ever, ever, leave you. He danced across from her. He moved a little, shifting his weight from haunch to haunch, delicately swaying his enormous feet, sawing his arms slowly in the air. he moved towards him.“Eph—ie—esss.“The Greek clubs in Toronto had played that one until even an Anglo-Saxon learned a few of the words. It was a wail of loss, of loneliness. No one could fail to respond. Whatever radio station it was saved her from distraction by switching to a more primitive record. The music was higher, more dissonant, the beat was uncertain. The bear swayed, looking to her for direc tion.She moved towards him and took his paws in her hands, and then, her fingers interlaced with his sets of knitting needles, began to sway against him to the music. She had never embraced him upright. It was hot and strange. She swayed against him. She put her head on his shoulder.He stood still, very still. He did not know what to do. She remembered herself as a halfchild in a school gym, being held to a man’sbody for the first time, flushed, confused, and guilty. He did not reciprocate her embrace. He stood very still as she moved her body as close as possible to his.Then he yawned. She felt his great jaw moving down against her face. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the gleam of his teeth, and that two ofthem were missing. She moved away from him. The music had turned into a strange rubbing pizzicato, rhythmic and systaltic.The bear went down on all fours. Men began to make strange grunting noises against the violins.The bear lay down, his ears pricked to half-animal sounds. She let him rest a moment, then lay beside him. He excited her. She took off her clothes. He began his assiduous licking. He licked her armpits and the line between her breasts that smelled ofsweat. “Byron’s bear danced,” she whispered, “but he paid no attention. If he had known you, would the Beau have finished his days among nuns, playing with his turdies?” Sometimes the bear half-ripped her skin with his efficient tongue, sometimes he became distracted. She had to cajole and persuade him. She put honey on herself and whispered to him, but once the honey was gone he wandered off, farting and too soon satisfied.
“Eat me, bear,” she pleaded, but he turned his head wearily to her and fell asleep. She had to put a shirt on and go back to work. She picked up an embossed volume entitled The Poetical Works of John Milton, Volume 1 published at Hartford in 1856.The illustrations and paper were mediocre, but the print was large. It struck her it would have been pleasant to read “Paradise Lost” in such type at school. It looked somehow forthright. Out of the volume fell another message from God or Colonel Cary:Among the Ainu of Japan, once, long ago, a bear cub was taken from its mother and raised at a woman’s breast. It became a member of the village and was honoured with love and good. At the winter solstice when it was three years old, it was taken to the centre of the village, tied to a pole, and, after many ceremonies and apologies, garroted with pointed bamboo sticks. Ceremonies were again performed, during which its surrogate mother mournedfor it, and its flesh was eaten. “Never,” she cried.She went out and swam naked in the black night river. Lay on her back and watched the aurora flickering mysterious green in the magic sky. It was a hot night, very soft on the skin. The insects seemed mostly to have gone away. She fell asleep on the grass, and dreamt that Grinty and Greedy were rolling down the hill in a butter churn towards her.“We’ll eat her,” Grinty said. “We’ll eat her breasts off.“‘You watch,“said Greedy.“You watch. She’ll eat us first. Let’s run.“She woke, stiff and cold and guilty. She fumbled upstairs and blew the lamps out.The bear was gone. It seemed to her human and sweet and considerate that he should take care of himself when it was time. When she went to bed, she found him in his right place.
“Eat me, bear,” she pleaded, but he turned his head wearily to her and fell asleep. She had to put a shirt on and go back to work. She picked up an embossed volume entitled The Poetical Works of John Milton, Volume 1 published at Hartford in 1856.The illustrations and paper were mediocre, but the print was large. It struck her it would have been pleasant to read “Paradise Lost” in such type at school. It looked somehow forthright. Out of the volume fell another message from God or Colonel Cary:Among the Ainu of Japan, once, long ago, a bear cub was taken from its mother and raised at a woman’s breast. It became a member of the village and was honoured with love and good. At the winter solstice when it was three years old, it was taken to the centre of the village, tied to a pole, and, after many ceremonies and apologies, garroted with pointed bamboo sticks. Ceremonies were again performed, during which its surrogate mother mournedfor it, and its flesh was eaten. “Never,” she cried.She went out and swam naked in the black night river. Lay on her back and watched the aurora flickering mysterious green in the magic sky. It was a hot night, very soft on the skin. The insects seemed mostly to have gone away. She fell asleep on the grass, and dreamt that Grinty and Greedy were rolling down the hill in a butter churn towards her.“We’ll eat her,” Grinty said. “We’ll eat her breasts off.“‘You watch,“said Greedy.“You watch. She’ll eat us first. Let’s run.“She woke, stiff and cold and guilty. She fumbled upstairs and blew the lamps out.The bear was gone. It seemed to her human and sweet and considerate that he should take care of himself when it was time. When she went to bed, she found him in his right place.
Similar Books
