Chapter 8
"I'LL SEE YOU," SAID MARYANNE. "Soon."
"Yes," Sebastian said. He smiled at her, from the door. She was still on the couch. The candles were lit again.
She really does have golden skin, he thought.
Sebastian went out, shutting the door behind him. In the hall, he took a deep breath, and smiled. Quite a girl, Maryanne. I really must love Chris to leave, he thought. It was a strange sensation for Wolff, and he enjoyed it. As long as it didn't get out of hand.
Wolff crossed the corridor, and entered apartment eight. The front room was empty, except for Bob Kelly. Kelly sat looking out the front window, a pint of whiskey in one hand. He turned at the sound of the door being shut.
"Hello," Sebastian said. "Party over?"
"For you, it is," Kelly said.
"Huh?" You mad about the chick?" Wolff asked.
Kelly turned back to the window. He tipped the bottle up and took a long drink.
Sebastian said, "Hell, man. Nobody would have copped if the chick stayed with the whole crowd. She's free now, and ready for more. Go on over."
"Shut the hell up!" Kelly shouted.
Wolff squinted. His jaws tightened. He was certainly not in the mood for a fight, but he didn't like to be talked to that way. He said, "Take it easy, Bob, okay?"
Kelly took another drink.
Wolff watched him for a minute. Then he asked, "Where did Christine go?"
Kelly looked at him. A strange look. "She's here," he said.
"Where?"
Kelly nodded at the bedroom. Wolff raised his eyebrows in a questioning glance. "Alone?" he asked.
"No," Kelly said, putting down another swallow.
"Who was it?"
Kelly didn't answer.
"Look," Sebastian said. "I'm not Victorian. So somebody scored. So what? It's not taking anything from me."
"Well, aren't you the libertine, though," said Kelly. "Was it you?" Wolff asked. "Me? Yes, it was me."
"Okay. I'm not mad," Sebastian said. "Surprised, yes. I thought that she was the faithful kind."
"like you? You really hurt her," Kelly said.
"I did no more than she did, it seems," Wolff said.
"Much more," Kelly said. He finished the bottle, looked at it, and threw it across the room. It shattered against the wall.
Wolff said, "What in hell's the matter?"
Kelly said, "It's not you, why kid myself? It's me, I did it. It's myself that I hate right now."
"Because you copped another man's woman? Don't be a fool, Bob." Wolff told him.
"Because everybody copped her, you goddamn fool!" Kelly said.
Sebastian blinked. He didn't believe it. Not with Christine. Another girl maybe, but not her. He felt a strange sensation in his stomach, a feeling which he didn't like at all.
"I did. Gus did. And Pete and Bill. One at a time and all at once. On my bed. And I led her into it, and I held her hand while they did, and told her it was all right. And you know why she did it? Huh? Do you know why, Wolff?"
Sebastian shrugged. He didn't want to look at Kelly.
"Because she loved you," Kelly said.
"Sure," said Wolff.
Kelly came across the room. He was walking unsteadily. He said, "She did it in despair, Wolff. Because I told her that you had left with Maryanne. Because she didn't care what happened after you were gone. She didn't care, she only wanted you."
Wolff wrinkled his face in a grimace. "Sounds pretty, Kelly," he said. "But maybe I'm not as open-minded as I thought."
"Go see her," Kelly said. "She's alone."
"Waiting for the next man, huh? I don't want to be last."
"I mean see her. Go talk to her."
Wolff crossed the room, walking on his heels. He went in the bedroom and over to the bed. The room was damp, it smelled of love. Christine had pulled the sheet over her. She was still undressed, still lying on her back. She had not moved. She turned her head to him.
"Sebastian," she said.
He didn't answer. Sebastian Wolff felt his guts tie themselves in knots.
Her lips formed his name again, soundlessly.
Wolff turned and walked out. Kelly gave him a questioning look.
Wolff said, "The hell with her. There are many, many women in the world, Kelly. She's all yours."
"You're a fool," Kelly said.
Sebastian forced a smile. It turned out a snarl. He said, "Yes, I must be a fool. See you, Kelly."
"Goodbye," said Kelly, flatly.
