The Marriage Plot - Jeffrey Eugenides [154]
“I’m sorry I won’t be able to meet him,” Leonard said, pressing against the counter. “I could tell him to stop ruining your weekends. Before I go, though, I think I’ll buy some taffy.”
Again he perused the racks. When he bent forward, his hat fell off and he caught it. Perfect reflexes. Like Fred Astaire. He could flip it in the air, end over end, right onto his head if he wanted to.
“Saltwater taffy is always pastel,” he commented. “Why is that?”
This time Heidi didn’t respond at all.
“You know what I think it is, Heidi? I think pastels are the palette of the seashore. I’ll take these pastel green ones, which are the color of dune grass, and I’ll take some pink ones, which are like the sun setting on the water. And I’ll take these white ones, which are like sea foam, and these yellow ones, which are like the sun on the sand.”
He brought all four bags to the counter, then decided to take a few other flavors. Buttercream. Chocolate. Strawberry. Seven bags in all.
“You want all these?” Heidi said, incredulous.
“Why not?”
“I don’t know. It’s just a lot.”
“I like a lot a lot,” Leonard said.
She rang up his purchase. Leonard reached into his pocket and took out his cash.
“Keep the change,” Leonard said. “But I need a bag to carry all this in.”
“I don’t have a bag big enough for all this. Unless you want a trash bag.”
“A trash bag is perfect,” Leonard said.
Heidi disappeared into the back of the shop. She came out with a dark green twenty-five-gallon heavy-duty trash bag and began putting the bags of taffy in it. She had to bend forward to do so.
Leonard stared at her little tits in the tight sweater. He knew exactly what to do. He waited until she lifted the trash bag over the counter. Then, taking it from her, he said, “You know what? Since your dad’s not here?” And holding her wrists, he leaned forward and kissed her. Not long. Not deeply. Just a peck on her lips, surprising her totally. Her eyes grew wide.
“Merry Christmas, Heidi,” he said, “Merry Christmas,” and he whirled out the door into the street.
He was grinning madly now. Slinging the trash bag over his back like a sailor, he strode down the street. His erection hadn’t subsided. He was trying to remember what his dose had been that morning and wondering if he might need a touch more.
The logic of his brilliant move rested on one premise: that manic depression, far from being a liability, was an advantage. It was a selected trait. If it wasn’t selected for, then the “disorder” would have disappeared long ago, bred out of the population like anything else that didn’t increase the odds of survival. The advantage was obvious. The advantage was the energy, the creativity, the feeling of genius, almost, that Leonard felt right now. There was no telling how many great historical figures had been manic-depressives, how many scientific and artistic breakthroughs had occurred to people during manic episodes.
He picked up speed, hurrying home. Came out of the town and passed the lake again, the dunes.
Madeleine was on the couch, her beautiful face stuck into the GRE booklet, when he came in.
Leonard tossed the trash bag on the floor. Without a word he lifted Madeleine off the couch and carried her into the bedroom, laying her on the bed.
He undid his belt and took off his pants and stood before her, grinning.
Without the usual preliminaries, he pulled off Madeleine’s tights and underwear and plunged into her as far as he could go. His cock felt wondrously hard. He was giving Madeleine what Phyllida could never give her, and thereby exercising his advantage. He felt the most exquisite sensations at the end of his dick. Nearly weeping with the pleasure of it, he cried out, “I love you, I love you,” and he meant what he said.
Afterward, they lay curled up, catching their breath.
Madeleine said slyly, happily, “I guess you are better.”
At which Leonard sat up. His head wasn’t crowded with thoughts. There was only one. Rolling off the bed onto his knees, Leonard took Madeleine’s hands in his much bigger hands. He’d just figured out the solution