jueves, 19 de julio de 2018

Joss Stone / You Had Me / Me tuviste


Joss Stone
Joss Stone
YOU HAD ME


Escrita por Joss Stone, Francis White, Wendy Stoker y Betty Wright, "Yoh Had Me" es el primer single del álbum "Mind Body & Soul", lanzado en septiembre de 2004. Es uno de los mayores éxitos de Joss Stone. Fue nominada al Grammy el 2005 en la categoría Mejor Interpretación Vocal Pop Femenina.


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=opwudiDgv1EJoss Stone

You Had Me
by Joss Stone, Francis White, Wendy Stoker and Betty Wright
You had me You lost me You're wasted You cost me I don't want you here messing with my mind Spitting in my eyes and I still see Tried to keep me down I'm breaking free I don't want no part in your next fix Someone needs to tell you this is it Hey listen you'll be missin' Out on all my love and my kissing Make your mistakes on your own time When you come down you're just no good to have around Instead of making money you took mine [Chorus] You had me You lost me You're wasted You cost me I don't want you here messing with my mind I've realized in time that my eyes are not blind I've seen it before I'm taking back my life You tried to trade on my naivete But the things you do and say embarrass me See once upon a time I was your fool But the one I leave behind is you Hey listen you'll be missin' Out on all my love and my kissing Make your mistakes on your own time When you come down you're just no good to have around Instead of making money you took mine [Chorus] Vodka and a packet of cigarettes That's all it used to be but now You're sniffing on snow when you're feeling low Suffocating dreams that could have been Maybe for a minute I was down with that But it didn't take long for me to see the light You swore you had control of it But when I stepped back you slipped on your supply [Chorus] Taking it back I'm taking it back Taking back my life Taking it back I'm taking it back Taking back my life Ain't nobody got no business stressing all the time Taking it back I'm taking it back Taking back my life [Chorus] Taking it back I'm taking it back Taking back my life Taking it back I'm taking it back Taking back my life Ain't nobody got no business stressing all the time Taking it back I'm taking it back Taking back my life




https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZMgCEu8TpBE
Joss Stone
You Have Me
Subtitulos en español






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Joss Stone / Son of a Preacher


Joss Stone
Joss Stone
SON OF A PREACHER



https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TBH8o8XXnVM

Joss Stone 

Son of a Preacher 

Joss Stone performing Dusty Springfield's 'Son of a Preacher Man' 

at the UK Music Hall of Fame 

on 14/11/06.




SON OF A PREACHER

Billy-Ray was a Preacher's son,
And when his daddy would visit he'd come along,
When they gathered round and started talking,
That's when Billy would take me walking,
Through the back yard we'd go walking,
Then he'd look into my eyes,
Lord knows to my suprise:

The only one who could ever reach me,
Was the son of a preacher man,
The only boy who could ever teach me,
Was the son of a preacher man,
Yes he was, he was, oh yes he was.

Being good isn't always easy,
No matter how hard I tried,
When he started sweet talking to me,
he'd come tell me everything is alright,
he'd kiss and tell me everything is alright,
Can I get away again tonight?.

The only one who could ever reach me,
Was the son of a preacher man,
The only boy who could ever teach me,
Was the son of a preacher man,
Yes he was, he was, oh yes he was.

How well I remember,
The look that was in his eyes,
Stealing kisses from me on the sly,
Taking time to make time,
Telling me that he's all mine,
Learning from each others knowing,
Looking to see how much we'd grown.

The only one who could ever reach me,
Was the son of a preacher man,
The only boy who could ever teach me,
Was the son of a preacher man,
Yes he was, he was, oh yes he was.




https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kjWQgLvV7xs

Joss Stone

Son Of A Preacher Man 

(Night Of The Proms 2017)




https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DjydOI4MEIw

Dusty Springfield 

Son of a Preacher Man





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miércoles, 18 de julio de 2018

Casa de citas / Joan Rivers / Ayer es historia






Joan Rivers
AYER ES HISTORIA


Ayer es historia, mañana es un misterio, hoy es un regalo de Dios, por eso le llamamos presente.


Casa de citas / Joan Rivers / Sexo II


Joan Rivers
Joan Rivers
SEXO II

He pasado tanto tanto tiempo sin sexo que he olvidado quien ata a quien.

