The Ginger Man - J. P. Donleavy [33]
"Yes."
"Do you know what Fm talking about?"
"I think so."
The West's taken the rain out of the sky. They walked slowly. His feet in nervous restraint. Her soft voice speaking, pushing at the night.
"What about your wife?"
"Marion?"
"Yes."
"What about her?"
"Well, she's your wife. And you have a child."
"That's so."
"You're not helping me, you know."
"I can't, I don't know myself."
"Do you care for them, for Marion?"
"I'm fond of Marion, at times extremely fond of both her and the child, but I've made them both unhappy."
"What about us?"
"Us?"
"Yes."
"I think we're good for one another."
"Do you?"
"Yes."
"For how long are we good for one another?"
"That's impossible to tell I feel very strongly about you."
She stopped and turned to him.
"I like you. It's so much harder for a woman if love means anything and it does to all women and I want it to mean something to me."
"I like you too, very much."
"Let's go back to the room."
Gentle tugging of her hand.
They returned through three narrow streets. Feet hesitant on the steps. Lock turning. Into the little room and its new bright light. Chris pulled the curtains closed. Sebastian pouring gin, his back to the fire place. She stood on the green carpet, unbuttoning her jacket. Watching her, the long dark-haired girl. Drinking my gin with a shaking hand. She stood silently in the center of the room, facing him. He sat down. Crossing her narrow wrists upon the hem of her sweater she drew the wool garment over her head and pulled it from her arms. Folding it gently on the bed. Hands reversed behind her back, her hair, her hint. I know how you are underneath. Walking over to his chair, stooped over his head. You've pushed your breast against my face. And the solid tip on my mouth and between my teeth. Up in your eyes you're crying and tears collecting on your chin. She pushes his head back over the chair and touches his eyes with her fingers. Softly telling him.
"I'll light two candles. And they're Italian and scented. I knew this was going to happen. Till tonight I was going to the zoo. Thinking about it all week and you. Can I watch you?"
"Yes."
Warmed in candle light. Her dark eyes big.
"Now turn around. I thought you were thinner. A businessman's paunch. You don't exercise."
"My hands refuse to labor"
"Help me put the mattress on the floor. On the papers. You look so funny. Both of us. How strange a man is. I feel absent and naked there"
"Sweet suffering Christ"
"What's happened?''
"I've stubbed my toe. Cut it"
"I'll fix it. We'll bathe it."
Water running in the pan, swilling on the sides and she puts his feet in.
"Better?"
"Much."
"Now we'll dry them and put some talc on. Nice? It's so funny and curious, men and women and everything, it must have something to do with the meaning of positive and negative. Aren't the veins blue. I read somewhere that it's the smoothest part of the body, there's no part of a woman so smooth"
Her fingers rubbing up through the hair of his leg. Dumping the pan. Waiting secret and shy, loosening her skirt.
"My nylons now. I'm embarrassed now. Horrid garter belts."
She held each breast in each hand, squeezing the blood, veins full, and the dark lip flesh a long cylinder and eyes syrup of cool white and warm gray. Moving against him. Telling him it was her expression and tears of soundless happiness and I want to dance for you. She stood and pressed her breasts together and then her hands above her head and swung her chest and flesh. And touch his skin again with her. Slide her body into his and said she was ready and she somehow knew, I'll tell you, that each day she stood waiting for the tram so cold, intolerable, alone, hungry for love for weeks, damp body and Sebastian and tonight all the laundry steam has come out of my heart, I'm ready and juices in my groin. Dear Chris you're full of soft love spilling on your dark lips. Outside and down that road by St. Patrick's Cathedral I hear the Gregorian chant. It's not far away. She fur- rowed her tongue and blew a warm moist air into his ear.