Strange, I said.
Not so very. He knows that I burn myself up, that I’m going in all directions at once.
But he hardly knows you. He must be damned intuitive.
He’s in love with me, doesn’t that explain it? He doesn’t dare to say so, of course. He thinks he’s unappealing to women.
Is he really that ugly?
She smiled. You don’t believe me, do you? Well, no one would call him handsome. He looks exactly what he is—a business man. And he’s ashamed of it. He’s an unhappy person. And his sadness doesn’t add to his attractiveness.
You almost make me feel sorry for him, poor bugger.
Please don’t talk that way about him, Val. He doesn’t deserve it.
Silence for a while.
Do you remember when we were living with that doctor’s family up in the Bronx how you used to urge me to take a snooze after dinner so that I could meet you outside the dance hall at two in the morning? You thought I should be able to do that little thing for you and wake up fresh as a daisy, ready to report for work at eight A.M. Remember? And I did do it—several times—though it nearly killed me. You thought a man should be able to do a thing like that if he really loved a woman, didn’t you?
I was very young then. Besides, I never wanted you to remain at that job. Maybe I hoped to make you give it up by wearing you out.
You succeeded all right, and I can never thank you enough for it. Left to myself, I’d probably still be there, hiring and firing…
Pause.
And then, just when everything was going on roller skates things went haywire. You gave me a rough time, do you know it? Or maybe I gave you a rough time.
Let’s not go into all that, Val, please.
Okay. I don’t know why I mentioned it. Forget it.
You know, Val, it’s never going to be smooth sailing for you. If it isn’t me who makes you miserable it will be some one else. You look for trouble. Now don’t be offended. Maybe you need to suffer. Suffering will never kill you, that I can tell you. No matter what happens you’ll come through, always. You’re like a cork. Push you to the bottom and you rise again. Sometimes it frightens me, the depths to which you can sink. I’m not that way. My buoyancy is physical, yours is … I was going to say spiritual, but that isn’t quite it. It’s animalistic. You do have a strong spiritual make up, but there’s also more of the animal in you than in most men. You want to live … live at any cost … whether as a man, a beast, an insect, or a germ…
Maybe you’ve got something there, said I. By the way, I never told you, did I, about the weird experience I had one night while you were away? With a fairy. It was ludicrous, really, but at the time it didn’t seem funny to me.
She was looking at me with eyes wide open, a startled expression.
Yes, it was after you were gone a while. I so desperately wanted to join you that I didn’t care what I had to do to accomplish it. I tried getting a job on a boat, but it was no go. Then one night, at the Italian restaurant uptown … you know the one … I ran into a chap I had met there before … an interior decorator, I think he was. Anyway, a quite decent sort. While we were talking … it was about The Sun Also Rises … I got the notion to ask him for the passage money. I had a feeling he would do it if I could move him sufficiently. Talking about you and how desperate I was to join you, the tears came to my eyes. I could see him melting. Finally I pulled out my wallet and showed him your photograph, that one I’m so crazy about. He was impressed. ‘She is a beauty!’ he exclaimed. ‘Really extraordinary. What passion, what sensuality!’ ‘You see what I mean,’ I said. ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘I can see why anybody would be hungry for a woman like that.’ He laid the photo on the table, as if to study it, and ordered drinks. For some reason he suddenly switched to the Hemingway book. Said he knew Paris, had been there several times. And so on.
I paused to see how she was taking it. She looked at me with a curious smile. Go on, she said, I’m all ears.
Well, finally I let him know that I was about ready to do anything to raise the necessary passage money. He said—’Anything’? ‘Yes,’ I said, ‘anything short of murder.’ It was then I realized what I was up against. However, instead of pinning me down he diverted the conversation to other topics—bullfighting, archaeology, all irrelevant subjects. I began to despair; he was slipping out of my hands.
l listened as long as I could, then called the waiter and asked for the bill. ‘Won’t you have another drink?’ he said. I told him I was tired, wanted to get home. Suddenly he changed front. ‘About that trip to Paris,’ he said, ‘why not stop at my place a few minutes and talk it over? Maybe I can help you.’ I knew what was on his mind, of course, and my heart sank. I got cold feet. But then I thought—’What the hell.’ He can’t do anything unless I want him to. I’ll talk him out of it … the money, I mean.
I was wrong, of course. The moment he trotted out his collection of obscene photos I knew the game was up. They were something, I must say … Japanese. Anyway, as he was showing them to me he rested a hand on my knee. Now and then he’d stop and look at one intently, saying—’What do you think of that one?’ Then he’d look at me with a melting expression, try to slide his hand up my leg. Finally I brushed him off. ‘I’m going,’ I said. With this his manner changed. He looked grieved. ‘Why go all the way to Brooklyn?’ he said. ‘You can stay the night here just as well. You don’t have to sleep with me, if that’s what bothers you. There’s a cot in the other room.’ He went to the dresser and pulled out a pair of pajamas for me.
I didn’t know what to think, whether he was playing it straight or … I hesitated. ‘At the worst,’ I said to myself, ‘it will be a sleepless night.’
‘You don’t have to get to Paris to-morrow, do you?’ he said. ‘I wouldn’t lose heart so quickly, if I were you.’ A double-edged remark, which I ignored. ‘Where’s the cot?’ I said. ‘We’ll talk about that some other time.’
I turned in, keeping one eye open in case he should try his funny business. But he didn’t. Obviously he was disgusted with me—or perhaps he thought a bit of patience would turn the trick. Anyway, I didn’t sleep a wink. I tossed about till dawn, then got up, very quietly, and dressed. As I was slipping into my trousers I spied a copy of Ulysses. I grabbed it and taking a seat by the front window, I read Molly Bloom’s soliloquy. I was almost tempted to walk off with the copy. Instead, a better idea occurred to me. I tiptoed to the hallway, where the clothes closet was, opened it gently and went through his pockets, wallet and all. All I could find was about seven dollars and some change. I took it and scrammed … And you never saw him again? No, I never went back to the restaurant. Supposing, Val, that he offered you the passage money, if…
It’s hard to answer that. I’ve often thought about it since I know I could never go through with it, not even for you. It’s easier to be a woman, in such circumstances.
She began to laugh. She laughed and laughed.
What’s so funny? I said.
You! she cried. Just like a man!
How so? Would you rather I had given in?
I’m not saying, Val. All I say is that you reacted in typical male fashion.
Suddenly I thought of Stasia and her wild exhibitions. You never told me, I said, what happened to Stasia. Was it because of her that you missed the boat?
What ever put that thought in to your head? I told you how I happened to miss the boat, don’t you remember?
That’s right, you did. But I wasn’t listening very well. Anyway, it’s strange you’ve had no word from her all this time. Where do you suppose she is?
In Africa, probably.
Africa?
Yes, the last I heard from her she was in Algiers.
Hmmmnn.
Yes, Val, to get back to you I had to promise Roland, the man who took me to Vienna, that I would sail with him. I agreed on condition that he would wire Stasia the money to leave Africa. He didn’t do it. I only discovered that he hadn’t at the last moment. I didn’t have the money then to cable you about the delay. Anyway, I didn’t sail with Roland. I sent him back to Paris. I made him swear that he would find Stasia and bring her home safely. That’s the story.
He didn’t do it, of course?
No, he’s a weak, spoiled creature, concerned only with himself.. He had deserted Stasia and her Austrian friend in the desert, when the going got