Garden of Eden (7 page)

When
he came out she was sitting back very formally against two pillows with all the
pillows neatly shaken out and placed two and two at the head of the bed.

"Do
I look all right with my head wet?"

"It's
just damp. You dried it with the towel."

"I
can cut it shorter on the forehead. I can do that myself. Or you can.

"I'd
like it if it came over your eyes.

"Maybe
it will," she said. "Who knows? Maybe we'll get tired of being
classical. And today we'll stay on the beach all through noon. We'll go way far
down it and we can tan really when the people all come in for lunch and then
we'll ride to St. Jean to eat when we're hungry at the Bar Basque. But first
you'll make us go to the beach because we need to."

"Good."

David
moved a chair over and put his hand close on hers and she looked at him and
said, "Two days ago I understood everything and then the absinthe made me
turn on it."

"I
know," David told her. "You couldn't help it."

"But
I hurt you about the clippings."

"No,"
he said. "You tried. You didn't make it."

"I'm
so sorry, David. Please believe me."

"Everybody
has strange things that mean things to them. You couldn't help it."

"No,"
the girl said and shook her head.

"It's
all right then," David said. "Don't cry. It's all right."

"I
never cry," she said. "But I can't help it."

"I
know it and you're beautiful when you cry.

"No.
Don't say it. But I never cried before did I?"

"Never."

"But
will it be bad for you if we stay here just two days on the beach? We haven't
had any chance to swim and it would be silly to have been here and not to swim.
Where are we going to go when we leave here? Oh. We haven't decided yet. We'll
probably decide tonight or in the morning. Where would you suggest?"

"I
think anywhere would be fine," David said.

"Well
maybe that's where we will go." "It's a big place."

"It's
nice to be alone though and I'll pack us nicely."

"There's
nothing much to do except put in toilet things and close two bags."

"We
can leave in the morning if you want. Truly I don't want to do anything to you
or have any bad effect on you.

The
waiter knocked on the door.

"There
was no more Perrier-Jouet, Madame, so I brought the Lanson."

She
had stopped crying and David's hand was still close on hers and he said,
"I know.

THEY
HAD SPENT the morning at the Prado and now were sitting at a place in a
building with thick stone walls. It was cool and very old. There were wine
casks around the walls. The tables were old and thick and the chairs were worn.
The light came from the door. The waiter brought them glasses of manzanilla
from the lowland near Cadiz called the Marismas with thin slices of jamón
serrano, a smoky, hard cured ham from pigs that fed on acorns, and bright red
spicy salchichón, another even spicier dark sausage from a town called Vich and
anchovies and garlic olives. They ate these and drank more of the manzanilla,
which was light and nutty tasting.

Catherine
had a Spanish-English Method book with a green cover on the table close to her
hand and David had a stack of the morning papers. It was a hot day but cool in
the old building and the waiter asked, "Do you want gazpacho?" He was
an old man and he filled their glasses again.

"Do
you think the señorita would like it?"

"Try
her," the waiter said gravely as though he were speaking of a mare.

It
came in a large bowl with ice floating with the slices of crisp cucumber,
tomato, garlic bread, green and red peppers, and the coarsely peppered liquid
that tasted lightly of oil and vinegar. "It's a salad soup,"
Catherine said. "It's delicious." "Es gazpacho," the waiter
said. They drank Valdepeñas now from a big pitcher and it started to build with
the foundation of the marismeño only held back temporarily by the dilution of
the gazpacho which it moved in on confidently. It built solidly. "What is
this wine?" Catherine asked. "It's an African wine," David said.
"They always say that Africa begins at the Pyrenees," Catherine said.
"I remember how impressed I was when I first heard it." "That's
one of those easy sayings," David said. "It's more complicated than
that. Just drink it." "But how can I tell about where Africa begins
if I've never been there? People are always telling you tricky things."
"Sure. You can tell." "The Basque country certainly wasn't like
Africa or anything I ever heard about Africa." "Neither is Asturias
nor Galicia but once you're in from the coast it gets to be Africa fast
enough." "But why didn't they ever paint that country?"
Catherine asked. "In all the backgrounds it is always the mountains out by
the Escorial." "The sierra," David said. "Nobody wanted to
buy pictures of Castilla the way you saw it. They never did have landscape
painters. The painters painted what was ordered." "Except Greco's
Toledo. It's terrible to have such a wonderful country and no good painters
ever paint it," Catherine said. 'What should we eat after the
gazpacho?" David said. The proprietor, who was a short middle-aged man,
heavily built and square faced, had come over. "He thinks we ought to have
meat of some kind."

"Hay
solomillo muy bueno," the owner insisted.

"No,
please," Catherine said. "Just a salad."

"Well,
at least drink a little wine," the proprietor said and refilled the
pitcher from the spigot of the cask behind the bar.

