told me her number and got on the bus. For several minutes I wandered around in a daze, repeating it, until I found a pencil in the kitchen and wrote the numbers down on the back of a Sports Illustrated subscription card, which was lying by the telephone. When I came out again Tony Carnesecca was standing in the porch light.
“What the fuck are you doing?” he said. “You were mumbling like a crazy man. Anyway, there’s something I want to tell you. Cris is pregnant.”
“That’s terrific.”
“She wanted me to explain why Michael’s been acting up. She’s weaning him. They’ve all gone to bed.”
“That’s terrific,” I said again. “I think I’m gonna go to bed, too.”
I felt a little sick, walking up the stairs, but then I saw a light under Beatrice’s door and knocked. She had the room next to mine—we shared a bathroom. When there wasn’t any answer I got undressed and went for a piss, but after brushing my teeth I couldn’t help myself, and knocked again on the bathroom door.
“What is it, Marny?” she said. “What do you want.”
“I want to come in.”
“I’m trying to go to sleep.”
“Why can’t you sleep? I don’t want to be alone.”
“Just come in for Christ’s sake and stop shouting. It isn’t locked.”
So I went in. She was lying in bed with her hair spread out against the pillow. The bedside lamp put half her face in shadow. Her skin in the light looked tired. I thought, she’s thirty-four years old.
“What do you want?” she said.
“What were you doing?”
“Nothing, staring. I forgot my book.”
“I want to sleep here.”
“What are you, twelve.”
I felt weird standing there in my pajamas while she lay flat on her back, covered in bedclothes. I said, “I don’t think you’re very happy either.”
“I don’t want to have one of your talks. I’m not in the mood. I don’t want to explain anything about myself and I don’t want to hear your explanations either.”
“Beatrice, this is what I’m like. You used to like me. You used to like me for being like this. So I like to talk. Sometimes I don’t even know if other people have intimate conversations with themselves in their own heads or if what they talk about to themselves is the same shit they talk about to me. What time their babies wake up and how much their fucking kitchen is going to cost. For example, I have no idea what you talk about to yourself. No idea. If that’s justadult life, count me out. There are things that became very clear to me tonight.”
She didn’t say anything so I went on. “I used to be in love with you. You probably know that but I thought I should tell you anyway.”
“God, Marny. Is this how you talk a woman into bed?”
Suddenly she seemed in a good mood, she looked cheered up. “Come here,” she said and I sat down next to her. “You can lie down if you want to. I’m not going to sleep with you, but you can lie down here if you want.”
So, feeling dutiful, I climbed under the sheets beside her and lay on my back. Beatrice rolled over and switched off the bedside lamp.
“Come here,” she said, rolling back, and held me. Her eyes looked right into mine, too close for me to see her properly. She kissed me on the face a little and then kissed my mouth. I kissed her back, trying not to kiss too hard.
“You’re going to be okay. We’re all going to be okay. Anyway, I’m not unhappy, just in the dumps. There’s a difference.”
“What’s the difference.”
“The dumps doesn’t matter.”
“Was it seeing his wife?”
“I’ve seen his wife before.”
“But is that what it was?”
“I don’t know,” she said, and turned over again on her back. Then she said, “I don’t mind if you stay all night, but I want to sleep.”
I don’t think she fell asleep right away, she couldn’t have, but I didn’t get another word out of her. I just lay there, not moving. I didn’t want her to kick me out. This funny phrase came into my head:
“What the fuck are you doing?” he said. “You were mumbling like a crazy man. Anyway, there’s something I want to tell you. Cris is pregnant.”
“That’s terrific.”
“She wanted me to explain why Michael’s been acting up. She’s weaning him. They’ve all gone to bed.”
“That’s terrific,” I said again. “I think I’m gonna go to bed, too.”
I felt a little sick, walking up the stairs, but then I saw a light under Beatrice’s door and knocked. She had the room next to mine—we shared a bathroom. When there wasn’t any answer I got undressed and went for a piss, but after brushing my teeth I couldn’t help myself, and knocked again on the bathroom door.
“What is it, Marny?” she said. “What do you want.”
“I want to come in.”
“I’m trying to go to sleep.”
“Why can’t you sleep? I don’t want to be alone.”
“Just come in for Christ’s sake and stop shouting. It isn’t locked.”
So I went in. She was lying in bed with her hair spread out against the pillow. The bedside lamp put half her face in shadow. Her skin in the light looked tired. I thought, she’s thirty-four years old.
“What do you want?” she said.
“What were you doing?”
“Nothing, staring. I forgot my book.”
“I want to sleep here.”
“What are you, twelve.”
I felt weird standing there in my pajamas while she lay flat on her back, covered in bedclothes. I said, “I don’t think you’re very happy either.”
“I don’t want to have one of your talks. I’m not in the mood. I don’t want to explain anything about myself and I don’t want to hear your explanations either.”
“Beatrice, this is what I’m like. You used to like me. You used to like me for being like this. So I like to talk. Sometimes I don’t even know if other people have intimate conversations with themselves in their own heads or if what they talk about to themselves is the same shit they talk about to me. What time their babies wake up and how much their fucking kitchen is going to cost. For example, I have no idea what you talk about to yourself. No idea. If that’s justadult life, count me out. There are things that became very clear to me tonight.”
She didn’t say anything so I went on. “I used to be in love with you. You probably know that but I thought I should tell you anyway.”
“God, Marny. Is this how you talk a woman into bed?”
Suddenly she seemed in a good mood, she looked cheered up. “Come here,” she said and I sat down next to her. “You can lie down if you want to. I’m not going to sleep with you, but you can lie down here if you want.”
So, feeling dutiful, I climbed under the sheets beside her and lay on my back. Beatrice rolled over and switched off the bedside lamp.
“Come here,” she said, rolling back, and held me. Her eyes looked right into mine, too close for me to see her properly. She kissed me on the face a little and then kissed my mouth. I kissed her back, trying not to kiss too hard.
“You’re going to be okay. We’re all going to be okay. Anyway, I’m not unhappy, just in the dumps. There’s a difference.”
“What’s the difference.”
“The dumps doesn’t matter.”
“Was it seeing his wife?”
“I’ve seen his wife before.”
“But is that what it was?”
“I don’t know,” she said, and turned over again on her back. Then she said, “I don’t mind if you stay all night, but I want to sleep.”
I don’t think she fell asleep right away, she couldn’t have, but I didn’t get another word out of her. I just lay there, not moving. I didn’t want her to kick me out. This funny phrase came into my head:
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