that things are as easy as they appear. For all you know,” she said, “it’s my way of seizing control of the situation. For all you know, I may just be trying to intimidate you. Are you intimidated?”
“Not in the least.”
“For all you know,” she went on, “it might be much easier for me to take off my clothes in front of a strange guy than to sleep with him. You shouldn’t assume, just because many men might have seen me naked, that many men have had sex with me.”
I took a drink from the bottle and offered it to her. “I didn’t necessarily assume many men had seen you naked.”
“Don’t you have any glasses?” she said, looking at the bottle disdainfully, and I got up from the bed and got her a glass from the bathroom and poured her some wine. “Don’t assume,” she said, sipping the wine, “I’ve had sex with more men than I can count.”
“I don’t assume that.”
“I can count them. I don’t need all my fingers either.” She wiggled the fingers of her free hand at me. “I may not be able to name them, but I can count them.”
“Is this the part of the past we aren’t supposed to talk about?”
“Yes,” she admitted. She tapped the Herald Tribune in front of her. “So how do you think this guy paired them up?”
“What?”
“This Korean guy, Reverend Whatsis. Who married these four thousand people in New York. He chose all their partners for them, it says. How did he do that? Did he choose them by age, did he choose them by height? Did he choose alphabetically? Did he have a file on them, did he match up their interests, hobbies, college degrees? That doesn’t seem possible, does it, that he would have a file on all these people?” Unconsciously she began to bite her fingernail on one of the fingers that she didn’t need to count all the men she’d had sex with, then she caught herself and closed her hand in a fist, burying it beneath her breasts. Outside, the noise of the street was starting to die and the summer light that doesn’t die in Paris till after ten o’clock was finally dying too. “So on the one hand you figure he doesn’t care if any of these marriages are successful, or happy, or if any of these people belong together—all he cares is that he can snap his fingers and everyone just does what he wants, right? Everyone just surrenders to him the single most important decision of their lives. That’s the point.”
“Yes.”
“That’s all he cares about.”
“A demonstration to the world of his control over chaos.”
“You think?” she said, frowning. “Except,” and now she rolled over onto her back staring at the ceiling, raising the finger she had been biting and blithely showing me the rest of her, “if all these marriages fall apart later, then the point he’s making sort of falls apart too. You know?” She twisted her head around now, looking at me half sideways, half upside down. “Bad public relations really, to perform whatever it is, two thousand marriages as the world watches, and then, you know, nineteen hundred of them don’t last. Not a very convincing demonstration of control.”
I was still distracted.
“You’re distracted,” she said.
“I’m listening.”
“But you’re distracted.”
“Not at all.”
“Not at all,” she scoffed.
“I don’t think there was any grand scheme,” I said, “that was the real point. That’s the real power. That he can be so completely arbitrary. It makes him that much more powerful to be able to marry anyone to anyone without any rational reason. People’s lives completely changed through a whim. You see?”
“I’ll bet he just threw a bunch of names in a hat and picked. They’re probably lucky he even matched guys to girls.” She thought about it. “In its own way, it’s completely evil.”
“Is it?”
“Yes,” she assured me, “it is. I know. I’ve seen evil,” she said quietly, “not evil in the abstract, but in the concretely tangible. I know what evil
“Not in the least.”
“For all you know,” she went on, “it might be much easier for me to take off my clothes in front of a strange guy than to sleep with him. You shouldn’t assume, just because many men might have seen me naked, that many men have had sex with me.”
I took a drink from the bottle and offered it to her. “I didn’t necessarily assume many men had seen you naked.”
“Don’t you have any glasses?” she said, looking at the bottle disdainfully, and I got up from the bed and got her a glass from the bathroom and poured her some wine. “Don’t assume,” she said, sipping the wine, “I’ve had sex with more men than I can count.”
“I don’t assume that.”
“I can count them. I don’t need all my fingers either.” She wiggled the fingers of her free hand at me. “I may not be able to name them, but I can count them.”
“Is this the part of the past we aren’t supposed to talk about?”
“Yes,” she admitted. She tapped the Herald Tribune in front of her. “So how do you think this guy paired them up?”
“What?”
“This Korean guy, Reverend Whatsis. Who married these four thousand people in New York. He chose all their partners for them, it says. How did he do that? Did he choose them by age, did he choose them by height? Did he choose alphabetically? Did he have a file on them, did he match up their interests, hobbies, college degrees? That doesn’t seem possible, does it, that he would have a file on all these people?” Unconsciously she began to bite her fingernail on one of the fingers that she didn’t need to count all the men she’d had sex with, then she caught herself and closed her hand in a fist, burying it beneath her breasts. Outside, the noise of the street was starting to die and the summer light that doesn’t die in Paris till after ten o’clock was finally dying too. “So on the one hand you figure he doesn’t care if any of these marriages are successful, or happy, or if any of these people belong together—all he cares is that he can snap his fingers and everyone just does what he wants, right? Everyone just surrenders to him the single most important decision of their lives. That’s the point.”
“Yes.”
“That’s all he cares about.”
“A demonstration to the world of his control over chaos.”
“You think?” she said, frowning. “Except,” and now she rolled over onto her back staring at the ceiling, raising the finger she had been biting and blithely showing me the rest of her, “if all these marriages fall apart later, then the point he’s making sort of falls apart too. You know?” She twisted her head around now, looking at me half sideways, half upside down. “Bad public relations really, to perform whatever it is, two thousand marriages as the world watches, and then, you know, nineteen hundred of them don’t last. Not a very convincing demonstration of control.”
I was still distracted.
“You’re distracted,” she said.
“I’m listening.”
“But you’re distracted.”
“Not at all.”
“Not at all,” she scoffed.
“I don’t think there was any grand scheme,” I said, “that was the real point. That’s the real power. That he can be so completely arbitrary. It makes him that much more powerful to be able to marry anyone to anyone without any rational reason. People’s lives completely changed through a whim. You see?”
“I’ll bet he just threw a bunch of names in a hat and picked. They’re probably lucky he even matched guys to girls.” She thought about it. “In its own way, it’s completely evil.”
“Is it?”
“Yes,” she assured me, “it is. I know. I’ve seen evil,” she said quietly, “not evil in the abstract, but in the concretely tangible. I know what evil
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