Love Me Now; Kill Me Later

"4/27/76 ― Every day I think, 'This is the  beginning of a new chapter.' The person I was, disappeared in the rear view mirror when I first left Spokane. I wanted to expunge that part of my life, be free to start fresh, clean like a newborn child. I thought Marathon would give me that chance, but I defiled that hospitable island. There's always something that grabs at me, pulls me back, sucks me into quicksand. I drift from reality to dream, never knowing which is which.  

What were my thoughts when I hid in the pantry, heard Lucca's plaintive whimpering? Was that real? Where did I go when Aniston crept into my room at night and stole my innocence? Was that real? Was Tony a figment of my imagination?"

"11/20/76 ― For the first time in my life I participated willingly in what is loosely termed, 'making love.' The term is totally wrong for the act. It implies that love can be made. Last night I discovered that loving is a natural phenomenon, can neither be made nor turned off. It is a product of the senses―sight, touch, smell, taste, hearing. When all are favorably affected by contact with another human being, the result is the sensation we call love.  

Yesterday, a man named Clarence ... a very unromantic name ... took me in his arms and kissed me. I saw the look of love in his eyes, felt the gentleness of his kiss, smelled the manliness of him.  

I pushed him away― afraid to let him get too close, afraid I would reveal too much, afraid he would discover the blackness of my soul. But he would not release me, whispered he would make me clean again. No one can make me clean again, I argued. He told me to look back to my first baptism, said he would baptize me anew, in the immersion pool. He undressed me and bathed me with the gentleness a mother bestows on a baby. He swaddled me in a soft towel and carried me to the bed.

Clarence Thorpe is an amazing man. At fifty-five his body is strong and beautifully sculpted, like a statue carved by Michelangelo. Just looking at him excited me. I ran my hands over his chest, tasted his sweat, savored the essence of him. There was no part of my body he did not kiss or caress. When he entered me he moved rhythmically, and once I was satisfied he satisfied himself. We showered together and had dinner sent up to our room."   

      "12/2/76 ― Haven't talked to Thorpe since the night he tossed me out of his shop. He's been drinking more, had words with Lagasse. I couldn't hear what was said but Jack seemed to brush it off.  I'm afraid my plan to make Clarence jealous has backfired. I've made him more angry than jealous. He knows too much about me. Booze loosens the tongue. Thorpe has become a threat  ... a liability."