Casa de citas / Joan Rivers / Sobre el sexo I



Joan Rivers

SOBRE EL SEXO I


Culpo a mi madre de mi pobre vida sexual. Todo lo que ella me dijo fue: El hombre va arriba y la mujer abajo. Por tres años mi esposo y yo dormimos en literas.



martes, 17 de julio de 2018

Joss Stone / It's A Man's World / Es un mundo de hombres


Joss Stone


Joss Stone

It's A Man's World


Letra de James Brown y Betty Jean Newsome

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rIOxZbnwqTg
Joss Stone - It's A Man's World
Subtítulos en español
Studio Version - 2003



Grabada en 1966 por James Brown, Joss la interpretó en 2003 durante un homenaje a su creador, en el marco del Kennedy Center Honors, un evento que tributa anualmente a los grandes contribuyentes a la cultura norteamericana. Esa versión en vivo fue lanzada como bonus track de un DVD francés edición limitada. También la cantó en 2005, esta vez con el mismo James Brown, en el programa de televisión inglesa Friday Night with Jonathan Ross, en una de las últimas apariciones televisivas del padre del funk, fallecido en 2006. 





James Brown y Joss Stone
2005


It's A Man's World

by James Brown and Betty Jean Newsome


This is a man's world
This is a man's world
But it wouldn't be nothing
Nothing without a woman or a girl, ooh

You see, man made the car to take us over the road and
Man made the train to carry the heavy load
Man made electric light to take us out of the dark
Man made the boat for the water
Like, like Noah made the ark

This is a man's, a man's world, ooh
But it would mean nothing
Nothing without, without a woman or a girl
Without a woman or a girl

Man thinks about the little bitty baby girls
And the baby boys see
Man makes then happy
Cause man made them toys
And after man make everything
Everything he can
You know that man makes money to buy from other man

This is a man's, a man's world ooh
But it wouldn't be nothing
Not one little thing no
Without a woman or a girl
Without a woman or a girl

Man needs a woman
He's got to have a woman
Man, he needs a woman
He's got to have a woman

Man makes everything he can
But you see, a woman makes a better man
A woman makes a better man

This is a man's, a man's world ooh
But it would mean nothing
Not one little thing no
Without a woman or a girl, no
Without a woman or a girl, no
It would mean nothing

This is a man's world


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fJwE8edYEyw&index=14&list=RDYqLuGtssyGw
Joss Stone - It's a Man's World 
(Keira Knightley in Coco Mademoiselle)





https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BTTYqEPAX70
Joss Stone & James Brown
Man's World Live


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Joss Stone / The Love We Had / El amor que tuvimos


Joss Stone

Joss Stone

 The Love We Had 

(Stays On My Mind) 

"El amor que teníamos permanece en mi mente"


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YqLuGtssyGw

The love we had stays on my mind
El amor que teníamos permanece en mi mente


Lately baby, I've been thinking
How good it was when you were here
And it ain't the wine that I been drinking
For once I feel my head is clear
But early this morning, when I opened up my eyes
That old lonesome feeling took me by surprise
I guess you meant more to me than I realized
The love we had stays on my mind
The love we had stays on my mind
And lately girl, I've been remembering
The good times that we used to share
My thoughts of you don't have an ending
And memories of you are everywhere
But why should I tell you, it's not your concern
You win some, you lose some
Well I've lost and I've learned
It's just that I'm so lonely
With no place to turn
And here at the end, I find
Yes I do
The love we had stays on my mind
Girl, if you were nearer
If you had a mirror
Maybe you



https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9sxHmQYoCAc




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domingo, 15 de julio de 2018

Casa de citas / Jerry Lewis / Mel Brooks y Woody Allen


Jerry Lewis



Jerry Lewis
MEL BROOKS Y WOODY ALLEN

Mel Brooks sabe hacer un cine que llega con facilidad a todos y Woody Allen es tan extraordinario que cuando me pidió que le dirigiera una película le dije que nadie podría hacerlo mejor que él mismo. Son mis mejores amigos. Con Mel hasta nos prestamos los chistes.




Casa de citas / Jerry Lewis / El rey de la comedia




Jerry Lewis
EL REY DE LA COMEDIA

En El rey de la comedia he querido tan sólo demostrar que puedo interpretar personajes dramáticos. Lástima que ningún actor dramático intente personajes cómicos. Hay 20.000 actores que pueden hacer Hamlet, pero muy pocos pueden hacer lo que yo hago.



