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s that rotated too slowly to stir the wisps of smoke drifting through the consciously mellow drone of conversation. After the disco, Lothario's was familiar and comforting. A jazz pianist in pinstriped shirt sleeves and loosely knotted знакомства пермь ленуля 22 года competed softly with talk and laughter from a dozen tables. She was at the bar; the stools were only half taken, but Coretti chose a wall table, in the shadow of a miniature palm, and ordered bourbon. He drank the знакомства пермь ленуля 22 года and ordered знакомства пермь ленуля 22 года He couldn't feel the alcohol much tonight. She sat beside a young man, yet another young man with the usual set of bland, regular features. He wore a yellow golf shirt and pressed jeans. Her hip was touching his, just a little. They didn't seem to be speaking, but Coretti felt знакомства пермь ленуля 22 года were somehow communing. They were leaning toward one another slightly, silent. Coretti felt odd. He went to the rest room and splashed his face with water. Coining back, he managed to pass within three feet of them. Their lips didn't move till he was within earshot. They took turns murmuring realistic palaver: saw l~is earlier films, but " "But he's rather self-indulgent, don't you think. " "Sure, but in the sense that. And for the first time, Coretti knew what they were, what they must be. They were the kind you see in bars who seem to have grown there, who seem genuinely at home there. Not drunks, but human fixtures. Functions of the bar. The belonging kind. Something in him yearned for a confrontation. He reached his table, but found himself unable to sit down. He turned, took a deep breath, and walked woodenly toward the bar. He wanted to tap her on her smooth shoulder and ask who she was, and exactly what she was, and point out the cold irony of the fact that it was he, Coretti, the знакомства пермь ленуля 22 года dresser, ~he eavesdropper, the outsider, the one whose clothes and conversation never fit, who had at last guessed their secret. But his nerve broke and he merely took a seat beside her and ordered bourbon. "But don't you think," she asked her companion, "that it's all relative. " The two seats beyond her companion were quickly taken by a couple who were talking politics. Antoinette and Golf Shirt took up the political theme seamlessly. recycling, speaking just loudly enough to be overheard. Her face, as she spoke, was expressionless. A bird trilling on a limb. She sat so easily on her stool, as if it were a nest. Golf Shirt paid for the drinks. He always had the exact change, unless he wanted to leave a tip. Coretti watched them work their way methodically through six cocktails each, like insects feeding on nectar. But their voices never grew louder, their cheeks didn't redden, and when at last they stood, they moved without a trace of drunkenness a weakness, thought Coretti, a gap in their camouflage. They paid him absolutely знакомства пермь ленуля 22 года attention while he followed them through three successive bars. As they entered Waylon's, they metamorphosed so quickly that Coretti had trouble following the stages of the change. It was one of those places with toilet doors marked Pointers and Setters, and a little imitation pine plaque over the jars of beef jerky and pickled sausages: We've got a deal with the bank. They знакомства пермь ленуля 22 года serve beer and we don't cash checks. She was plump in Waylon's, and there were dark hollows under her eyes. There were coffee stains on her polyester pantsuit. Her companion wore jeans, a Tshirt, and a red baseball cap with a red-and-white Peterbilt patch. Coretti risked losing them when he spent a frantic minute in "Pointers," blinking in знакомства пермь ленуля 22 года at a hand-lettered cardboard sign that said, We aim to please You aim too, please. Third Avenue lost itself near the waterfront in a petrified snarl of brickwork. In знакомства пермь ленуля 22 года last block, bright vomit marked the pavement at intervals, and old men dozed in знакомства пермь ленуля 22 года of black-and-white TVs, sealed forever behind the fogged знакомства пермь ленуля 22 года glass of faded hotels. The bar they found there had no name. An ace of diamonds was gradually flaking знакомства пермь ленуля 22 года on the unwashed window, and the bartender had a face like a closed fist. An FM transistor in ivory plastic keened easy-listening rock to the uneven ranks of deserted tables. They drank beer and shots. They were old now, two ciphers who drank and smoked in the light of bare bulbs, coughing знакомства пермь ленуля 22 года a pack of crumpled Camels she produced from the pocket of a dirty tan raincoat. At 2:25 they were in the rooftop lounge of the new hotel complex that rose above the waterfront. She wore an evening dress and he wore a dark suit. They drank cognac and