Why the Tree Loves the Axe. Jim Lewis
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Название: Why the Tree Loves the Axe

Автор: Jim Lewis

Издательство: HarperCollins

Жанр: Зарубежные любовные романы

Серия:

isbn: 9780007390939

isbn:

СКАЧАТЬ made a point about skin, and the nerves beneath the skin, all the while gently stroking the inside of her wrist with the index finger of her other hand.

      I was married, I said, out of nowhere.

      Tell me, tell me.

      His name was Roy. I met him in New York, he worked for the City. So what happened … I fell in love with him, and then I married him. I took his name.—I took his name. We lasted about a year.

      How was it? she asked.

      It was perfect until it ended, I said, and then it was a perfect tragedy. Bonnie pursed her lips and lowered her eyes, and I gave her a moment … I married him, O.K., and I was faithful to him, but I couldn’t stay married. I left, and when I left I didn’t take anything, but that didn’t make it any better. Well … that was long ago and far away …

      A middle-aged man walked through the front door of the bar, looked around at the room, and found it deserted but for the two of us. We stared at him. He hesitated for a moment, and then said, Sorry, and left again.

      I changed the subject, I didn’t really want to talk about New York. I have this fear of heights, I said. I’ve had it all my life. I get it when I’m on a balcony or near a high window, or when I’m looking down a stairwell from a few stories up. But it’s not that I’m afraid I’m going to fall, or someone’s going to push me. It’s that I’m afraid I’m going to jump. I start to hear this voice in my head, and the voice is me. Go on, I say to myself. Just go on, just jump.

      Bonnie nodded. When I was younger, she said—and then she started laughing and couldn’t stop, and I laughed along with her without knowing what was funny. She began again. When I was younger, I used to fake not having orgasms.

      Not having orgasms, I said.

      Right. I would just stare at the ceiling, even when I was getting all ganged up inside, trying not to show it. It was a lot of work. But I didn’t want some guy to know he’d made me lose control, so I’d lie there going—she made a noise like a matron trying to suppress a cough. I had this one, poor little skinny boy, who thought it was his fault and went down on me for about an hour, and never even knew how many times I busted.—She exploded with laughter, so violently that she had to wipe her chin. Oh God, she said. Oh fucking God. Who told me I was nothing but a place to put things?

      I went to the jukebox again, she went behind the bar to mix us another round. When she returned, she sat the glasses down on the table and immediately lifted one of them up again. What time is it? I asked.

      She pointed to a clock behind the bar that read eleven-thirty. About eleven, she said, and sighed. I’m drunk, she went on. I’m dry and I’m drunk. She interlaced her fingers and turned her palms out so that her knuckles cracked loudly. I’m dry, and I’m drunk, she said again. So this is what I’m going to do. I’m going to start paying more attention to things. I’m not going to go around in my little daze anymore. You’re so much smarter than me, more thoughtful, right? You always try to know what’s going on. I bet you don’t get caught at things the way I do.

      I’m going to finish everything I start, I insisted. You have far more self-control than I do, I can tell, you don’t give up as easily. So I won’t write letters that I never send; I won’t put the book down on page ninety-two; I won’t leave food on my plate.

      When we had finished pledging our improvements, we shook hands across the murky table. It’s a deal, said Bonnie. Done.

      

      Early the next morning I was at Eden View; I was tired, my neck ached, my eyes itched. As I walked through the lobby I passed one of the janitors mopping down the floor, and the smell of the cleaning fluid got right to me and made me dizzy and irritated. DID YOU REMEMBER TO SMILE? said a discolored sign in the staff lounge; I couldn’t remember where I had left my work shoes. The fibers of my ugly yellow uniform were making fun of me. André came in and found me half-reclined on the couch. You look like you’ve been poisoned, he said, shaking his head with exaggerated disapproval. Come on, pretty Caroline. He handed me a Styrofoam cup: Have some coffee. If the big lady comes in, you’re going to get in trouble.

      I wasn’t scared of the administrator, but I drank the coffee and when I was done I went on my rounds. The clocks in the hallways kept stopping and starting again, and the sun shining through the windows was sharp enough to slit my throat.

      I went to the assignment board to see what test was waiting for me, and there it was: I was supposed to give Judith a bath. She was waiting in the patients’ lounge.—No, she wasn’t waiting, but she was there, sitting in her wheelchair with a single playing card clutched in her hand, while a few of the other residents played rummy with the remaining fifty-one cards at a table across the room. Do you want to take a bath? Do you want a bath? It’s time. She looked up at me expectantly as I rolled her out the door and down the hall. In the washroom that she shared with four other residents I pushed her to the edge of the tub. Upsy daisy, I said, and helped her step slowly into the water. With her nightgown removed, she was naked; her tiny back was pale and curved away from her protruding spine like the dorsum of an ancient dolphin. A bleached, dying dolphin. She leaned back, showing her flattened breasts, her belly, her loose and balding sex … to be so old, in a body that had become so exhausted and discouraged, to be so brittle and unable. If I asked her and she understood me, what would she say she had been, before she became this phenomenon? What history had brought her here? Was it something like mine? The idea made me wince, and to keep from dwelling on it I began to wash her gently. Under my hands she was even smaller than she looked, I stroked her shoulders, and she began to make an unconscious rhythmic sound, a moaning, a singing that she couldn’t hear herself; it was as if some siren living deep inside her were calling the dead to come get her. I lifted her arm to wash beneath it and her voice rose, her tune became more urgent, and all of a sudden it seemed to me that they were on their way: I could feel their footsteps on the floor outside: I could hear their heavy breathing. I didn’t want them to find me so I quickly finished cleaning her, dried her down and hastily dressed her, and then wheeled her to her room and left her alone.

      I spent the next half an hour wandering along the halls, hating myself and looking for a place to hide, but there was nowhere safe. From behind the clouded window of the Therapy Room I heard the sound of a man laughing; in the cafeteria I saw two janitors sitting together at a table, hunched over a box of glass ampules filled with amber fluid that they were carefully dividing between them. At last I came to Billy’s room, and without thinking I knocked on his door.

      Who’s that? he demanded, and I heard three or four footsteps and the sound of a drawer being shut.

      Me. Can I come in?

      No answer, but more noises. Then the door jerked open. What is it?

      … I need to strip your bedding.

      He hesitated for a moment, and then said, About fucking time, and stood aside. I crossed the room and began to pull the sheets from his mattress; the bed was cold. He stood restlessly in the corner, and when I turned back to look at him he just cocked his eyebrow and shifted his weight impatiently. At length his silence became too much for me. Billy? I said while I pulled his pillowcases from his pillows.

      He made a noise.

      Where did you come from?

      Where did I come from? he asked back, and at once his temper was in gorgeous flower. I was born about ten thousand years ago! he said.

      Shhh, I said, stepping backward.

      My father was a big black СКАЧАТЬ