Casa de citas / Jerry Lewis / bufón

Jerry Lewis

Jerry Lewis

BUFÓN

Convertirme en bufón para que los demás se rían es algo muy serio.






viernes, 13 de julio de 2018

Casa de citas / Alice Munro / La cabra


Alice Munro
Biografía
LA CABRA

 Sylvia había olvidado echar la llave de la puerta. Se dio cuenta de que en ese momento debería cerrar en vez de abrir, pero era demasiado tarde, ya había abierto.
Y allí no había nadie.
Sin embargo estaba segura, segurísima, de que el golpeteo era real.
Cerró la puerta, esta vez con llave.
Oyó un tamborileo guasón, un repiqueteo tintineante que venía de la pared de los ventanales. Encendió la luz, pero no vio nada y la volvió a apagar. Sería algún animal ¿quizás una ardilla? Las puertas francesas que se abrían entre las ventanas y daban al patio tampoco estaban cerradas con llave. Ni siquiera cerradas del todo. Las había dejado entreabiertas para ventilar la casa. Empezó a cerrarlas, alguien se rió muy cerca de ella, tan cerca que estaba en la habitación.
—Soy yo —dijo una voz de hombre—. ¿La he asustado?
Estaba apoyado contra el cristal, a su lado.
—Soy Clark, Clark, el que vive un poco más allá.
Sylvia no le iba a pedir que entrara, pero no se atrevía a cerrarle la puerta en las narices. El podría sujetarla antes de que pudiera hacerlo. Tampoco quería encender la luz. Dormía con una camiseta larga. Tendría que haber pegado un tirón al edredón del sofá y haberse envuelto en él, pero era demasiado tarde.
—¿Quiere vestirse? —preguntó Clark—. Aquí tengo precisamente lo que necesita.
Llevaba una bolsa de compras en la mano. Se la tiró, sin hacer ademán de alcanzársela.
—¿Cómo dice? —Sylvia hablaba con voz entrecortada.
—Mire y vea. No es una bomba. Ahí está, cójala.
Sylvia metió la mano en la bolsa sin mirar. Algo blando. Y en ese momento reconoció los botones de su chaqueta, la seda de la blusa, el cinturón de los pantalones.
—Se me ocurrió que era mejor devolverle esto. Es suyo, ¿no?
Sylvia apretó las mandíbulas para que no le castañetearan los dientes. La boca y la garganta se le habían secado de forma alarmante.
—Entendí que todo esto era suyo —dijo él en voz baja.
Sylvia tenía la lengua estropajosa. Le costó decir:
—¿Dónde está Carla?
—¿Se refiere usted a Carla, mi mujer?
Ahora podía verle mejor la cara. Podía ver cómo estaba disfrutando la escena.
—Mi mujer, Carla, está en la cama, en casa. Está durmiendo en la cama. En su sitio.
Era un hombre guapo con pinta de tonto. Alto, espigado, bien formado, pero con una actitud que parecía forzada. Un aire de amenaza intencionada y contenida. Un rizo de pelo negro le caía sobre la frente, un bigotito presumido, ojos que parecían a la vez prometedores y burlones, una sonrisa infantil siempre al borde de la ofuscación.
Nunca le había caído bien: lo había comentado con León. León decía que su actitud un tanto confianzuda no era más que inseguridad en sí mismo.
El hecho de que estuviera inseguro de sí mismo no significaba que en ese momento ella estuviera a salvo.
—Está agotada —dijo Clark—, después de su aventurilla. Tendría que haberse visto usted la cara… Tendría que haberse visto usted la cara que ha puesto al reconocer esa ropa. ¿Qué pensó usted? ¿Que la había asesinado?
—Me pilló por sorpresa —contestó Sylvia.
—Apuesto a que sí. Después de la generosa ayuda prestada para que escapara.
—La ayudé —dijo Sylvia con gran esfuerzo—. La ayudé porque parecía estar en un aprieto.
—Aprieto —repitió él como si estudiara la palabra—. Imagino que lo estaba. Se vio en un tremendo aprieto cuando saltó de ese autobús, buscó un teléfono y me llamó para que fuera a buscarla. Lloraba de tal manera que me costó adivinar lo que me decía.
—¿Quería volver?
—¡Oh, claro! Puede estar segura de que quería volver. Es una muchacha con muchos altibajos en sus emociones. No creo que usted la conozca tanto como yo.
—Parecía muy feliz con la idea de poder marcharse.
—No me diga… Bueno, creo en su palabra. No he venido aquí para discutir con usted.
Sylvia no dijo nada.
—Vine para decirle que no me hacen gracia sus injerencias en mi vida con mi mujer.
—Además de ser su mujer es un ser humano —dijo Sylvia a pesar de saber que haría mejor en callarse.
—¡Vaya por Dios! ¿Así es la cosa? ¿Mi mujer es un ser humano? ¿De veras? Gracias por la información. Pero no trate de hacerse la lista conmigo, Sylvia.
—No me estaba haciendo la lista.
