Edible Woman - Margaret Atwood [124]
28
It had not occurred to her that Duncan might not be in the laundromat. When she finally reached it and pulled open the glass door, breathless but relieved at having got that far at all, it was a shock to find it empty. She couldn’t believe it. She stood, confronted only by the long white row of machines, not knowing where to move. She hadn’t considered the time beyond that imagined encounter.
Then she saw a wisp of smoke ascending from one of the chairs at the far end. It would have to be him. She walked forward.
He was sitting slouched so far down that only the top of his head was showing over the back of the chair, his eyes fixed on the round window of the machine directly in front of him. There was nothing inside it. He didn’t look up as she sat down in the chair beside his.
“Duncan,” she said. He didn’t answer.
She took off her gloves and stretched out one of her hands, touching his wrist. He jumped.
“I’m here,” she said.
He looked at her. His eyes were even more shadowed than usual, more deeply sunk in the sockets, the skin of his face bloodless in the fluorescent light. “Oh. So you are. The Scarlet Woman herself. What time is it?”
“I don’t know,” she said, “I haven’t got my watch on.”
“What’re you doing here? You’re supposed to be at the party.”
“I couldn’t stay there any longer,” she said, “I had to come and find you.”
“Why?”
She couldn’t think of a reason that wouldn’t sound absurd. “Because I just wanted to be with you.”
He looked at her suspiciously and took another drag on his cigarette. “Now listen, you should be back there. It’s your duty, what’s-his-name needs you.”
“No, you need me more than he does.”
As soon as she had said it, it sounded true. Immediately she felt noble.
He grinned. “No I don’t. You think I need to be rescued but I don’t. Anyway I don’t like being a test case for amateur social-workers.” He shifted his eyes back to the washing machine.
Marian fidgeted with the leather fingers of one of her gloves. “But I’m not trying to rescue you,” she said. She realized he had tricked her into contradicting herself.
“Then maybe you want me to rescue you? What from? I thought you had it all worked out. And you know I’m totally inept anyway.” He sounded faintly smug about his own helplessness.
“Oh, let’s not talk about rescuing,” Marian said desperately. “Can’t we just go some place?” She wanted to get out. Even talking was impossible in this white room with its rows of glass windows and its all-pervading smell of soap and bleach.
“What’s wrong with here?” he said. “I sort of like it here.”
Marian wanted to shake him. “That isn’t what I mean,” she said.
“Oh,” he said. “Oh, that. You mean tonight’s the night, it’s now or never.” He dug out another cigarette and lit it. “Well, we can’t go to my place, you know.”
“We can’t go to mine either.” For a moment she wondered why not, she was moving out anyway. But Ainsley might turn up, or Peter.…
“We could stay here, it suggests interesting possibilities. Maybe inside one of the machines, we could hang your red dress over the window to keep out the dirty old men.…”
“Oh come on,” she said, standing up.
He stood up too. “Okay, I’m flexible. I guess it’s about time I found out the real truth. Where are we going?”
“I suppose,” she said, “we will have to find some sort of hotel.” She was vague about how they were going to get the thing accomplished, but tenaciously certain that it had to be done. It was the only way.
Duncan smiled wickedly. “You mean I’ll have to pretend you’re my wife?” he said. “In those earrings? They’ll never believe it. They’ll accuse you of corrupting a minor.”
“I don’t care,” she said. She reached up and began to unscrew one of the earrings.
“Oh, leave them on for now,” Duncan said. “You don’t want to spoil the effect.”
When they were outside on the street she had a sudden horrible thought. “Oh no,” she said, standing still.
“What’s the matter?”
“I don’t have any money!” Of course she hadn’t thought she would