Sebastian left. He went down the stairs quietly, only his heels clicking as he walked. Out in the street, he started whistling. The notes sounded very out of place on the sad, cold air.
But he whistled anyway.
Christine came out of the bedroom. Her always pale skin was whiter than ever, all her makeup was gone. She was dressed now.
Kelly started to get up, then sat down again.
He said, "I'm so sorry, Christine."
She said, "Have you any coffee?"
"Yes, of course." He went to the kitchen, put the coffee on. She followed him, sat at the table. "Are you all right? I mean...? "
"Yes, I'm all right. Don't worry." "I ... what can I say?" "Say nothing," she said. He nodded.
The coffee was ready. He poured two cups, spilling some each time. He sat opposite Christine. "Is it snowing out now?" she asked. "No, it's colder," he said. "Oh."
"Chris? Where will you go now? Back to New York?"
"I don't know."
"I'd like to help. Would you stay here?"
She shook her head, looking into her coffee cup.
"I'd like to help," he repeated.
"Haven't you done enough?" she asked.
"Yes," said Kelly. "I've done enough."
They drank coffee in silence. When she was through, Christine went to the bathroom. She came out looking better, hair combed, face made up. Her eyes still looked vacant.
"I'm going now, Bob," she said. "Goodbye."
"Goodbye, Chris," he said.
She left. Kelly swirled the coffee around his cup.
Goddamn it," he said, vaguely.
Christine went downstairs. She crossed the street to where the car was parked. She didn't know where else to go, hoped the keys were in the car. They were.
So was Earl Dreggs. He said, "Get in, Chris. It's a little warmer in here."
She hesitated for a moment, and then got in the car.
Earl said, "Where can I take you?"
"God knows," she said.
"You look terrible," he said.
"Shouldn't I?"
"I'm sorry. I meant. . . "
"You saw, didn't you?"
He nodded.
"Why did you wait for me?"
"Christine ... I know ... I think I know ... how you felt. Why you let them ... Oh hell, I don't care. That's over now, you're still the same person. I still like you."
"Where will you take me?"
"Wherever you want."
"Do you want me, too? Do you want to go to bed with me too, Earl? You can, you know," she said.
Earl looked out over the steering wheel.
"Is that why you waited, Earl?"
"I don't know," he said, slowly. "It might be. I like you."
"I want you to," she said. "I want to have you make love to me, Earl, right now I want it."
"Where can we go?" he asked. He still looked out of the windshield, eyes straight ahead. He did not understand. Christine knew he did not understand. She didn't care.
"My father's," she said. "They'll be out tonight."
Earl started the car, still not looking at her. He wasn't sure what he had expected, but not this. He wasn't even sure that he wanted to go to bed with her now.
Christine directed Earl. He drove out Route Twenty, several miles. Christine's father lived in a wealthy suburb. It was a large house, brown stone.
"Park in the driveway," she told him.
They got out and went to the door. Chris opened it with her key, and went in. Earl followed.
"Nice house," he said.
"I hate it," she said.
"Let's go up to my room," she said.
Earl took her shoulders. "We don't have to, Chris."
She smiled up at him. His lean features looked very sad to her. She wondered at her own ability to bring a smile to her face; at the fact that she felt very little emotion at that moment.
Earl said, "We really don't have to. I don't care."
"I want to," Christine said.
She led him up the stairs, down the hall. Earl had wanted Chris. He had wanted her several times before. But now that he was going to have her he wanted to turn, to leave.
He wanted to hit her.
But he didn't.
She entered a room, switched on the light. It was obviously her room, several of her paintings were on the wall, a photo of her was beside the bed. She looked around. It had been quite a while since she was here. "I've never made love here," she remarked.
Earl was silent.
"I want to bathe before we do it, Earl. I want to be clean for you, not have you after all the others. Will you wait?"
"I'll wait."
She went down the hall. Dreggs looked around, looked at her paintings, at her photo. God, he thought, how beautiful she was.
He heard water splashing and followed the sound to the bathroom. Chris was just getting in the tub. She looked up and said, "You can scrub my back, if you like."
Earl entered. Her pale, naked body excited him. He could feel the beads of sweat stand out on his forehead as he rubbed the soap on her skin. She looked up. "I like to have your hands on me!"
"You're nice ... smooth."