—Bueno. Me alegro. No quiero enfadarla. Sólo tengo un par de cosas importantes que decirle. Una: no quiero que meta las narices nunca en nada que tenga que ver con la vida de mi mujer ni con la mía. Otra, que no quiero que ella vuelva por aquí. No es que Carla tenga demasiado interés en venir, de eso estoy segurísimo. Por el momento no tiene demasiada buena opinión de usted. Y ya es hora de que aprenda usted a limpiar la casa. Ahora —continuó—, ahora ¿le ha entrado esto bien en la cabeza?
—Más que de sobra.
—¡Vaya!, espero que sí. Espero que sí.
Sylvia dijo:
—Sí.
—¿Y sabe qué otra cosa se me ocurre?
—¿Cómo?
—Creo que me debe usted algo.
—¿Cómo?
—Creo que debe ofrecerme… Que debe ofrecerme sus disculpas.
—Muy bien. Si así lo quiere…, lo lamento.
Clark cambió de postura, quizá sólo para extender la mano y, al verlo moverse, Sylvia se estremeció.
El se echó a reír. Puso la mano en el marco de la puerta para asegurarse de que ella no fuera a cerrarla.
—¿Qué es eso? —preguntó Sylvia.
—¿Qué es qué? —repitió él como si ella estuviera maquinando un ardid, un ardid que no serviría de nada.
Pero en ese momento captó la imagen de algo reflejado en la ventana y giró en redondo para mirar.
Frente a la casa había una parcela lisa y ancha de terreno que, en esa época del año, se cubría con frecuencia de niebla por la noche. Esa noche la niebla estaba ahí, lo había estado todo aquel rato. Pero en ese momento se produjo un cambio. La niebla se había espesado, había tomado otro perfil, se había transformado en algo puntiagudo y radiante. Primero fue una bolita de diente de león que se tambaleaba hacia delante, luego se condensó en una especie de animal sobrenatural, blanco puro, endemoniadamente anguloso, algo así como un unicornio enorme, que se abalanzaba hacia ellos.
—¡Dios mío! —exclamó piadosamente Clark en voz baja.
Aferró a Sylvia por el hombro. El gesto no alarmó en absoluto a Sylvia: lo aceptó convencida de que lo hacía para protegerla o para tranquilizarse él.
Y en eso quedó al descubierto la visión. Salió entre la niebla, entre la luz creciente —parecía la de un coche que pasara por el camino trasero, probablemente en busca de sitio donde aparcar—, entre todo eso surgió una cabra blanca. Una saltarina cabrita blanca, apenas más grande que un perro pastor.
Clark soltó el hombro de Sylvia y dijo:
—¿De dónde demonios vienes?
—Es su cabra —aventuró Sylvia—. ¿No es su cabra?
—Flora —confirmó él—. Flora.
La cabra se detuvo a un metro de ellos, intimidada, y dejó caer la cabeza.
—Flora —repitió Clark—. ¿De dónde demonios vienes? Nos has acojonado.
Nos.
Flora se acercó sin levantar la vista. Embistió contra las piernas de Clark.
—¡Condenado y estúpido animal! —exclamó con voz temblorosa—. ¿De dónde vienes?
—Se había perdido —dijo Sylvia.
—Sí, se había perdido. La verdad es que no pensábamos volver a verla.
Flora alzó la cabeza. La luz de la luna captó el destello de sus ojos.
—Nos has asustado —insistió Clark—. ¿Estuviste por ahí buscando novio? Nos acojonaste ¿a usted no? Creimos que eras un fantasma.
—Fue efecto de la niebla —dijo Sylvia.
Cruzó la puerta y salió al patio. Del todo a salvo.
—Sí.
—Y además los faros de ese coche.
—Fue como una aparición —Clark se había recuperado.
Se alegró de haber encontrado esa palabra.
—Sí.
—La cabra del espacio sideral. Eso es lo que eres. Eres una condenada cabra del espacio sideral —repitió, acariciando a Flora.
Pero cuando Sylvia extendió la mano para hacer lo mismo —en la otra mano todavía tenía la bolsa con la ropa usada por Carla—, Flora bajó de inmediato la cabeza como dispuesta a dar un buen topetazo.
—Las cabras son impredecibles —comentó Clark—. Pueden parecer mansas, pero no lo son. Cuando ya están criadas no lo son.
—¿Flora ya está criada? Parece tan pequeña…
—Nunca será más grande de lo que es.
Se quedaron mirando a la cabra como si esperaran que les fuera a dar más tema de conversación. Pero por lo visto no iba a ser así. Desde ese momento no podrían avanzar ni retroceder. Sylvia creyó ver que una sombra de pesar cruzaba la cara de Clark.
El lo reconoció y dijo:
—Es tarde.
—Supongo que sí —como si se tratara de una visita cualquiera.
—Vamos, Flora, es hora de volver a casa.
—Ya me las arreglaré para conseguir quien me ayude si lo necesito. De cualquier modo, de momento creo que no hará falta —añadió casi riéndose—. Los dejaré en paz.
—Seguro. Será mejor que entre. Se va a enfriar.
—Antes la gente creía que las nieblas nocturnas eran maléficas.
—Eso sí que es una novedad para mí.
—Bien, pues, buenas noches. Buenas noches, Flora.
Sonó el teléfono.
—Con su permiso —dijo Sylvia.
Clark levantó la mano y se dio vuelta.
—Buenas noches.
Era Ruth.
—¡Ay! —contestó Sylvia—. Cambio de planes.


