remembered another part
Thursday 9 August 2007 | I like a cookie
In which the Monk wants to leave me with something to remember him by—a sardonic “gift.” He holds up a bright blue silk cord, I’ll show you how to tie a knot that will never come undone, and reaches as if to wrap it around my neck. We’re surrounded by people somehow—maybe in the Greyhound station—but I move backward nervously, thinking And the next part in the newspaper story is when they find her strangled body. He can tell what I’m thinking, and laughs contemptuously. Don’t be ridiculous, it’s just a necklace. He half-winds it around my throat and starts to tie it. But I remember his laborious, impossible knots; and I stop him. Thank you, but no, I say gently, mirroring the classic language of gracious Byron Katie refusals. He stares at me for a long moment, then reluctantly removes the rope.
Take that, animus! That’s DOCTOR Crazy Lady to you.
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