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Newly liberated from her suffocating marriage, Claire takes a room above a Greenwich Village bistro and begins the novel that has been unfolding in her mind, starring Nevada, her unconventional artist heroine. As Nevada takes on a life of her own, Claire soon realizes that a dark secret binds them together--one that must be overcome before either can realize her full potential, and truly come to life. 272 pp. National print publicity.
When my husband left me, suddenly there was enough air. For three years, no matter where I went, the walls pressed in on me. Even jogging around the Reservoir, the sky folded down around me and made walls. My brain screamed for open spaces, but no space was open enough. If we were in an East Village restaurant with pressed tin ceilings, the ceiling lowered itself crazily and pressed the air out of my chest. It only made me cling to him more tightly. I was convinced that without Aaron I couldn't breathe. I never realized he was the one stealing my air. I like to think it was an innocent theft, but he stole a lot more than air from me in our thirteen years together. He had my sex encased in plastic and tucked away in his battered wallet. My sex, which had flowered like a Riverside Drive windowsill full of plants, now smelled like spilled beer, stale smoke, and rancid french fry oil in an old man's bar. If that salty-sweet part of me had to smell like a public house, at least it could have been a bistro where stock simmered all day, and a cat slept in a window full of geraniums.
The very day he left, in the middle of the shock and panic, I could feel myself coming back to life. I could feel this stream of lost me trickling through what had become a blighted country, through what I had come to believe would always be a blighted country. Quickening, real energy, not the hour or two of false hope that coffee brings. It was my breath coming back?a silver living stream. Suddenly there was enough air in the room, the silver living thread that was my soul, and I thanked God for its return even though the price of getting myself back was losing my husband. Ithanked God, and we agreed that it was a good bargain and I could afford the price.
The price was high, the price was very high, but I could afford it. Economics of the soul?I hadn't had the freedom to make my own decisions for thirteen years. Now a decision had been made for me, a decision I was ashamed I hadn't had the courage to make, and suddenly I had the opportunity to heal the sick empty place in my life that was born out of lack of courage. Lack of heart if you take it literally from the French. Obviously I needed to visit the bistro on West Tenth Street where the fat orange cat slept under geraniums and order beef heart, coeur de boeuf, dripping with heartening blood?eat it raw, accompanied by a glass of house red, and stain my heart red with courage. Take courage from Madame, perched behind the cash register, stout in widow black, warm, imperious, an empress, her son-in-law in charge of the kitchen but under her. She eats men like french fries and buys a bigger girdle each year. I should be ashamed of my lack of courage in front of her, but I breathe her in?her faint aroma of soap and sweat and mothballs?and take heart from her enormous presence. I skip the beef heart and order cassoulet.
I arrive at the bistro at three-fifteen every day, after teaching at the cozy overheated private school on Bank Street and settle myself at my corner table with a pile of papers to grade. Madame's granddaughter brings me café au lait and brioche. Drops spatter the marble table as I dip the cake into the milky coffee, but I manage to keep the essays clean because I'm a professional again. I'm surprised to find myself a virgin again, too, delighted to no longer be obliged to open my body. I'm as self-contained as Madame, my back straight and solitary and strong against the iron bistro chair, the back of a virgin warrior. I feel my back solitary each night against sheets that are unstained and crisp as a fresh sheaf of typing paper. My bed is as narrow and virginal as if I were a daughter in Madame's house, under her protection, under the protection of my own virginity. I'm under the protection of my straight shoulders, my breath, my white cotton panties hung out to dry in the yard where lavender grows. The cotton smells sweet from the sun and wind, and the wild onion growing tall in the unmown grass gives it a virgin tang.
It's a good thing to have the protection of Madame's beef heart, her red wine, my sweet-smelling cotton panties, because these are not easy times. Splintering off from my husband made me feel like one of those broken hearts in an old illustration. The wind blew through the crack, howling at night, but I was tired of being afraid, tired of letting fear be my master, tired of caving in, tired of making my fear a cave in which I would hide, smelling its scent?fresh sweat over stale sweat, the chemical perfume of my deodorant giving out, a chalky feeling in my armpits.
