suppressed my dismay and said calmly, “I’m glad you called Luke.”
“Lou, it’s not his.” She looked as if something amusing had crossed her mind. “That’s the joke of it.”
I looked hard at her, puzzled.
“You have your fisherman,” she said, “I have mine. Though yours seems a whole lot nicer. A whole lot.”
She had to remind me about the Labrador fisherman, Spider, the man Kurt had hired to pick up her mail. After the first letter from up there, Glas_9780375422751_3p_all_r1.qxp 7/2/08 10:21 AM Page 68 68
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she’d never mentioned him again. “You don’t mean, all that time . . .”
I thought of how touched I always felt by her letters—how I believed they carried the intimate weight of a journal. I’d seen myself as her confidante.
Clem finally looked at me. “Oh, I read your mind. Like: what a slut. Oh poor Luke. And I bet you thought, I bet you thought I’d try to seduce this Sam guy. It’s been going through your head all evening, what a riot.”
She laughed. “Well, yeah, he’s kind of cute, like I said.” Her voice dwindled. “He really is.”
Suddenly, as if having made a decision, she lifted her short dress up to her breasts. She was facing the light, so I saw them distinctly: three bruises hugging her rib cage. She pulled the dress down. “And how about this.” She turned her head and held her hair away from one ear. The skin behind it was purple. “Hey, no black eyes!”
“Jesus, Clem. None of this is funny.”
She pulled herself up on the table again. “It turns out Spider’s very Catholic. I mean, here I go again, right? I can’t stay away from these altar boys, can I? So when I tell him, I get a stoic proposal of marriage. I make the mistake of laughing. I’m nervous, that’s all. Big mistake. But I mean, for a minute there I think about it. I really consider it. Me, him, the baby. Can’t you see me? Knitting by the sea? Vacations hunting caribou? Wow. The honeymoon at Niagara Falls.”
“You’re not actually planning to tell Luke,” I said. “That’s suicide.”
“Oh Luke. Right. The gem I’m going to lose while I hang around waiting for something finer. He tells me he’s patient. He knows inside I really do want him, that’s what he says. He’s dead wrong. I’m just selfish. I’m just cruel.” She started stroking her leg again.
“Stop that,” I said gently. “You’re giving me goosebumps.”
She looked down. “A new and hideous habit. Sort of reassuring. Like something outside of me that’s entered and become a part of me. Like Alien. Someday it’ll burst out, have a whole life of its own.” She pulled back her hem. “Touch it. Go ahead. It’s not radioactive.”
I touched her leg, lightly. For the first time, I really looked at the scar. Glas_9780375422751_3p_all_r1.qxp 7/2/08 10:21 AM Page 69 I See You Everywhere
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It ran fearlessly down her thigh, an eroded ravine. Feeling it, I was amazed at how much flesh seemed to be missing, the place she’d lost the dead tissue. But I saw what she meant, about the comfort. It felt solid, like a steel cable running clear through her body, breaking the surface only here. “Some parts”—she poked at the scar—“I can’t feel a thing. Is it weird to like that, having places in your body with no sensation?”
“What’re you guys makin’ out here, crêpes suzette?” Sam stood in the doorway, Luke behind him. Two boys grinning. “In the dark no less.”
“I had a tour of the garden,” said Clem without missing a beat. “The moon is huge.”
Luke watched her. How well he must know all her excuses, her foils.
“You gotta see it,” she told him. “I’ll show you.”
Sam and I ate our dessert in the living room, on the sofa. He put on Bruce Springsteen and talked about how he had just missed going to Vietnam. He talked about antinuclear art: most of it politics, he said, not art at all. Art must absolutely never become confused with politics, he said.
“Lou, it’s not his.” She looked as if something amusing had crossed her mind. “That’s the joke of it.”
I looked hard at her, puzzled.
“You have your fisherman,” she said, “I have mine. Though yours seems a whole lot nicer. A whole lot.”
She had to remind me about the Labrador fisherman, Spider, the man Kurt had hired to pick up her mail. After the first letter from up there, Glas_9780375422751_3p_all_r1.qxp 7/2/08 10:21 AM Page 68 68
Julia Glass
she’d never mentioned him again. “You don’t mean, all that time . . .”
I thought of how touched I always felt by her letters—how I believed they carried the intimate weight of a journal. I’d seen myself as her confidante.
Clem finally looked at me. “Oh, I read your mind. Like: what a slut. Oh poor Luke. And I bet you thought, I bet you thought I’d try to seduce this Sam guy. It’s been going through your head all evening, what a riot.”
She laughed. “Well, yeah, he’s kind of cute, like I said.” Her voice dwindled. “He really is.”
Suddenly, as if having made a decision, she lifted her short dress up to her breasts. She was facing the light, so I saw them distinctly: three bruises hugging her rib cage. She pulled the dress down. “And how about this.” She turned her head and held her hair away from one ear. The skin behind it was purple. “Hey, no black eyes!”
“Jesus, Clem. None of this is funny.”
She pulled herself up on the table again. “It turns out Spider’s very Catholic. I mean, here I go again, right? I can’t stay away from these altar boys, can I? So when I tell him, I get a stoic proposal of marriage. I make the mistake of laughing. I’m nervous, that’s all. Big mistake. But I mean, for a minute there I think about it. I really consider it. Me, him, the baby. Can’t you see me? Knitting by the sea? Vacations hunting caribou? Wow. The honeymoon at Niagara Falls.”
“You’re not actually planning to tell Luke,” I said. “That’s suicide.”
“Oh Luke. Right. The gem I’m going to lose while I hang around waiting for something finer. He tells me he’s patient. He knows inside I really do want him, that’s what he says. He’s dead wrong. I’m just selfish. I’m just cruel.” She started stroking her leg again.
“Stop that,” I said gently. “You’re giving me goosebumps.”
She looked down. “A new and hideous habit. Sort of reassuring. Like something outside of me that’s entered and become a part of me. Like Alien. Someday it’ll burst out, have a whole life of its own.” She pulled back her hem. “Touch it. Go ahead. It’s not radioactive.”
I touched her leg, lightly. For the first time, I really looked at the scar. Glas_9780375422751_3p_all_r1.qxp 7/2/08 10:21 AM Page 69 I See You Everywhere
69
It ran fearlessly down her thigh, an eroded ravine. Feeling it, I was amazed at how much flesh seemed to be missing, the place she’d lost the dead tissue. But I saw what she meant, about the comfort. It felt solid, like a steel cable running clear through her body, breaking the surface only here. “Some parts”—she poked at the scar—“I can’t feel a thing. Is it weird to like that, having places in your body with no sensation?”
“What’re you guys makin’ out here, crêpes suzette?” Sam stood in the doorway, Luke behind him. Two boys grinning. “In the dark no less.”
“I had a tour of the garden,” said Clem without missing a beat. “The moon is huge.”
Luke watched her. How well he must know all her excuses, her foils.
“You gotta see it,” she told him. “I’ll show you.”
Sam and I ate our dessert in the living room, on the sofa. He put on Bruce Springsteen and talked about how he had just missed going to Vietnam. He talked about antinuclear art: most of it politics, he said, not art at all. Art must absolutely never become confused with politics, he said.
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