You Deserve Nothing - Alexander Maksik [36]
The way he touched me, I mean everything he did was strong you know? He seemed so certain of himself. Or maybe it was just that he was practiced. I don’t know. It felt good. I was afraid for a lot of it. Afraid of him. I felt out of control. I mean I would have let him do anything he wanted to me. Anything. He was so slow the way he put it inside me like that, just a millimeter at a time, that I felt like I was losing myself. I didn’t even think about the condom. It didn’t even occur to me. He was the one who said it. I’m going to put a condom on, Marie. But at that moment? I didn’t care. Do what you want, I thought. Do whatever you want.
I had this sensation of falling, or maybe flying, of being in motion, of being in motion and somewhere else, away. And then all I wanted was for him to come, as if his coming would confirm something. When he did, when I felt him give in, he lay down next to me, and he was sweet. He kissed me and took me into his arms and we lay there together for a long time listening to the night outside with him stroking my back, my head on his chest.
I had to leave. I’d have never asked to sleep there, though that’s what I wanted more than anything. I wanted to stay there and never leave the way you want things like that. But I got up and dressed and left him there. I left without having any idea where I was going. I didn’t even think about it until I got into a cab and realized I’d have to go back to Ariel’s. There was nowhere else to go.
She was asleep when I got there. I took off my clothes and got into bed with her and lay on my back looking at the ceiling feeling happy, so happy that I laughed out loud. I mean just a little laugh but it woke Ariel up.
I’m sorry, she said. I told her it was O.K. and she asked me where I’d been. I rolled over onto my side and looked at her. I mean I looked at her right in the face, right in the eyes, and told her everything.
GILAD
He was standing there with that leather bag slung over his shoulder. I’d see him walking into school returning a book or a magazine to its place, watch him buckling the straps. He didn’t miss a thing that guy, paid attention to every detail, always played the part. I never saw him with anything ugly. He never would have shown up at school with a nylon backpack or an old computer case the way other teachers did.
That morning I saw the bag and I knew it was him. I was trying to figure out what I might say if I walked over. It’s a long train ride and I couldn’t imagine sitting with him all that time.
I didn’t have the courage. When the train came ripping up the tracks I was disappointed. I was facing the train as it came and I saw the guy who’d been wandering around talking to himself charge toward Silver. I said, “No.” I said it aloud, my eyes wide, everything slowing down. I saw the man bend where he was hit, square in the lower back so that his body looked like a loaded bow. He was so unprepared for it. His arms flew upwards, his head snapped back and then he went forward. There was a heavy thump and very fast he disappeared beneath the train.
I was sure it had been Silver. When I saw him still standing there I felt, at first, a brief surge of joy—because it hadn’t been him, yes, but mostly because this thing that had happened would mean we now had to talk. It would be something between us, something shared.
He took me to a café across from the Luxembourg Gardens. Au Petit Suisse. We sat together at a table and drank coffee. I pretended to be more moved by what’d happened than I was. It was thrilling to be there with him, just two friends having coffee. I couldn’t think about the man who’d died without being grateful for being there. I knew that I should have felt something. Sadness or shock. I played at it a little and the act made me feel comfortable in