Alice Munro / Escapada


Alice Munro
Escapada
RBA, Barcelona, 2009.




THE GOAT
by Alice Munro

The door was not locked. And it occurred to Sylvia that she should be locking it now, not opening it, but it was too late, she had it open.
And nobody there.
Yet she was sure, sure, that the knocking had been real.
She closed the door and this time she locked it.
There was a playful sound, a tinkling tapping sound, coming from the wall of windows. She switched the light on, but saw nothing there, and switched it off again. Some animal—maybe a squirrel? The French doors leading to the patio had not been locked, either. Not even really closed, since she had left them open an inch or so to air the house. She started to close them, and then somebody laughed, close by, close enough to be in the room with her.
“It’s me,” a man said. “Did I scare you?”
He was pressed against the glass of the door; he was right beside her.
“It’s Clark,” he said. “Clark from down the road.”
She was not going to ask him in, but she was afraid to shut the door in his face. He might grab it before she could get it closed. She didn’t want to turn on the light, either. She slept in a T-shirt. She should have pulled the quilt from the sofa and wrapped it around herself, but it was too late now.
“Did you want to get dressed?” he said. “What I got in here could be the very things you need.”
He had a shopping bag in his hand. He thrust it at her, but did not try to move forward with it.
“What?” she said in a choppy voice.
“Look and see. It’s not a bomb. There, take it.”
She felt inside the bag, not looking. Something soft. And then she recognized the buttons of the jacket, the silk of the shirt, the belt on the pants.
“Just thought you’d better have them back,” he said. “They’re yours, aren’t they?”
She tightened her jaw so that her teeth wouldn’t chatter. A fearful dryness had attacked her mouth and throat.
“I understood they were yours,” he said.
Her tongue moved like a wad of wool. She forced herself to say, “Where’s Carla?”
“You mean my wife Carla?”
Now she could see his face more clearly. She could see how he was enjoying himself.
“My wife Carla is at home in bed. Where she belongs.”
He was both handsome and silly-looking. Tall, lean, well built, but with a slouch that seemed artificial. A contrived, self-conscious air of menace. A lock of dark hair falling over his forehead, a vain little mustache, eyes that appeared both hopeful and mocking, a boyish smile perpetually on the verge of a sulk.
She had always disliked the sight of him—she had mentioned her dislike to Leon, who said that the man was just unsure of himself, just a bit too friendly. The fact that he was unsure of himself would not make her any safer.
“Pretty worn out,” he said. “After her little adventure. You should have seen your face—you should have seen the look on you when you recognized those clothes. What did you think? Did you think I’d murdered her?”
“I was surprised,” Sylvia said.
“I bet you were. After you were such a big help to her running away.”
“I helped her—” Sylvia said with considerable effort. “I helped her because she seemed to be in distress.”
“Distress,” he said, as if examining the word. ‘‘I guess she was. She was in very big distress when she jumped off that bus and got on the phone to me to come and get her. She was crying so hard I could hardly make out what it was she was saying.”
“She wanted to come back?”
“Oh, yeah. You bet she wanted to come back. She was in real hysterics to come back. She is a girl who is very up and down in her emotions. But I guess you don’t know her as well as I do.”
“She seemed quite happy to be going.”
“Did she really? Well, I have to take your word for it. I didn’t come here to argue with you.”
Sylvia said nothing.
“Actually, I came here not just to return those clothes. I came here to tell you that I don’t appreciate you interfering in my life with my wife.”
“She is a human being,” Sylvia said, though she knew that it would be better if she could keep quiet. “Besides being your wife.”
“My goodness, is that so? My wife is a human being? Really? Thank you for the information. But don’t try getting smart with me. Sylvia.”
“I wasn’t trying to get smart.”
