The Best American Science Fiction and Fantasy 2021
- Автор: Рот Вероника, Адамс Джон Джозеф
- Год: 2021
- Язык: английский
- Год: HMH Books : Mariner
- ISBN: 9780358470076
- Жанр: Малые литературные формы прозы
Электронная книга - «The Best American Science Fiction and Fantasy 2021». Краткое содержание книги:
This year’s selection of science fiction and fantasy stories, chosen by series editor John Joseph Adams and bestselling author of the Divergent series Veronica Roth, showcases a crop of authors that are willing to experiment and tantalize readers with new takes on classic themes and by exchanging the ordinary for the avant-garde. Folktales and lore come alive, the dead rise, the depths of space are traversed, and magic threads itself through singular moments of love and loss, illuminating the circulatory nature of life, death, the in-between, and the hereafter.
The Best American Science Fiction and Fantasy 2021 captures the all-too-real cataclysm of human nature, claiming its place in the series with compelling prose, lyrical composition, and curiosity’s never-ending pursuit of discovering the unknown.
Wasn’t no trouble to gather de bottles. Me husband, Franklin, we does call him Boy-oh even doh he is two years older dan me and ain’t no ways childlike, and we four children—I know you ain’t bound to remember dere names but I gon’ call dem for you anyway cause dey precious and important to me—Gloria, Kenyatta, Rue, and Finality. Dey all like soda pop and beer, so it have plenty bottles in de trash. I fish dem out and hide dem under de casha bush in de backyard ’til I have enough. Bout thirty.
A Saturday come when I in de house alone. I try do de ting.
Well, mehson, was a lot harder dan in me imagination. I lay all de bottles out in de yard, close to de casha bush, in case I have to shove dem back quickly to hide. Me ain’t want nobody asking me what I doing. Me ain’t know meself why I doing dis irrational ting, plus sneaking ’round like I ain’t have de right to soda and beer bottles in me own house, me own garbage. I take off me yard slippers and rest me big toe on one Brow Cream soda bottle, testing. First ting, it hot. Hotter dan hot sand at de beach. Me ain’t expect dat and me foot jump back like it had meet wid Jack Spaniard sting. I stare down de hill to de blue of de ocean, imagining de coolness soothing me big toe.
“Mommy, what you doing?”
Me youngest home from majorette practice. I suppose to pick she up at five thirty. Who de rass give she a ride home? Make she sneak up on me like dis?
“What you mean what I doing? You ain’t see me tallying up dese bottles for de recycling?”
“De governor said we aren’t doing dat anymore, remember? He said if anybody recycling anything, it won’t be us. We’re sending all our garbage to dem stateside. Unsorted. Remember?”
She taking civics in she second year of high school. She know everyting. Finality. If I had know she was gon’ be so “last word-ish” I woulda name she “Dat’s enough, Rose,” instead.
“Well, I sorting. And recycling. Ain’t right to have all dis mess just sitting ’pon Muddah Earth like, like, like—” I fumbling now, cause I wasn’t expecting dis, “so much trash.” I know dat’s weak so I launch into full muddah tongue.
“And what you doing home so early? I was to come get you for five thirty. Who car you was riding in? Why you ain’t call me? Better not be dat Roland. I know from me cousin at de DMV he got car but no driver’s license. You sister in town too. You ain’t tink to look for she? Coulda saved me a trip. You father know where you are? What happen to practice? You and Miss Malveaux butting heads again?”
“Oh, Mommy,” she say, as if I is any and all kind a problem to she.
I watch she straight back as she move off heading to de side door. Jeez and bread, mehson, in addition to attitude she growing hips, too.
I put all de bottles back under de bush and go inside to start chopping vegetables for a salad. It Saturday, I don’t cook no hot meal on Saturday.
Boy-oh reach home from he netball coaching ’round seven thirty. He meet me in de living room wid me feet up on de couch listening to de radio. It have a show I like where people does go all ’round de world talking to Black musicians.
