Читать книгу Heathcliff Redux - Lily Tuck - Страница 35

The South, the South. I hated the South. I hated the hypocrisy, the phony gentile manners, the accent, the racism. In all the years—ten—that I had lived in Virginia, I had not met a single black person. The only black persons I knew to speak to—“hi there,” “how’re you doing,” and “thanks”—were the baggers in the supermarket, the boy who pumped gas into the truck, a girl at a roadside stand who, in summer, sold peaches, and the woman who came to the house once a week to clean and whose name was Alice Washington.

Washington—for God’s sake!