The Female of the Species by Lionel Shriver Read Free Book Online Page B

“No shit. You’re crying.”
    Gray looked down. Tears fell on the bed frame.
    Charles put the rifle aside and pulled her over to sit beside him. Her sharp shoulders were drawn to her head; she looked narrow. Charles put his hand on her cheek, turning her head to face him. “Having nightmares about terrible Charlie Corgie, who doesn’t care about six million Jews?”
    Gray shook her head and looked away again.
    “You miss Mommy and Daddy?”
    “Don’t make fun of me,” said Gray, wiping her nose on her sleeve.
    Charles pulled the hair from her eyes strand by strand and tucked it behind her ear. “What’s the trouble?”
    “It’s stupid.”
    Charles waited patiently.
    “All this god business,” she went on. “You didn’t tell me what to do—” She stamped her foot and looked at the ceiling. “I’m not usually shy! Charles, I need the bathroom! I have for hours!”
    It must have been hard not to laugh, but according to Gray he didn’t; he barely smiled. Charles cocked his head. His eyes were as warm and soft as they were going to get in the hard cool light of the moon. “That isn’t stupid, Miss Anthropologist. You’re new to your field or you’d know better. For a god, taking a leak is a serious business. You have to be careful. Quiet.” He led Gray to a corner, where she slid down a pole to the foliage below. When she returned Charles lifted her back up. He wasn’t a massive man but could pull her whole weight with obvious ease. When she was up, Charles kept hold of her hand a moment, then with a funny annoyance let go and told her to get back to sleep. As she was settling back down on the slats this time, again with irritation, he tossed her his feather pillow before turning his back on her with a grunt and wrapping his arms fondly around the muzzle of his gun.

4
    “I’ve decided what to do with you,” said Charles cheerfully the next morning. He was shaving, with a sheet of polished aluminum from the siding of his airplane propped up for a mirror.
    “Oh?” asked Gray warily, still groggy and on the floor.
    “Yes.” Charles raised his chin in the air to sweep the razor underneath. “I’ve decided to let you go.”
    The blade made a sheer scraping sound that raised the hair on Gray’s arms. “I did not come here,” said Gray, “to go.”
    “You shouldn’t have come here at all,” said Charles. “You made a mistake. Usually when we make mistakes, that’s it. But: you are dealing with Little Jesus. You have your own personal fairy godfather. Click your heels together and in your case it will work.”
    Gray picked herself up in order to get a better view of his face. Charles did not look at her but scrutinized his chin more closely. There was a bullet hole in the siding, and his stubble distorted and rippled in the aluminum.
    “Aren’t you concerned that I’ll tell?” asked Gray slowly. “About you? About Toroto?”
    “Now, why would you do that? When I’ve been so gracious? And these people have someone to take care of them?”
    Charles may not have been looking at Gray, but Gray was certainly looking at Charles now, very very carefully. “Because I’m an anthropologist. I’d want to come back with reinforcements.”
    “So military! And I thought we were friends.”
    “You’re the one who sees this village as one more battle of World War II.”
    “Against them, not you, sweetheart.”
    “Sweetheart is on their side.”
    Charles clucked his tongue. “No racial loyalty.”
    “The point is, I’d have every reason to return here with company. You’ve murdered people here. This is a British colony. You could be arrested.”
    “Miss Kaiser, are you trying to convince me to shoot you?”
    “I’m not telling you anything you haven’t already thought about.”
    Charles said nothing. It seemed to Gray he should have finished shaving by now. His face looked smooth. Still, Charles picked at individual patches with great attention.
    “What are you planning to do, turn me