“Mable, how you do? You sick?” he say, like dis de first Saturday we spending together in all dese twenty-seven years and he ain’t know I ain’t cooking today.
“I good, man. How was practice?” I ain’t move off de couch. All de other days I does push and push and push ’til I exhausted. Boy-oh take tings in he stride, of course he do, he have me.
“Dem girls getting really good,” he say. “We might take championship dis year.”
He does say dis every year. He have more faith dan me because by de time de girls get good and know how to work together dey does go off to college.
“You ain’t cook?” He rest he haunches down on de couch next to me thighs, lean in close, and put he sweaty hand on me forehead, as if feeling for a fever. He drag he hand down me face and neck and let it rest on me right breast.
“Junie-Ann stop running from de ball den?” I take he hand down gently and hold it in me lap. De skin of he fingers thick and hard. He is a teacher but he built like he born to carry weight. He turn he fingers to knead me thigh. Watching dem young girls run ’round does always make him come home feeling randy.
“She getting better,” he say. “You know is she father dat push she into netball, but I tink she starting to enjoy it little bit.”
He raise up and go put he bag in de hall closet, get a beer from de fridge, and disappear into de bedroom to go bathe. I miss de part on de radio where dey had spell de name of de woman singer in Sweden.
“Good evening, beautiful brown full-bodied lady, how you do dis fine twilight? You smelling nice nice. I’d really like to give you some babies, about seventy-three or seventy-four would make us proud, don’t you tink? We’d make a lovely swarm together. Can I get a ride?”
“Really, Oswald. Is dat how you want to approach me?” Treevia tuck her wings in close, lower her hind parts protectively and waved she left antenna at Oswald as if clearing de air. “I see you. Yes, you handsome. Yes, you healthy-looking. Where you stay? I thought you was over by where de man does park de car, but me ain’t smell dat oil and gas odor on you.”
“Me dear Treevia, I could call you Treevia, right? Me wouldn’t dare harbor meself where me could be disturb from a sweet and restful slumber by de back-breaking pressure of one of dem brutish tires ending me life. No, desire of mine, I does relax over by de trash bins on de sunset side of de house. It not dat far. Is a great variety of eating places within walking distance. It got historical, traditional, innovative, vegetarian, pescatarian, and de usual fusion. You feeling hungry? Come by me for a while and let me tempt you.”
Oswald turn, hoping to be followed.
“You can stop showing off anytime now, Oswald. I have plenty children already.”
Treevia start to move off toward she nest at de base of de casha bush beside de hibiscus hedge. She had spent de night enjoying de warmth and aromas of de almost empty beer and soda bottles. But wid de sun on de rise she didn’t have time to be standing out here in de open refusing Oswald again.
“Besides,” she continue, “if I decide to make more babies, I demanding more dan a smear of mushy mess, de majority of which does end up dribbling down me legs, causing even more of all you to follow me ’round.”
“Is so it go? Treevia, you are certainly worth trailing behind. I always admire de fine way you carry youself. Come on over to my place. Let me feed you while you tell me your demands. Your coloring attracts me, dose lovely dark patches down your back. I would gaze at dem while we . . .”
“Ain’t gon’ be no gazing.”
Treevia turn to go.
Oswald scurry a little to her left. Maybe she hadn’t gotten a good look at his wings. How strong dey were. How unusually long. He flutter dem open, just a little.
“At least let me escort you to your nest.”
She changed direction.
“Oh, don’t be like dat, fine lady. I just want to ensure your safety. Wouldn’t want you to be prey for any hungry bird like dat bananaquit up dere in de flamboyant tree.”
Treevia look up. What bird? What bananaquit? She ain’t see no bird.
“And I’d protect our children just as well.”
Oswald opened he wings to their full extension. Face to face wid Treevia now. He grin.
I been practicing for over six months now. I does come out in de backyard for ’bout two hours in de middle of de night. Don’t nobody notice. If I sex up Boy-oh hard he does sleep like he dead. If he sex me too too good I mightn’ get up neither, but dat don’ happen enough to keep me from practice.