Why the Tree Loves the Axe. Jim Lewis

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ worked in the mayor’s office, I said. His name was Roy Harrison.

      Charlie looked surprised, and at first I was afraid that I’d made some mistake—had I already told him?—and my hand trembled as I reached for a glass of wine. I only met him once or twice, but I heard a lot about him, he said, I don’t know how much of it is true. Anyway, I haven’t seen him in a while; I think they let him go.

      Oh, he was one of my cousins, I said, realizing just a moment too late that he hadn’t asked. I caught myself and smiled. What was he fired for?

      I don’t know. He studied my face as if he thought he were going to take me with his gaze.

      What had he done? I asked. I knew there had to be another way ’round.

      He shrugged and looked up. It could have been anything, he said to Bonnie, who was standing in front of us.

      Are you going to come sit down? said Bonnie. It’s time to eat. You two sitting over here all by yourselves, anyway, everyone’s talking about it. Come on, it’s time.

      Around the room the guests were settling. Bonnie took me by the arm, led me over to a table and sat me down; on the white tablecloth in front of me there was a white card with my name written on it. I wanted very badly to remember what was bothering me, but I kept losing track of it: there was one loud man on my left and one dull woman on my right, and I ate cellophane food and drank two glasses of wine before Bonnie noticed my sipping and kicked me under the table, and then dipped her index finger in a glass of water and waggled it at me. There was a series of toasts, cheering and laughter. Charlie had pulled up a chair just behind me and to my right, and he was reaching over my shoulder to fill a flute with champagne. Together we watched the bride and groom dance the first dance. Have you ever been married? he asked.

      I lied. No, I said. Never. Never. Bonnie was out on the floor and he had his hand on my arm, but I shook him off; I didn’t want to have to maintain such a complicated balance, I felt full of food and I didn’t like the song, which had changed to another song that I didn’t like.

      I need to go, I said. We were in a cab, Charlie and I. We were in a diner, sitting and drinking coffee. He had taken off his tie and the top button of his shirt was undone. Between us there was an old-fashioned tin bowl of sugar on the table; he opened the lid, raised up a small spoonful of the stuff, and slowly let its contents fall back. I don’t know, he was saying; all of a sudden he’d become very sincere. It was an accident. She forgot her earrings by the side of my bed, and my girlfriend found them when she came home that evening. Boom. That was that.

      I laughed. Oh you poor naïve man. Forgot? Like it was an accident? No woman ever does anything by accident, I told him. Unless she’s crazy. Never, never does anything by accident, don’t you know that yet? Didn’t anyone teach you? A girl is a deliberate thing. Some time back, I couldn’t remember when, I had decided that I liked him, and what he wanted from me. From my purse I drew my lipstick; I was going to be casual and reapply it at the table, but when I opened the thing I discovered that the tip was mashed, so I capped it again, excused myself, and took it to the bathroom. Harlot was the name of the color; I blew a kiss at the distant mirror. As I was sitting down at the table again, I saw a flash of green in the window, which I assumed was money, but a minute or so later turned out to be me.

      Now, your man Roy was with a woman for a while, said Charlie. And she was crazy.

      When was this? I asked quickly.

      Maybe about two years ago.

      I was in Dallas.

      He looked at me curiously. I was in D.C., he replied. He didn’t know anything about me; he didn’t know I stole stories about my ex-husband. He looked around for the waitress.

      Finish what you were saying, I insisted.

      That’s all there is. I think she wrecked the place they were living in. There was something else, but I can’t remember what it was … He glanced sideways as he tried to think of it; the entire recollection had suddenly become a problem, and it interested him deeply. As for me, I assumed that the answer was going to change the night into winter. A long moment passed while he tried to clear his mind for the missing memory to come home; I was right in there with him.—Anyway, he said abruptly, I can’t remember. We were still in the diner, a beautiful bright red tow truck went by outside. After she left he got strange, he continued. There was a rumor he was drinking a lot, but I don’t know if it was true.

      So what happened to him?

      He shrugged. I don’t remember. He wasn’t in my department, this is just what I heard, he said. He seemed like a nice enough guy to me. Don’t look so sad.

      Don’t tell me what to do, I said shortly, and luckily for him he laughed. Who was she?

      Who was who?

      The woman.

      I don’t know. Someone. Ask someone. I never talked to him about it. Actually, I never really talked to him at all. He was getting bored by the subject; it was life, breath and blood to me. We’re done, he said. We’re going now.

      On the street the warm wind was blowing, I had forgotten everything again, and I was in the mood to break faith. I wanted to make the night as complicated as I could. There were no stars, but streetlights: we were south of everyone else. My mouth was very dry. If I could only taste something, I thought, I would feel so, so much better. Later, Charlie held me with his hands grasping me by my hips, his long fingers almost meeting at the base of my spine. He kissed me violently; I kissed him like a butterfly banging against a window, and pressed my hips against his. He was solid all the way through; it was one of those perfect proportions of weight and mass that one wants to keep nearby, like a book, or a good dog. His tie and collar were undone, and the skin at his throat was stippled with tiny red shaving bumps. I left a little kiss there: Tell me another story. He smelled so wonderful, his warm skin, some soap and talcum powder, lust, liquor, and bed. Maybe maybe. Then we were in a taxi, legs entwined as we watched Sugartown turn by outside.

      I stood before him as he sat on the edge of the bed in his bland hotel room, so that I wanted to jump up a ways and come down in his arms. I took his feverish head against my stomach and put my mouth on the bitter-tasting crown of his hair; and as I held him he reached up my back for the zipper on my dress and slowly tugged it down. I do think that I was with him only because I wanted to watch him take the thing off of me; nevertheless, I was sorry to see it go. It hit the floor with a slow emerald splash, but I was the only thing that got wet.

      Without his suit he had no job, he was just muscle and skin and bone; I tipped him back and put my hand on the slab of his chest, he narrowed his eyes; I took his tiny nipple in my mouth, without waiting I reached down and gently weighed his balls with my fingers, and then dragged up across his bobbing erection and through his pubic hair to his belly. I bit his chest and he drew a short breath. Kiss, on the mouth, is that better? Baby? It was a trick I made up on the spot. I was having a good time.

      I was on my back on the bed, his hands were around my ankles, tugging my legs apart. He leaned slowly over me and dragged his lips down my abdomen; they passed across my skin without catching on anything, until his head sank between my thighs and settled there, face to face with my wet sex. He put his hands under my ass, I reached down and touched his head as he began to kiss me, outside and then inside; his wise mouth and my glutted lips, reflecting each other’s damp and shining purpose back and forth and back again, kissing until it was impossible to tell which was the original and which the double, while between them a tiny bright red bud grew, half mine and half his tongue; it was so young and tender that I wanted to weep; and then a fresh shoot burst from СКАЧАТЬ