With the downpour on the roof, a dormant1 seed of self had been watered, and a bit of thehumidity of Tommy lifted. I gained just enough confidence to appear defiant2. Look, I—both of us—knew we were at the end of the road long before I left. I began leaving inincrements, and in response, Tommy started making desperate last-minute attempts to getme to stay. He bought me a gorgeous but pointless Carnival3 red convertible4 Jaguar5 with acrème leather interior and matching drop top. It sat in the driveway of our thirty-million-dollar mansion—one more expensive thing to add to the lavish6 scrap7 heap that was ourmarriage.
One evening I was working with two men I had a significant creative and professionalrelationship with, whose duty it was to have moblike loyalty8 to Tommy. These three men,to whose wealth and prominence9 I had contributed considerably10, and I were sitting in thekitchen, about to have a meal break. Even though we were all “friends” sitting around thetable, facing a large, rustic11 fireplace with the now sadly ironic12 phrase “Storybook Manor”
etched in the limestone13 mantel (I named it that, desperately14 believing I could wish and willmy nightmare into a fairy tale), the atmosphere was anything but warm. It was cold, quiet,and pungent15 with pain and conflict, evidence to all that a dynamic in me had shifted. Ithink it embarrassed Tommy that he had lost control and lost his “woman” in front of his“boys.” Embarrassment16 enraged17 him.
He began an awkward and creepy little rant18 about the beautiful car he had just givenme, and our fabulous19 estate (which I designed and half financed), and how in spite of all ofit, I wanted to leave him. I was sitting still, looking down at the table, when Tommywalked over and picked up the butter knife from the place setting in front of me. Hepressed the flat side of it against my right cheek.
Every muscle in my face clenched20. My entire body locked in place; my lungsstiffened. Tommy held the knife there. His boys watched and didn’t say a word. Afterwhat seemed like forever, he slowly dragged the thin, cool strip of metal down my burningface. I was searing with rage from the excruciating humiliation21 of his terrifying, cowardlyperformance in my kitchen, in front of my “colleagues.”
That was his last show with me as the captive audience at Sing Sing.
So many I considered closest to me
Turned on a dime22 and sold me out dutifully
Although that knife was chipping away at me
They turned their eyes away and went home to sleep—“Petals”
I was locked way in the bathroom, which now felt like a mausoleum, sitting on theedge of the cold tub trying to muster23 up the courage to leave, completely. Then the wordssoftly came fluttering into my head: “Don’t be afraid to fly. Spread your wings. Open upthe door.” I hummed the melody, which would become “Fly Away (Butterfly Reprise).”
And I descended24 the grand stairway for the last time. I truly believed I was going to die inthat house I built in Bedford and haunt it forever. I could just see what they’d make of it: amorbid yet festive25 tourist attraction, “The Famous Ghost of Mariah Mansion,” like atasteful Graceland, where you could hear me hitting high notes in the halls at night.
When I finally walked away from Sing Sing, with little more than my wardrobe andpersonal photos, the only thing I really wanted from the house was the beautiful hand-carved mantelpiece. A masterful Eastern European craftsman26 had carved it exquisitely27 tomy very specific design directions. As I was leaving the house, I ran my fingers along itssmooth and intricate curves for a final farewell. Only then did I notice there was a butterflyin the center of the heart that was in the center of the structure. I did not request it but itsopen wings were the sign I so desperately needed when I let that door close behind me.
Natural disasters eventually tore down all the walls that held so much of my misery28. Afew years after I left Sing Sing, it burned down to the ground. And Hillsjail wascompletely destroyed by a tornado29. I was in my Manhattan penthouse when I received acall from a woman who was the former owner of my former house. She had removed themantel but put it into storage, because she found it so personal and thought I might want it.
I retrieved30 it and had it painted a fresh white lacquer, just as Marilyn did with her mother’spiano. That mantel is now in my most personal room in my house, along with my familyphotographs and other precious things of mine. And I didn’t let my spirit die.

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收听单词发音

1
dormant
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adj.暂停活动的;休眠的;潜伏的 | |
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2
defiant
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adj.无礼的,挑战的 | |
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3
carnival
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n.嘉年华会,狂欢,狂欢节,巡回表演 | |
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4
convertible
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adj.可改变的,可交换,同意义的;n.有活动摺篷的汽车 | |
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5
jaguar
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n.美洲虎 | |
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lavish
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adj.无节制的;浪费的;vt.慷慨地给予,挥霍 | |
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7
scrap
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n.碎片;废料;v.废弃,报废 | |
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8
loyalty
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n.忠诚,忠心 | |
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prominence
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n.突出;显著;杰出;重要 | |
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10
considerably
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adv.极大地;相当大地;在很大程度上 | |
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11
rustic
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adj.乡村的,有乡村特色的;n.乡下人,乡巴佬 | |
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12
ironic
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adj.讽刺的,有讽刺意味的,出乎意料的 | |
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13
limestone
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n.石灰石 | |
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desperately
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adv.极度渴望地,绝望地,孤注一掷地 | |
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pungent
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adj.(气味、味道)刺激性的,辛辣的;尖锐的 | |
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16
embarrassment
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n.尴尬;使人为难的人(事物);障碍;窘迫 | |
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17
enraged
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使暴怒( enrage的过去式和过去分词 ); 歜; 激愤 | |
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18
rant
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v.咆哮;怒吼;n.大话;粗野的话 | |
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19
fabulous
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adj.极好的;极为巨大的;寓言中的,传说中的 | |
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20
clenched
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v.紧握,抓紧,咬紧( clench的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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21
humiliation
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n.羞辱 | |
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22
dime
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n.(指美国、加拿大的钱币)一角 | |
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23
muster
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v.集合,收集,鼓起,激起;n.集合,检阅,集合人员,点名册 | |
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24
descended
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a.为...后裔的,出身于...的 | |
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25
festive
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adj.欢宴的,节日的 | |
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26
craftsman
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n.技工,精于一门工艺的匠人 | |
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exquisitely
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adv.精致地;强烈地;剧烈地;异常地 | |
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misery
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n.痛苦,苦恼,苦难;悲惨的境遇,贫苦 | |
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29
tornado
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n.飓风,龙卷风 | |
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retrieved
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v.取回( retrieve的过去式和过去分词 );恢复;寻回;检索(储存的信息) | |
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