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Novels by Mary Marcus
New on the Blog
Where Your Eyes Were
Nate had been teaching Tatiana how to practice yoga. Because of her own need for unobstructed space, Tatiana’s uncluttered apartment was a great place to lay down a mat. Her practice was really coming along. Her dog Lancelot, the black poodle, seemed to like seeing her moving from up dog to down dog, and being a genius, often did a down dog along next to her. If she forgot to roll up the mat, it would become the black poodle’s favorite sprawl place. Whenever he looked up and saw Lancelot on the mat, her great black poodle smiled at him. Photo: Joel Goodman How does a blind person learn how to practice yoga? The same way a blind person learns how to do anything physical: concentration, skill and determination. Nate had been Tatiana’s sexual surrogate. They had fallen in love as it happened, but Nate had refused to see her anymore. He was married and loved his wife. Then Nate’s wife’s mother got sick. And she went back East to care for her. It was open ended because his wife worked on her computer anywhere. As much as he hated admitting it—he liked his mother-in-law—it had been a Godsend. Tatiana was the loveliest, funniest, sexiest woman he had ever met. He was totally hooked on her. It was wrong. He would end it. But not now. “Should I keep my mask on when you take me to your class?” she had asked playfully that morning when he suggested it. “Up to you!” “What do they look like to you, where my eyes used to be?” He told her the...Redemption
On Saturday morning, Lady unpacks her Lady Smith .38 from her purse and decides not to kill the man who took her virginity all those years ago, not tonight anyway. Instead, she texts him she has to break the date they had planned (their fourth) and she’d be in touch next week. Lady had insinuated herself into his life and now the former cherry popper is halfway in love with her. He texts back an emoticon crying. To keep buttering him up, she texts back the one with the hands praying. Tough shit. Let him suffer. After that, she texts Blue from yoga, who she’s hot for and invites him to dinner. “Wanna go skiing or to Nate’s class?” she asks the next morning. “I haven’t seen you there lately, are you still practicing?” Blue loves the “practicing.” It makes him feel part of something bigger than himself. As for Nate, whom he has been hired to kill, he still can’t face it. Even with Endless showing up, pointing at his watch, appearing in the doorway of the café where he gets his morning cappuccino. Endless whom he thinks of as the devil or the Angel of Death. Why does Endless want Nate dead? Once upon a time, Blue would not have cared for reasons why. Killing was necessary from time to time. But killing Nate actually feels like a sin. Photo: Joel Goodman Blue’s exposure to sin began in reform school decades ago and continued on to prison with the chaplains, the Rabbis and the various members of the cloth who bring with them canned goodness as fake...Stumbling Block
Endless knows something is up the instant he steps in the door of Tatiana’s apartment on a grey day in February. Here on one of the highest floors in Westwood, with the huge plate glass windows facing west above the Veteran’s Administration complex, the sky is greyish and the air is thick. The green of the VA is indistinct; other lower buildings are just smudges; a mixture of smog and fog. When his cell phone tells him the air quality is moderate, he knows it means the air is shit. His eyes are red and he can’t breathe so well. Was it his imagination or did the doorman downstairs give him a funny look a few minutes ago, as if he wasn’t welcome? Usually he waves him through but today he ostentatiously calls before Endless is allowed to ride up. When he tries the door it’s locked, usually it’s unlocked. He doesn’t like that feeling. Tatiana unsmilingly greets him, dressed very plainly in jeans and a white shirt. No lipstick, no rouge, and she’s sporting her unadorned dark glasses with the black plastic frames, which means she’s in a serious mood. With her black hair, her very white skin and pale lips, she looks like a vampire, another turn on. Everything about Tatiana turns him on. Obviously her assistant hasn’t come today to do her makeup. Lancelot, the poodle, with his bright black hair and jeweled collar looks more noticeably groomed than she is. Photo: Joel Goodman “Sit, Greg,” she tells him, as if he’s the dog. The poodle is sprawled luxuriously on the couch beside her. Endless reaches...
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