Tricia could have helped out too if she'd still been there, I guess.I caught myself thinking about the Rebecca, Amanda and Tricia. They were all women that I'd shared a bed with at some time, now hopelessly enslaved, physically abused, or mentally scarred. I supposed that I ought to have felt some guilt about their situation, although Amanda was the only one that I had been actually involved in kidnapping. Somehow it just seemed part of the day to day job now. I counted up the number of women. It was a life-sized figure in a comfortable sitting position, made out of dark polished stone — black marble, it seemed to be, though I knew there was no such stone on this island. As I was not standing at the center of the altar I was looking at the idol slightly from the side, and so I could see how the body of the deity merged into the solid block of stone upon which it sat, or rather, how it seemed to grow out of it, a three-dimensional alto-relief, with a fully elaborated front side, from. I dutifully helped her get it on and she walked into the living room to say goodnight to Dad. I followed and leaned against the jamb in the kitchen doorway. I heard a car pull into our driveway.“Helen’s here,” I announced.Mom stepped to the door. “Don’t wait up, Gary. I’ll probably be a little late.”“Ok, dear. Have fun and say hi to Helen.”Mom opened the closet, kicked off her low-heeled pumps and slipped a pair of high-heels on, holding onto the closet door to steady herself while she lifted. "Damn, Carl, you're so tight your muscles are actually twitching, honey; are you so upset with what Barry said?" Hell yeah I'm upset; aren't you? He's lucky I'm still on crutches or I might have wrung his fricken neck. I just can't get over the nerve of that little punk." Yeah, I know; it was completely unexpected, but don't forget, that little punk risked his own life to save ours; we wouldn't even be here if it wasn't for him." I know, that's what makes it so fucking aggravating; how can.
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