I've heard there are people so agoraphobic that their bed is their only island of safety. Even stepping out into the kitchen makes them reel. Imagine being so dependent on your husband, you have to wait for him to come home to take you to the bathroom! I never got that bad, but my bed became a cave, the mussed sheets full of crumbs, collapsed piles of books in my husband's place.
How it stank in the labyrinth. And how fresh the air was at Madame's. In my room above the bistro with its white iron bedstead, I sat at the mahogany desk drinking coffee as powerful as God, proud to be upright and not huddled in the cave of the bed, proud of the normal relationship I was developing with air. I typed away at Madame's prehistoric Underwood, giving all my pain and fear to my heroine, Nevada. I made her strong as Madame's coffee and as vulnerable as I had been. Though she was my creation, I hoped she would serve as my guide. Torch flaring, she'd lead me into the labyrinth and show me the sacred paintings on the walls. Maybe if we could find the intersection of sacred and scared, I would no longer be afraid of that old stink reattaching itself to my clothing. I didn't understand how I, the true spiritual heir to Madame's peasant health, had ever let herself get this crazy. With Nevada I was going back into the labyrinth to find out.
Posted July 18, 2014
Name. Ravenclaw. Position. Warrior. Looks. White shimmering fur with electric blue eyes. Mate. None, single. Personality. Mysterious. Quiet. Pretty. Shy. Adventurous. Other. AskWas this review helpful? Yes NoThank you for your feedback. Report this reviewThank you, this review has been flagged.
Posted June 21, 2014
Name(s): Minionlight/Minionevil<p>Age: 18 moons<p>Gender: &female<p>Rank: Warrior<p>Appearance: When Minionlight is in control, Minionevil is asleep/unconscious, or both personalities/consciousnesses are asleep/unconscious, she has yellow fur, with blue eyes and a black G on her chest. When Minionevil is in control or Minionlight is asleep/unconscious, she has long, shaggy violet fur, with red eyes and a white M on her chest, in addition to being mu<_>scular. Minionevil isn't invincible, but when she is in control, she is a formidible fighter who can take more blows and is stronger than Minionlight.<p>History: Minionlight was born by "cross-cloning", by Dr. Nefario putting part of a Minion's cell inside a cat's cell. Dr. Nefario and El Macho in<_>jected a lot of PX-41 in her bl<_>oodstream, though after El Macho's de<_>feat, she escaped. Minionlight joined the Nook RP Police, but when they di<_>ed out, she went back to being a loner. Before this, Minionevil was just another form Minionlight would turn into. Now the PX-41, with the help of StarClan, developed into a separate personality/consciousness. One day, Minionlight/evil was attacked by a badger. Minionlight was knocked un<_>conscious, but Minionevil took control and took down the badger. Unfortunately, the battle left her/them in<_>jured. After recovering, Minionlight/evil became part of TreyClan.<p>Personality: Though both can be silly due to her/thier Minion DNA, Minionlight can be timid, sometimes backing down from fights and running away, but is very hardworking and kind, though Minionlight knows her limits. She disapproves of Minionevil's love to fight. Minionevil, is aggressive, but not in<_>sane. She enjoys a good fight, and is willing to fight. Though she can be very arrogant and often pushes her limits, even fighting a badger by herself. Minionevil dislikes Minionlight's timidity. Both Minionlight and Minionevil argue, both because of thier differences and the fact that they share the same body.<p>Other: A mix of the "Warriors" and "Despicable Me" fandoms. If it has "Minionlight" in the heading, then Minionlight's in control. If it has "Minionevil" in the heading, then Minionevil is in control.<p>Theme (casual): "Lords of Summer" (Metallica) for Minionlight; "Headstrong" for Minionevil.<p>Theme (battle): Pom-Pom Battle Theme (Super Mario 3D Land) for Minionlight; "Rage of the Ab<_>andoned" (Epic Battle Fantasy 4) for Minionevil.Was this review helpful? Yes NoThank you for your feedback. Report this reviewThank you, this review has been flagged.
Posted June 19, 2014
Posted July 10, 2014
Looks-Grey tom with orange underbelly and chest. Dark green eyes.
Personality-Strong, Intimidating before you meet him can be rude.
Other just ask
Posted June 12, 2014
Posted June 8, 2014
Age- Eighteen moons.
