не нашли, что искали? Воспользуйтесь поиском: