Crossings (28 page)

‘Oh Mik. No! Not with a sandwich. A … a gin and tonic, please.'

‘You watch her, she's a real lush,' says Mik. ‘Fell in love with her 'cause I thought she was Oriental, but it turns out it was yellow jaundice all along. Don't trust women, buddy.' The waiter laughs.

‘Did ya see his eyes bug out?'

‘Well, if you will talk to waiters …'

‘Not him. The prick my sister married. Hundred-year mortgage. Hoo!'

‘I take it I performed creditably,' I say. ‘I take it they consider me a fine upstanding citizen who will encourage you to tread the straight and narrow.'

Mik has finished his drink and holds up his finger for another.

‘I take it I am seen as “A Good Influence.”'

‘The prick was dying to know if I'm putting it to you.'

‘Did he
ask
?
'

‘Nah. He was just dying to know.'

‘You didn't say …'

‘Come on.' The waiter brings my gin and tonic and Mik's new whiskey.

‘What did your mother say?'

He shakes his head.

‘No. Mik. Tell me.'

‘Ah, she wouldn't believe it if I drove up in a Cadillac.' He drains the glass and stares at it. ‘I caught her once. With this guy.'

‘Oh Mik.'

‘I come home from school and there they are, humping it in the front room. On the sofa.'

‘Oh Mik, you shouldn't tell me.'

‘Rotten bitch.'

‘Aw Mik, come on, you don't know what …'

‘I hate her guts,' he says and holds up his finger again.

‘Don't get drunk.'

‘What's it to you?'

‘Well, for one thing,' archly, ‘it impairs your faculties.'

‘“Impairs my faculties,”' he says, and then hoots. ‘Okay,' and he calls me the name I can't remember. ‘One for the road.'

After a while, he says, ‘I got married once.'

‘You never told me.'

‘I don't tell you everything. It was when I got back from overseas. She lived down the street. Her mother and my mother, they were big buddies. Her mother used to have me over, feed me up. 'Course I looked all right then. I wasn't so bald. I had this big patch on the top of my head but I looked okay. From the silver plate. Girls used to go for the uniform. I wore it even after.' He grins. ‘Big hero. I had all this salad up here,' and he touches his breast. ‘You know, good conduct medals. But I looked okay. Anyway. I knew her six weeks … like I knew her before, but this time, it was six weeks, and we got married. Big wedding. The whole schmozz. White dress. Navy blue suit. Rice.' He swirled his glass.

‘What did she look like?'

‘Blonde. She was blonde.' He drinks. ‘A real bitch.'

‘How old was she?'

‘Eighteen. I took her to this hotel,' and he names it but now I don't remember. ‘In Winnipeg? I didn't touch her, see? The whole six weeks. Like she's glass. Like she'll break if I lay a finger on her. And she says, when we get into bed, she says …'

‘What?'

‘She's up the stump. Some other fucker.'

‘Oh Mik.'

He laughs. ‘Yah. I'm waiting there, the big punk, the sucker, and she gets in beside me in this nightie, all white and frilly, and she says, “Mik? I got something I better tell you.”' He laughs again but it comes out like a grunt.

‘She didn't have to tell you,' I say finally. ‘She could have let you think …'

‘She took me. What a punk.'

‘You need never have known.'

He gives me one of his looks, long and considering.

‘Oh yes. I know. We're all alike. I know what you're thinking. All I'm saying is, she didn't have to be honest.'

‘I just got up and humped it out of there, left her right where she was. Crying her guts out.'

‘Sometimes I think it's all a story. Everything you tell me. The whole thing.'

‘She got a divorce. I got the papers. Out here. Maybe she annulled it. I don't know. I tore them up, when they come. I never read them. Anyway, we're divorced, don't you worry.'

‘I wasn't.'

‘Yah, well, don't.'

We walk home through the late August night. The air is soft and warm, below the bridge the tugs are moving out to sea, lonely, their riding lights red. Down the shaded streets, the air so thick with blossom that it's like moving through water. I take off my shoes and run ahead of him, down the cool sidewalk. He is laughing. I am laughing. People look at us and smile.

And in bed, he says, ‘Don't you worry. I'm divorced. It's all legal.'

‘I wasn't worrying. I'm not trying to trap you.'

‘Yah. That's right. Keep it up, tough guy,' or something like that.

 

I WOULD WEAR the diaphragm all the time. I'd take it out and wash it and wave it in the air to dry and then I'd squeeze out more goo and pop the whole business back in. Mik would make jokes about me going all mildew but I couldn't depend upon him not to arrive home in the middle of the day. And we made love every night.

But one afternoon, I took it out and left it to dry on the window ledge in the bathroom. I was vacuuming our bedroom and so I didn't hear him come upstairs. I heard the bedroom door bang against the wall though and I looked up and there he was, and he said, ‘I'm gonna give you a baby.'

 

‘LIKE HELL,' I said, but he threw me on the bed and started to pull down my jeans.

I was furious. I hit him in the face and he whammed me back.

‘Hey, that hurt!' I said. I was surprised more than anything.

He looked so strange, not like Mik at all. ‘You look like Ghenghis Khan,' I said, still half-amused. ‘Hey Mik. Don't be crazy.'

He had me half sitting up in the bed, my T-shirt around my head.

‘Hey Mik! Hey.'