“Good. I’m glad you weren’t. I don’t want to get mad. I just have a couple of important things to say to you. One thing—that I don’t want you sticking your nose in anywhere, anytime, in my life. Another—that I’m not going to want her coming around here anymore. Not that she is going to want to come, I’m pretty sure of that. She doesn’t have too good an opinion of you at the moment. And it’s time you learned how to clean your own house. Now—” he said. “Now. Has that sunk in?”
“Quite sufficiently.”
“Oh, I really hope it has. I hope so.”
Sylvia said, “Yes.”
“And you know what else I think?”
“What?”
“I think you owe me something.”
“What?”
“I think you owe me—you owe me an apology.”
Sylvia said, “All right. If you think so. I’m sorry.”
He shifted, perhaps just to put out his hand, and with the movement of his body she shrieked.
He laughed. He put his hand on the doorframe to make sure she didn’t close it.
What’s that?”
“What’s what?” he said, as if she were trying out a trick and it would not work. But then he caught sight of something reflected in the window, and he snapped around to look.
Not far from the house was a wide shallow patch of land that often filled up with night fog at this time of year. The fog was there tonight, had been there all this while. But now the fog had changed. It had thickened, taken on a separate shape, transformed itself into something spiky and radiant. First, a live dandelion ball, tumbling forward, then it condensed itself into an unearthly sort of animal, pure white, hellbent, something like a giant unicorn rushing at them.
“Jesus Christ,” Clark said softly. He grabbed hold of Sylvia’s shoulder. This touch did not alarm her at all—she accepted it with the knowledge that he did it either to protect her or to reassure himself.
Then the vision exploded. Out of the fog, and out of the magnifying light—now revealed to be that of a car travelling along this back road, probably in search of a place to park—out of this appeared a white goat. A little dancing white goat, hardly bigger than a sheepdog.
Clark let go. He said, “Where the Christ did you come from?”
“It’s your goat,” Sylvia said. “Isn’t it your goat?”
“Flora,” he said. “Flora.”
The goat had stopped a yard or so away from them, had turned shy, and hung her head.
“Flora,” Clark said. “Where the hell did you come from? You scared the shit out of us.”
Us.
Flora came closer but still did not look up. She butted against Clark’s legs.
“Goddam stupid animal,” he said shakily.
“She was lost,” Sylvia said.
“Yeah. She was. Never thought we’d see her again, actually.”
Flora looked up. The moonlight caught a glitter in her eyes.
“Scared the shit out of us,” Clark said to her. “We thought you were a ghost.”
“It was the effect of the fog,” Sylvia said. She stepped out of the door now, onto the patio. Quite safe.
“Yeah.”
“Then the lights of that car.”
“Like an apparition,” he said, recovering. And pleased that he had thought of this description.
“Yes.”
“The goat from outer space. That’s what you are. You are a goddam goat from outer space,” he said, patting Flora. But when Sylvia put out her hand to do the same Flora immediately lowered her head as if preparing to butt.
“Goats are unpredictable,” Clark said. “They can seem tame but they’re not really. Not after they grow up.”
“Is she grown up? She looks so small.”
“She’s as big as she’s ever going to get.”
They stood looking down at the goat, as if hoping that she would provide them with more conversation. But she apparently was not going to. From this moment, they could go neither forward nor back. Sylvia believed that she might have seen a shadow of regret in his eyes that this was so.
But he acknowledged it. He said, “It’s late.”
“I guess it is,” Sylvia said, just as if this had been an ordinary visit.
“O.K., Flora. Time for us to go home.”
“I’ll make other arrangements for help if I need it,” she said. “I probably won’t need it now, anyway.” She added lightly, “I’ll stay out of your hair.”
“Sure,” he said. “You’d better get inside. You’ll get cold.”
“Good night,” she said. “Good night, Flora.”
The phone rang then.
“Excuse me.”
“Good night.”
It was Ruth.
“Ah,” Sylvia said. “A change in plans.”