Containing A Travesty (novel) and Ordo (novelette)
Well, she was dead, and there was no use crying over spilt milk. I released her wrist–no pulse–and looked around the room, while fragments of imaginary conversations unreeled in my mind:
“And you say you hit her?”
“Well, not that hard. She slipped on the floor, that’s all, and smacked her head on the coffee table.”
“As a result of you hitting her.”
“As a result of her polishing the goddam floor all the goddam time.”
– A Travesty
I was shaving the next morning when I suddenly remembered that picture, the one in the magazine of Estelle and me on our wedding day. We were squinting there in the sunlight, the both of us, and now I was squinting again because the light bulb over the mirror was too bright. Shaving, I looked at myself, looked at my nose and my eyes and my ears, and here I was. I was still here. The same guy. The same short haircut, same eyebrows, same chin.
The same guy.
Then I thought: Estelle changed. Estelle Anlic is Dawn Devayne now, but I’m still me. Ordo Tupikos, the same guy. But if she was–If I’m–
It was hard even to figure out the question. If she was that back then, and if she’s this now, and if I was that…