No, I was thoroughly disillusioned in my god. I purposely re-read some of his books and, naive soul that I was, I wept again over certain passages. I was so deeply impressed that I began to wonder if I had dreamed the letter.
The repercussions from this «miscarriage» were quite extraordinary. I became savage, bitter, caustic. I became a wanderer who played on muted strings of iron. I impersonated one after another of my idol’s characters. I talked sheer rot and nonsense; I poured hot piss over everything. I became two people—myself and my impersonations, which were legion.
The divorce trial was impending. That made me even more savage and bitter, for some inexplicable reason. I hated the farce which has to be gone through in the name of justice. I loathed and despised the lawyer whom Maude had retained to protect her interests. He looked like a corn-fed Romain Holland, a chauve-souris without a crumb of humor or imagination. He seemed to be charged with moral indignation; he was a prick through and through, a coward, a sneak, a hypocrite. He gave me the creeps.
We had it out about him the day of the outing. Lying in the grass somewhere near Mineola. The child running about gathering flowers. It was warm, very warm, and there was a hot dry wind blowing which made one nervous and rooty. I had taken my prick out and put it in her hand. She examined it shyly, not wishing to be too clinical about it and yet dying to convince herself that there was nothing wrong. After a while she dropped it and rolled over on her back, her knees up, and the warm wind licking her bottom. I jockeyed her into a favorable position, made her pull her panties off. She was in one of her protesting moods again. Didn’t like being mauled like that in an open field. But there’s not a soul around, I insisted. I made her spread her legs farther apart; I ran my hand up her cunt. It was gooey.
I pulled her to me and tried to get it in. She balked. She was worried about the child. I looked around. «She’s all right,» I said, «she’s having a good time. She’s not thinking about us.»
«But supposing she conies back… and finds us…»
«She’ll think we’re sleeping. She won’t know what we’re doing….»
With this she pushed me away violently. It was outrageous. «You’d take me in front of your own child! It’s horrible.»
«It’s not horrible at all. You’re the one who’s horrible. I tell you, it’s innocent. Even if she should remember it—when she’s grown up—she’ll be a woman then and she’ll understand. There’s nothing dirty about it. It’s your dirty mind, that’s all.»
By this time she was slipping her panties on. I hadn’t bothered to shove my prick back in my trousers. It was getting limp now; it fell on the grass, dejected.
«Well, let’s have something to eat then,» I said. «If we can’t fuck we can always eat.»
«Yes, eat! You can eat any time. That’s all you care about, eating and sleeping.»
«Fucking,» I said, «not sleeping.»
«I wish you’d stop talking to me that way.» She began to undo the lunch. «You have to spoil everything. I thought we might have a peaceful day, just once. You always said you wanted to take us out on a picnic. You never did. Not once. You thought of nothing but yourself, your friends, your women. I was a fool to think you might change. You don’t care about your child—you’ve hardly noticed her. You can’t even restrain yourself in her presence. You’d take me in front of her and pretend that it was innocent. You’re vile…. I’m glad it’s all over. By this time next week I’ll be free… I’ll be rid of your forever. You’ve poisoned me. You’ve made me bitter and hateful. You make me despise myself. Since I know you I don’t recognize myself any more.
I’ve become what you wanted me to become. You never loved me… never. All you wanted was to satisfy your desires. You’ve treated me like an animal. You take what you want and you go. You go from me to the next woman—any woman—just so long as she’ll open her legs for you. You haven’t an ounce of loyalty or tenderness or consideration in you…. Here, take it!» she said, shoving a sandwich in my fist. «I hope you choke on it!»
As I brought the sandwich to my mouth I smelled the odor of her cunt on my fingers. I sniffed my fingers while looking up at her with a grin.
«You’re disgusting!» she said.
«Not so very, my lady. It smells good to me, even if you are a hateful sour-puss. I like it. It’s the only thing about you I like.»
She was furious now. She began to weep.
«Weeping because I said I liked your cunt! What a woman! Jesus, I’m the one who ought to do the despising. What sort of woman are you?»
Her tears became more copious. Just then the child came running up. What was the matter? Why was mother crying?
«It’s nothing,» said Maude, drying her tears. «I turned my ankle.» A few dry sobs belched from her despite her efforts to restrain herself. She bent over the basket and selected a sandwich for the child.
«Why don’t you do something, Henry?» said the child. She sat there looking from one to the other with a grave, puzzled look.
I got to my knees and rubbed Maude’s ankle.
«Don’t touch me!» she said harshly.
«But he wants to make it better,» said the child.
«Yes, daddy’ll make it better,» I said, rubbing the ankle gently, and then patting the calf of her leg.
«Kiss her,» said the child. «Kiss her and make the tears go away.»
I bent forward and kissed Maude on the cheek. To my astonishment she flung her arms around me and kissed me violently on the mouth. The child also put her arms around us and kissed us.
Suddenly Maude had a fresh spasm of weeping. This time it was really pitiful to behold. I felt sorry for her. I put my arms around her tenderly and comforted her.
«.God,» she sobbed, «what a farce!»
«But it isn’t,» I said. «I mean it sincerely. I’m sorry, sorry for everything.»
«Don’t cry any more,» begged the child. «I want to eat. I want Henry to take me over there,» and she pointed with her little hand to a copse of wood at the edge of the field. «I want you to come too.»
«To think this is the only time… and it had to be like this.» She was sniffling now.
«Don’t say that, Maude. The day isn’t over yet. Let’s forget about all that. Come on, let’s eat.»
Reluctantly, wearily, it seemed, she picked up a sandwich and held it to her mouth. «I can’t eat,» she murmured, dropping the sandwich.
«Come on, yes you can!» I urged, putting my arm around her again.
«You act this way now… and later you’ll do something to spoil it.»
«No I won’t… I promise you.»
«Kiss her again,» said the child.
I leaned over and kissed her softly and gently on the lips. She seemed really placated now. A soft light came into her eyes.
«Why can’t you be like this always?» she said, after a brief pause.
«I am,» I said, «when I’m given a