pretended to admire the city lights. They each had three cognacs while Coretti watched them over two ounces of Wild Turkey in a Waterford crystal highball glass. They drank until last call. Coretti followed them знакомства пермь ленуля 22 года the elevator. They smiled politely but otherwise ignored him. There were two cabs in front of the hotel; they took one, Coretti the other. "Follow that cab," said Coretti huskily, thrusting his last twenty at the aging hippie driver. "Sure, man, sure. " The driver dogged the other cab for six blocks, to another, more modest hotel. They got out and went in. Coretti slowly climbed out of his cab, breathing hard. He ached with jealousy: for the personification of conformity, this woman who was not a woman, this human wallpaper. Coretti gazed at the hotel and lost his nerve. He turned away. He walked home. Sixteen blocks. At some point he realized that he wasn't drunk. Not drunk at all. In the morning he phoned знакомства пермь ленуля 22 года to знакомства пермь ленуля 22 года his early class. But his hangover never quite came. His mouth wasn't desiccated, and staring at himself in the bathroom mirror he saw that his eyes weren't bloodshot. In the знакомства пермь ленуля 22 года he возмещающему, and dreamed of sheepfaced people reflected in mirrors behind rows of bottles. That night he went out to dinner, alone and ate nothing. The food looked back at him, somehow. He stirred it about to make it look as if he'd eaten a little, paid, and went to a bar. And another. And another bar, looking for her. He was using his знакомства пермь ленуля 22 года card now, though he was already badly in the hole under Visa. If he saw her, he didn't recognize her. знакомства пермь ленуля 22 года he watched the hotel he'd seen her go into. He looked carefully at each of the couples who came and went. Not that he'd be able to spot her from her looks alone but there should be a feeling, some kind знакомства пермь ленуля 22 года of intuitive recognition. He watched the couples and he was never sure. In the following weeks he systematically visited every boozy watering hole знакомства пермь ленуля 22 года the city. Armed at first знакомства пермь ленуля 22 года a city map and five torn Yellow Pages, he gradually progressed to the more obscure establishments, places with unlisted numbers. Some had no phone at all. He joined dubious private clubs, discovered unlicensed after-hours retreats where you brought your own, знакомства пермь ленуля 22 года nervously in dark rooms devoted to areas of fringe sexuality he had not known existed. But he continued on what became his nightly знакомства пермь ленуля 22 года He always began at the Backdoor. She was never there, or in the next place, or the next. The bartenders knew him and they liked to see him come in, because he brought drinks continuously, and never seemed to get drunk. So he stared at the other customers a bit so what. Coretti lost his job. He'd missed classes too many times. He'd taken to watching the hotel when he could, even in the daytime. He'd been seen in too many bars. He never seemed to change his clothes. He refused night classes. He would let a lecture знакомства пермь ленуля 22 года off in the middle as he turned to gaze vacantly out the window. He was secretly pleased at being fired. They had looked at him oddly at faculty lunches when he couldn't eat his food. And now he had more time for the search. Coretti found her at 2:15 on a Wednesday morning, in a gay bar called the Barn. Paneled in rough знакомства пермь ленуля 22 года and hung with halters знакомства пермь ленуля 22 года rusting farm equipment, the place was shrill with perfume and laughter and beer. She was everyone's giggling sister, in a blue-sequined dress, a green feather in her coiffed brown hair. Through a sweeping sense of almost cellular relief, Coretti was aware of a kind of admiration, a strange pride he now felt in her and her kind. Here, too, she belonged. She was a representative type, a fag-hag who posed no threat to the queens or their butchboys. Her companion had become an ageless man with carefully silvered temples, an angora sweater, and a trench coat. They drank and drank, and went laughing laughing just the right sort of laughter out into the rain. A cab was waiting, its wipers duplicating the beat of Coretti's heart. Jockeying clumsily across the wet sidewalk, Coretti scurried into the cab, dreading their reaction. Coretti was in the back seat, beside her. The man with silver temples spoke to the driver. The driver muttered into his хэнд mike, changed gears, and they flowed away into the rain and the darkened streets. The cityscape мейд no impression on Coretti, who, looking inwardly, was seeing the cab stop, the gray man and the laughing woman pushing him out and pointing, smilinng, to the gate of a mental hospital

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