"I
shouldn't drink," Catherine said. "I'm sorry I'm talking so much. I'm
sorry if I talked stupidly. I usually do."

"You
talk very interestingly and awfully well for a hot day like this. Does the wine
make you talkative?"

"It's
a different sort of talkative than absinthe," Catherine said. "It
doesn't feel dangerous. I've started on my good new life and I'm reading now
and looking outward and trying not to think about myself so much and I'm going
to keep it up but we ought not to be in any town this time of year. Maybe we'll
go. The whole way here I saw wonderful things to paint and I can't paint at all
and never could. But I know wonderful things to write and I can't even write a
letter that isn't stupid. I never wanted to be a painter nor a writer until I
came to this country. Now it's just like being hungry all the time and there's
nothing you can ever do about it."

"The
country is here. You don't have to do anything about it. It's always here. The
Prado's here," David said.

"There's
nothing except through yourself," she said. "And I don't want to die
and it be gone.

"You
have every mile we drove. All the yellow country and the white hills and the
chaff blowing and the long lines of poplars by the road. You know what you saw
and what you felt and it's yours. Don't you have le Grau du Roi and Aigues
Mortes and all the Camargue that we rode through on our bikes? This will be the
same."

"But
what about when I'm dead?"

"Then
you're dead."

"But
I can't stand to be dead."

"Then
don't let it happen till it happens. Look at things and listen and feel."

"What
if I can't remember?"

He
had spoken about death as though it did not matter. She drank the wine and
looked at the thick stone walls in which there were only small windows with
bars high up that gave onto a narrow street where the sun did not shine. The
doorway, though, gave onto an arcade and the bright sunlight on the worn stones
of the square.

"When
you start to live outside yourself," Catherine said, "it's all
dangerous. Maybe I'd better go back into our world, your and my world that I
made up; we made up I mean. I was a great success in that world. It was only
four weeks ago. I think maybe I will be again."

The
salad came and then there was its greenness on the dark table and the sun on
the plaza beyond the arcade.

"Do
you feel better?" David asked.

"Yes,"
she said. "I was thinking so much about myself that I was getting
impossible again, like a painter and I was my own picture. It was awful. Now
that I'm all right again I hope it still lasts."

It
had rained hard and now the heat was broken. They were in the cool
shutter-slatted dimness of the big room in The Palace and had bathed together
in the deep water in the long deep tub and then had turned the plug and let the
full force of the water splash and flow over them, swirling as it drained away.
They had blotted each other with the huge towels and then come to the bed. As
they lay on the bed there was a cool breeze that came through the slats of the
blinds and moved over them. Catherine lay propped on her elbows with her chin
on her hands. "Do you think it would be fun if I went back to being a boy
again? It wouldn't be any trouble." "I like you the way you are now.
"It's sort of tempting. But I shouldn't do it in Spain I suppose. It's
such a formal country." "Stay the way you are. 'What makes your voice
be different when you say it? I think I'll do it." "No. Not
now." "Thank you for the not now. Should I make love this time as a
girl and then do it?" "You're a girl. You are a girl. You're my
lovely girl Catherine." "Yes I am your girl and I love you and I love
you and I love you. "Don't talk." "Yes I will. I'm your girl
Catherine and I love you please I love you always always always—"
"You don't have to keep saying it. I can tell." "I like to say
it and I have to say it and I've been a fine girl and a good girl and I will
again. I promise I will again. "You don't have to say it. "Oh yes I
do. I say it and I said it and you said it. You now please. Please you.

They
lay quiet for a long time and she said, "I love you so much and you're
such a good husband." "You blessed." 'Was I what you
wanted?" "What do you think?" "I hope I was."
"You were."

"I
promised truly and I will and I'll keep it. Now can I be a boy again?"

"Why?"

"Just
for a little while."

"Why?"

"I
loved it and I don't miss it but I'd like to be again in bed at night if it
isn't bad for you. Can I be again? If it's not bad for you?"

"The
hell with if it's bad for me."

"Then
can I?"

"Do
you really want to?"

He
had kept from saying have to so she said, "I don't have to but please if
it's all right. Can I please?"

"All
right." He kissed her and held her to him.

"Nobody
can tell which way I am but us. I'll only be a boy at night and won't embarrass
you. Don't worry about it please."

"All
right, boy."

"I
lied when I said I didn't have to. It came so suddenly today." He shut his
eyes and did not think and she kissed him and it had gone further now and he
could tell and feel the desperateness.

"Now
you change. Please. Don't make me change you. Must I? All right I will. You're
changed now. You are. You did it too. You are. You did it too. I did it to you
but you did it. Yes you did. You're my sweet dearest darling Catherine. You're
my sweet my lovely Catherine. You're my girl my dearest only girl. Oh thank you
thank you my girl—"