She raised her knees to her chin. "If only I was a virgin, huh?" she said, looking coy.
"I don't care," Earl answered.
"Really?" Christine asked him, "You really don't care, Earl?" Her voice was sarcastic.
He scrubbed her back and didn't look at her face. His own face was very warm, he thought it probably was red.
"Say that you love me."
"I love you," he said.
"Say that you really love me."
"I really love you."
"Do you?"
"Yes."
She got out of the tub; handed Earl the towel. She still is beautiful, he thought. He rubbed her dry, starting at the back.
"Dry me all over," she told him. His hands started to tremble, holding the towel. She looked over her shoulder. "Are you impatient?" "Yes," he said.
"Come," she told him. She walked out of the bathroom ahead of him. He watched the easy sway of her hips; threw the towel to the floor and followed her out. She went back to the bedroom.
Christine got on the bed. Earl undressed, and got on beside her. He hesitated. She said, "Earl, do everything to me. Everything. Let me do everything. I want to feel ... to be ... as degraded as possible. I want to be the most degraded woman in the world. I have no pride left. Nor any joy."
"I can't, Christine," he said. He got up, started to dress. "I'm sorry, I just can't. Damn it, I can't."
And for the first time since the party, Christine Alexandre started to cry. It started with one tear, in the corner of her left eye, and then all the tension and sorrow and despair burst forth and she rolled over and her whole body was wracked with sobs.
Dreggs watched. And he knew how she felt, and why. He sat next to her; put one hand on her waist.
"Will you marry me?" he asked.
She turned to him. Shook her head no, and buried her face against his bare chest. He stroked her hair, her shoulder.
"Christine, marry me."
"I will," she said.
"I love you, Christine."
"How can you?"
"Because I do."
"After what happened today? You just feel sorry for me."
"No."
"I don't care. I'll marry you, anyway. I don't care what the reason is."
"I love you, Christine. I do."
The tears had stopped. She clung to him. He stroked her body tenderly, her sides, her breasts. Very slowly she warmed to his touch.
She raised her lips to be kissed. Earl kissed her, hard but with love. Her tongue moved in his mouth, her fingers played on him.
"I love you, I love you," Christine murmured.
Earl touched her breasts, stroked them. They quivered, her whole body trembled. His hands slid down her, touching every curve, every dip and swell of her person. He said, "I want to know every inch of you. Every bit of your body. I want to know you with my hands. With my mouth."
"Know me," she whispered. "I want you to." "Take me!"
He answered the command, moving between her thighs. In one instant they joined together in the first moment of ecstasy.
Then, together, they moved.
Christine's legs were up, tightening around him. She panted, moaned, bit his neck until she tasted blood. He moved his body, teeth clenched with the strain which filled his whole being.
She sunk her nails in his flesh, cried out in unknown sounds of love. And lust. And need. And one gasping cry of fulfillment. And little moans then of completed love, and contented relaxation.
"Do you still love me, now," she asked. "Yes."
"As much as before?"
"More. More than anything in the world. I love you so very, very much."
"Will you still marry me?"
"Right away. Right now."
She smiled. She said, "I guess it was all for the best. Sebastian ... and those others at the party. If it hadn't happened, I wouldn't have loved you. I wouldn't have known that it was you I loved. I hope you don't mind about the others. Don't ever think of it. I'll never be unfaithful to you, Earl."
"I don't care what happened. I love you."
"It is so strange how things work out, sometimes," Christine said. "It makes one think that maybe there is a God after all."
Earl smiled. "It makes me think I'm lucky," he said.
"I'm lucky. It's me that's lucky. You are stuck with me forever. Am I good? Sebastian said I was too skinny. He said that Ginny was better than I am."
"He's a liar," Earl said, wondering if it were true.
"No," Chris said, "I was never this good for Sebastian. I know it, I was always more reserved."
"You're perfect for me, my darling."
"Good. I want to be."
Earl lit two cigarettes. He handed one to Chris, and drew on the other. The room was dark and he watched the two red points glow in the window pane. Brighten and fade.
like people, he thought.
like love.
He saw the lights of Boston, little pinpoints through the window, little points of love, each one a pinpoint of love. That thought is strange, he told himself. But so is love.