And I felt my brassiere rip away. This convinced me more than any wham could have done. Tear my clothes? Hey.

‘Oh no you don't.' And I rolled over toward the edge of the bed, but he caught me and hauled me back again. I was all dangling straps and jeans down around my ankles, and very aware of how silly I looked.

‘You leave me alone or I'll scream.'

And his hand came up and covered my mouth and nose and eyes. I could feel his other hand getting all the bits and pieces off me and then trying to spread my legs. I clamped them together, and his hand went away. I'd always read that no one could be raped if she didn't really want to be. And I kept my legs firmly together, grimly trying to breathe under that hand. I decided he must be drunk. I heard his zipper go down and could feel him wrestling with his own clothes. It was getting hot and dark under his hand and I started to feel sick. ‘Mik?' But it came out all muffled. It was a bit like going under ether, the darkness going round and round and trying not to fall into it.

And all the time, the vacuum was roaring away like a siren. I tried to get my teeth into his palm, but couldn't manage it. I don't think I was taking it very seriously even then.

And then the cats thumped onto the bed, had to see what was going on.

Mik took his hand away from my face. He was naked now. And reached down to pull out the vacuum cord. This struck me as hilarious. All the serious business of rape being interrupted by vacuums and Siamese cats.

Mik gathered them up in a bundle and threw them out the door, slamming it behind them. All through the next part, they were whining and snuffling and scratching away.

I said, ‘How dare you!' about the cats. I know this because he teased me about it later, “How dare you!”' laughing at me. But I was really indignant about the cats, throwing them out like that, so rough.

I said something like ‘Don't look like that, Mik. You're scaring me.'

And then I was almost afraid of him. My body seemed to draw itself in, all the soft edges going somewhere deep inside, to some hidden core. I scrabbled up to the top of the bed and grabbed a pillow to put in front of me.

He was standing there, swaying, his penis thick, engorged, purple. I sort of laughed. ‘Now Mik …'

And he jumped at me.

I didn't waste my time yelling. There was no one to hear. I raked his face with my fingernails and felt the skin gathering under them. I put my thumb in his eye. I kneed him once and he gave a grunt. The struggle went on in a grim silent way. Both of us breathing like gladiators. I kept clamping my legs together and he kept pulling them apart. I kept writhing to one side just as he was about to make it. I think I laughed at one point, it was so difficult for him, it was just like the books said. So he fell on me full length and put one hand to my throat and squeezed. That was different. Things got very black and very sick. And my legs were apart and it was smashing against me, still not getting in, but smashing against the inside of my thighs, my pelvic bone. I pressed my hips down into the bed but it just kept on smashing and missing. He took away his hand, and I could breathe but I wasn't fast enough. He lifted my bum with one hand and tried to guide it in but I was too dry and the fight had made him limp. He swore. I think I was crying. It was awful, little whimpering sounds like a coward. He ran his hand up and down his penis until it was hard again, and then, gripping me like death, pushed it in. I stopped making noises. I just went rigid and held my face in.

It went on and on, like a bad movie. And when he came in me, he came silently, not like Mik at all. Pulling my thighs back and forth to his movements, and just coming. It felt so hot, and molten, like sulphuric acid. And he pulled out and just went to the bathroom.

I was more astonished than anything else. Astonished and indignant. And mad. And I hurt, and this made me even madder. And I
whimpered.
And this I could never forgive him. I hated myself.

When he came back, his bare feet thudding against the floor, I said, ‘You
raped
me.' He was picking up his clothes, putting them on.

He didn't say anything. He just got dressed.

‘You left your shit in me,' I said.

This made him stop for a moment, but then he went right on, getting dressed.

And then, he just went down the stairs and out of the house. Not even slamming the front door.

The cats came roaring in and jumped up on the bed, sniffing. What's going on?

I went to the bathroom and ran a hot tub.

Somewhere in the other bedroom, Jocelyn's, was my douche kit. I found it finally, down at the bottom of the drawer. I always hated douching, even before I read it wasn't good for you.

I had to kneel at first, inching down into the water, it was so scalding. Letting the water rise gradually. Down there it hurt like billy-oh. I took the nail brush and scrubbed all my thighs, even there. I could have torn the flesh off the bones.

I got out at one point and went down to the kitchen to mix up something good and strong for the douche, but all I could find was Javex and I wasn't having that. I didn't hate myself that much. I finally mixed up some salt and soda, thinking it was better than nothing. I couldn't think what women were supposed to use anyway. Lysol? I kept on douching until my muscles wouldn't let the syringe go in anymore. Then I took all the bedding and my ripped-up clothes and shoved them down the laundry chute. ‘Oh no you don't,' I said because Sally had leapt up and was teetering on the ledge, ready for her free fall all over again.

Then I got dressed in something and phoned Paul.

‘Have you still got your rifle?'

‘Yes?'

‘Bring it over,' I said and hung up.

He was over in minutes. ‘What happened?'

‘Nothing yet. I'm just going to kill the son of a bitch.'

‘I knew this would happen. Did he hit you?'

‘Just give me the rifle and get the hell out.'

But Paul said No, he was staying. If there was any trouble, he would kill Mik.

Jocelyn came home and said, ‘Oh god,' looking at Paul sitting there on the chesterfield with the rifle across his lap. ‘You're all mad,' she said and went over to David's for the night.