We, the Drowned - Carsten Jensen [244]
She looked into his eyes. For a moment he thought about freeing himself, but then he realized that it would be childish to resist. He had to take it like the man he'd turned into these past few months. He stared back, and something strange happened to him. A shiver went through him, not of fear, but of something else, something unfamiliar. A quiet trembling ran through his body in expectation of something big and joyful. He closed his eyes to receive the kiss and be transported to some place where he instinctively knew no ship could bring him.
He felt her lips against his, their soft fullness pressing against his, with a slightly sticky sensation that made him wish that they need never let go of each other again. His hands, which had been lying on the chair's armrests, slipped up her back, and as they did he felt a crackle of electricity. Then he got hold of her exposed neck beneath the short hair and gently caressed its soft curve. He opened his mouth slightly. He wished she would do the same so their breath could meet, and he could inhale her air into his lungs and breathe through the element that was her. It was like drowning while still being able to breathe. Now he opened himself to another element and let it fill him. He sensed how she followed him and let her lips part slightly. They breathed through each other's mouths and drew air from each other's lungs. Kissing Miss Sophie, he kissed the world. It kissed him back and he was filled with its sweet breath.
Then she pulled back from him, placed one hand on her chest, and laughed. "You really know how to kiss." She handed him a napkin from the table. "Here, you'd better wipe off the lipstick."
He held up his hand to stop her as if she was about to take something valuable from him. "No, come here."
She laughed again. She took hold of his shoulder and wiped his mouth with the napkin. "We can't have you leaving Mr. Smith's house with lipstick all over your face." She gave him a critical look. "Has anyone ever told you how handsome you are?" Her voice was teasing. She got up and took his hand. Then she led him to the door to the hall. "We'll say goodbye here."
"Will we see each other again?" he asked, and realized instantly how this question had exposed him.
She held out her hand and winked at him. "Have a good trip to Cape Horn."
She didn't appear the next day. Late in the afternoon he kept going to the rail to scout across the sea. Ever since he left Mr. Smith's house he'd been agitated. He didn't think that he could be in love. This was different, more like when the Kristina heeled unexpectedly and you had to grab hold of the nearest fixed point on the swaying deck.
He thought of her with irritation—no, with more than that: with anger and a fierce desire for vengeance. She'd humiliated him, wiping his mouth with a napkin as if he were a child. He barely dared recall their kiss. Words couldn't contain all the contradictory feelings the memory stirred in him. He'd felt both tiny and huge, as if endlessly transforming. The kiss had sown a longing, and the longing hurt; it bruised his self-esteem.
The others noticed his restless pacing by the rail. "Looking for something in particular?" Dreymann asked. The other seamen laughed, even Helmer, the little shit. They'd been bursting with questions when he returned from the villa, but he'd been dismissive and kept his answers to the minimum.
"What was she like?" Rikard asked, wriggling the naked mermaid on his arm.
"She was nice enough" was all he said. "We drank tea and ate cookies."
"Didn't you do anything else?" The crew studied his face.
"Look at those pretty brown eyes." Rikard sneered at him. "Do you know why your eyes are brown?"
Knud Erik shook his head defenselessly, sensing something crude coming.
"It's because you were kicked so hard up the behind when you were a kid that the shit went the wrong way."
They were making a fool of him, and it was her fault.
And then she didn't even show up!