The Ginger Man - J. P. Donleavy [110]
Sebastian entered the side door of the Bleeding Horse. Lowered a Power's Gold Label. A man approached in British attire speaking French. I told him my bile was green. He said you speak French. Goo goo mick mick.
Out the door. Up the street. Down the steps. Peek in the window. Knock on the door. Shuffle of her slippers. Twinge of hesitation. In there is flesh I took against mine. I licked it, pinched, pushed, tickled. O aye, her buzzuma. And when I've felt a bottom like hers I won't forget too fast or ever. I ask you heart to stop beating like the hammers of hell. Here comes her hair round the door.
"Me"
"O."
"May I come in? Please. I know me big foul man. Big beast. All that. I know. But"
"You reek with drink."
"Chris, cross my heart, like any good Romish Papist"
"Come in then. Sit down. No need to stand. Sit. I don't want to be used. Just like some shoe you put your foot in. Why haven't you come to see me before this ? "
"I'm leaving for London on the mail boat in an hour. Cheer up"
"I won't cheer up. Not for your leather soul."
"Whoops. Wait a minute. Now I don't want you to feel like that. Please. Not the leather soul. Maybe plaster or jade."
"Why didn't you tell me before this? Your affairs were in a mess and there were some misunderstandings."
"There were. Please now. Come out and just have a drink."
"No."
"Please now."
"What do you think I am? Here day after day. Lonely. Hoping you might come. Not a word. What do you think it's like? What do you know about how a woman feels? You don't know anything about life."
"I know about life. I'm in this too"
She turned and smoothed out a pantie. Ran the iron over the lace. Folded it and laid it on the pile of neat clothes. Sebastian sat, face adjusted for listening. With elbows resting on knees. Legs split for comfort in slight despair and chin resting in the cups of his hands.
"Couldn't you have written?"
"I meant to."
"And now you just come here to tell me you're going. Just like that. Haven't you ever suffered? Or been miserable?"
"I've made mistakes. I never know when they're going to get me. I'm not heartless. If I could catch my breath. I'd make all this up to you. I don't forget when people are good to me. But when I risk getting my arse caught on a spike, get chased and beaten up, I've got to do the best I can. Start over again in London. There's a little money I'm due for across the seas. I'm not a bad person."
"Don't be such a fool."
"Ireland's been too much for me. Badgering and insult You can come to London"
"Write me about it"
"Will you come ? Jesus, come."
"Write me. That coat looks ridiculous."
"My magic cloak. A little kiss."
Kissing in the lonely basement room. Footsteps in the hall. Holding one of her softened hands. I've made peace. Go up and out. A last look. Bye.
A blast of wind and rain beating me on the back. Across the street now to get that warm lighted bus and swing inside. I see Chris closing her door. Busman's bell and hot wet air. Wipe some of this steam off the window because out there are shop fronts of toys, sides of beef and stained secret windows of public houses.
On the quays with bag-laden figures hurrying on the candy cobble stones past the gangway lights of moored ships. Seagulls fluttering white wings in the dark. Under the light of the entrance, passengers scattering good-byes between the taxis and newsboys. I buy my last Evening Mail. I travel East. To the more established civilizations.
"Baggage, sir?"
"None."
"Anything to declare?"
"Nothing."
Between the narrow steep rails. Ship's light bleak yellow. Along this deck the windows shielding against the sea. Nearly eight. Nearly gone. Go around to the Liffey side of the ship. Down there are the waters from Blessington. Man taking the cable to the other side. I want to see some seamanship, boys. Smartly. Making too much noise with