Rank- Fromer Medicine Cat. Unless there isn't a Medicine Cat in Treyclan, she keeps that rank.
Appearance- A slender, tall white shecat with black splotches and silvery flecks. Her eyes are clear, see through blue, yet seem to hide too many secrets to count.
Personality- Quiet, Noble, and Helpful. She loves to save lives and help others.
Mate- Medicine Cat. T.T
Crush- MEDICINE CAT!!!!!
History- She was once a travelling Medicine Cat, following after Bloodclan attac<_>ks, helping those in desperate need after trouble strikes. One tom changed it all, now she has kits, a clan, and cannot help after Bloodclan strikes anymore.
Themesong- Butterfly Culture.
Signature- ■ (I think. Or ▪ )
Kits- coming soon. Their bios will be labeled under 'SoftShine's co.'
Posted June 13, 2014
Name: Stormpaw <p> Age: 26 moons <p> Description: Her soft fur is dark grey almost black. She has cloudy gray eyes with a ring of gold around her pupils. <p> Personality: nice, caring, is always trying to make other people happy, can be a little moody sometimes although its rare. Just stay away from her if shes mad. <p> Rank: She is a warrior and an apprentice <p> Mentor: Tigerstripe <p> Crush: come closer come closer......... haha like im telling you that. <p> Mate: Nopey nope. Dont have one but i wish i do. <p> Kits: again nopey nope but i wish i had some. <p> Anything else just askWas this review helpful? Yes NoThank you for your feedback. Report this reviewThank you, this review has been flagged.
Posted June 8, 2014
Age 18 moons
Status new warrior
Description. Is a sleek shecat with a white coat and striking golden eyes. Has super sharp claws to rip enemies to pieces but will do anything to help her clan.
Crush. Cant say....but im lookinh for a mate
Find me at trey res three
Posted June 2, 2014
Name: Freezepaw <p>
Desired Warrior Names: Freezeflash, Freezefire, Freezeleaf <p>
Gender: She-cat <p>
Appearance: A tawny she-cat with a white belly and legs and grey paws (except for the back right paw) . Her eyes are forest green, almost glowing, with orange spots that look like fire from far away, but close up they look almost like fallen autumn leaves. <p>
Personality: Cold and distant at first, but later more loving, caring, fun, funny, and a prankster. <p>
Friends: Man, I just got here. <p>
Enemies: Ethereal. <p>
Theme Song: Royals by Lorde
Posted May 29, 2014
Posted May 28, 2014
Name: you CERTAINLY won't find it in the title! (Hint hint)<br>
Age: 27 moons old<br>
Crush: None of your beeswax! :P<br>
Mate: no, but looking for Mr. Right<br>
Kits: Blackkit (adopted)<br>
Clan: what do you think, BLOODCLAN? This is TreyClan bios, so use your noggin! (No offense intended)<br>
Appearence: Silver fur the color of mist, sapphire-blue eyes, short pelt.<br>
Personality: Intelligent, funny/jokester, strong, loyal, kind, and a good hunter. It's best for everyone to leave her alone when she's angry, and can have a testy mouth in her rage. If you mess with her clan, she will attack, and do not, I repeat, DO NOT mess with Blackkit, or she will go all Devil-cat on you. She feels it neccessary to help other clans in need, though won't help evil clans.<br>
Anything Else: Ask me!
Posted July 14, 2014
Looks-orange with black stripes, siover markings on his tail.
Personality- fierce, loyal, not the nicest,
Deputy(used to rp sparrowtail as deputy but changed)
Mate-spiritfur/kits- moonkit, sunkit, cloudkit
Past-will claw anyone who asks
Posted May 28, 2014
•NAME•duh•DESCRIPTION•a sleek dark brown tom with warm brown eyes and ruffled fur on the back of his head•AGE•26 moons•FAMILY•brother; Harpostep•LIKES•orange, running, and snow•DISLIKES•Tinypaw(other clan)•PERSONALITY•he is smart, funny, crazy, and has a slightly short temper•OTHER•nothing. #byebroWas this review helpful? Yes NoThank you for your feedback. Report this reviewThank you, this review has been flagged.