Warm and Willing - Lawrence Block [9]
And yet she was not sexless. Sometimes she would be sitting home during the afternoon, sitting alone with a book, sitting listening to music, sitting perched in front of the television set while the monotony of a game show or soap opera went on in front of her. And a wave of desire would pass through her body, a rush of warmth that could only be the beginnings of lust.
This never lasted, nor was it ever directed toward her husband. It lacked direction, this flow of passion—it was anonymous, aimed at nothing and no one, quickly over and done with. She could never feel desire for Tom or for any other man, but these occasional spasms of desire made her aware that she was a sexual being, somehow.
“We never had much of a chance,” she told Megan. “Tom was a normal man. Maybe some men can live with a cold wife without caring. He wasn’t that kind of man. We bad fights, pretty horrible fights. He wanted me to go to a psychiatrist. I—I wanted to, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it.”
Megan squeezed her hand.
“I knew he was seeing other women. There was no reason why he shouldn’t. I was almost glad, after awhile, because that meant he wouldn’t bother me that way. We settled into this flat dead life. Sometimes he came home for dinner and stayed home, and we would watch television together or go to a movie. Sometimes he stayed downtown and didn’t get home until three or four in the morning. He would come home smelling of some other woman.”
“Heavens.”
“It might even have lasted. He never asked for a divorce, I think he hoped I would turn into a woman again.”
“You are a woman.”
“You know what I mean. He could still make love to me. I never refused him. That was one thing, at least. I never refused him. I thought something might happen, that it might change and it would be good for me. I couldn’t quite believe it, but I hoped so. Once I thought I was pregnant.”
“What happened?”
“I wasn’t, that’s all. I was terrified, because I knew that if I had a baby I was stuck, that the marriage would stay that way.”
She crossed the living room, walked over to the window. The blinds were drawn. She opened them part way and looked out at a battery of lights across a courtyard. Megan was at her side but she did not turn to look at the blonde girl.
“I’m running off at the mouth,” she said, “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.”
“Is it the wine? Why am I telling you so much?”
“Because you’ve got to get it out of your system.”
“You’re easy to talk to. You’re good to listen. Tom didn’t fight the annulment. He didn’t argue at all. It was something he would never have suggested, I don’t think. If he could stand living with me for two years like that, I guess he could have stood it forever.”
“Rhoda—”
“But he went along with it once I let him know it was what I wanted. He said he hoped I would be happy. He said I would probably like it better living alone, because then I could crawl into my shell and hibernate my way through life. He apologized for saying that. He was wrong anyway, because I don’t want to sleep my life away. I hate being lonely and I’m alone all the time and I dream bad dreams. The same dream, night after night. Running and being chased, that kind of dream.”
She turned from the window. Megan was looking at her, infinite pity in her eyes.
“What’s wrong with me?”
“Don’t you know?”
“I know.” A sigh. “I’m frigid.”
“No.”
“Of course I am. An iceberg. A female zombie.”
“No.”
“Then what?”
Megan looked at her. “You really don’t know, do you? You really don’t know what you are.”
“I don’t understand.”
“No, you don’t. You poor kid, you poor sweet kid, you don’t understand, do you?”
And Megan kissed her.
CHAPTER THREE
Megan’s hands upon her shoulders, Megan’s lips against her own. She stood, stunned, and was kissed. And Megan ended the kiss and took a short step backward. Rhoda stared at her wide-eyed. She did not know what was happening.
“Do you see?”
“See what?”
“Oh God,” Megan said. “God