The Pisces
Page 56
Was this what the eve of one’s wedding was like? I felt that we were being held on the rock by Aphrodite herself. Tomorrow she would drop me into the water, but maybe the water was only her lap. What if I would only be dropping to a warmer, deeper embrace?
I moved against him again and again. As I moved, I imagined us beside a giant underwater sand castle. The walls of the castle were made of coral and sea crystals of all colors, textures, and sizes: peach, silver, pastel mint, cyan pieces embedded in translucent white chunks, big slabs made of thousands of tiny sparkling dark-green crystals, rusted gold rocks, transparent indigo pyramids, rosy sea glass, neon-orange honeycombs of coral. The castle had tall turrets and spires, and Theo and I were beside it, preparing to enter.
But then I began to come and, as I did, the castle melted slowly to the ground. He and I clung together as the castle vanished, eclipsed by a wave of pleasure, disappearing from my inner vision. I didn’t stop moving until I rode over the peak of that orgasm. If anyone had looked at the rocks they would have seen a woman, thirty-eight years old, hopefully a little younger-looking, writhing against what looked like a large fish. Or maybe they would have seen her just riding the air. I wasn’t sure which was crazier.
* * *
—
When I got back to the house Steve was awake at the kitchen table, eating cereal, wearing a pair of blue striped pajamas, hairs sticking out from his balding head. I was drenched with sea spray and grime. He looked at me sternly.
“Late-night swim?” he asked.
“Just a beach walk,” I said.
“I don’t know what went on while we were gone,” he said calmly. “But why is it that every time you come here, disaster strikes?”
“Don’t worry, I’m leaving tomorrow night,” I said.
“That’s not what I’m saying. I’m not telling you to leave. I only mean—your sister just wants to be good to you. She only wants you to be happy.”
“I know.”
“But you can’t not make a mess.”
“I guess I can’t.”
“If it were up to me, we would have hired a dog sitter. But Annika wanted to give you the time here. You know she’d do anything for you.”
“Would she?” I asked.
“Yes!” he said, as though it were crazy that I didn’t know. But the truth was, I didn’t.
“Whose blood is that? What happened?” he asked, pointing to the sofa. He had turned over the pillows.
“It’s—”
But just as I was about to answer, he cut me off.
“No, you know what? I don’t know what happened and I don’t want to know.”
“Okay,” I said. “But it’s my blood. There was no one else here but me.”
56.
The following evening I packed my suitcase. I thought about my little sweaters and dresses floating in the water as I packed up each one. It made me feel sad. I kept thinking the words belonging and my belongings. Dominic was no longer in the pantry. I wasn’t sure who had come and taken him away. It smelled heavily of ammonia, but I swore I could still smell death.
Annika had gone back inside the pantry. She was just sitting there on the floor with Dominic’s bowl and a squeaky toy in the shape of a duck.
She looked up at me.
“This was his favorite toy,” she said, giving it a squeeze. “Did you know that? Did I tell you that?”
“Yes. We played with it together a lot,” I lied.
“Good.” She smiled. “I wanted him to have the most beautiful life.”
“Annika, I am so sorry. I want you to know I’m grateful to you.”
“I knew I should have come home. I should have listened to my intuition. But you told me you could handle it. You said that nothing bad was going to happen to him, that he would be fine.”
“I know. If there is some way I can make this up to you—”
“No, it isn’t your fault,” she said. “It’s my fault.”
“You couldn’t have known. Even the vet didn’t know how sick he was exactly.”
“I will never forgive myself,” she said. “Never.”
“Annika,” I said.
There was nothing else left to say. I held out my hand to help her up. She took it, but instead of standing up, she brought me down to the floor to sit with her. With our backs pressed against the wall I held her hand with both of my hands. I softly stroked her skin, so that it was warmed. I felt nervous doing this, as though I wasn’t sure if it was appropriate. Why wouldn’t it be appropriate? We were sisters, after all. It was such a small act, but it felt so intimate. It was the gentleness and surety of the way I touched her hand that made me feel strange, as though I didn’t know I knew how to do this. I wondered who or what inside me was doing it. It was motherly, almost.
“Do you want me to play with your hair?” I asked her.
“Yes,” she said.
I put my knees up so she could lean against them. Then I rubbed the back of her neck and the scalp area behind her ears.
“Mmmm, that feels nice,” she said.
“Lie back,” I said, folding my legs into a cross-legged position. She put her head in my lap and closed her eyes. I traced each of her eyelids with my pointer fingers. I softly rubbed her eyebrows and between them, moving in circles up to her forehead and slowly tickling her scalp. I became less aware of time passing. I seemed to drift in and out of myself for a little while, as though the act of giving this sweet nurture somehow relieved me of having to be a person—or made being a person bearable. But every time I’d almost let go of myself completely, disappear into the experience, I remembered that I had somewhere else I was supposed to be. I didn’t want to remember. I wanted to forget all about my plan. But I felt that I had to go through with it, as though some other part of me that was not my head or my heart—more like an internal magnet—was grabbing me and pulling me toward another magnet.
“I’m going to have to go,” I said to her, giving her one final pat on the head.
“Where are you going?” she asked, looking up at me.
“The airport,” I said. “My cab will be here in a moment or two.”
“The airport?”
“Yes, I booked my ticket.”
“Oh no, don’t go,” she said.
“I felt like I should leave you guys alone.”
“No, I don’t want that!” she said. “Please stay. Steve is at work all day and it’s going to be so lonely without Dominic. I’m scared to be alone.”
“I can’t,” I said, standing up. “I have to get back to the university.”
“But I need you,” she said.
Suddenly I wanted to stay. For maybe the first time in my life, I didn’t want to abandon an uncomfortable feeling. I wanted to give her motherly love in the way she had tried to give me motherly love. Hers had always been from a distance, but it was there. And I wanted to give her motherly love in the way that she couldn’t give me motherly love: by staying, even when it was uncomfortable. Wasn’t it time that I showed up for her?
I also wanted to give her love in the sisterly way I had given Claire and Diana love. The group had taught me how to do that, imperfectly, but I knew what it was now. You just sat there with someone and listened. That was all you had to do. I wondered if Diana had finished fucking her way through all the tennis pros—if she had moved on to her son’s friend. Or if she was doing better again. I thought about Claire and wondered if I stayed in Venice how long we would stay friends. How long she would stay alive. Had I chosen her as a friend because she had an end date too?
I moved against him again and again. As I moved, I imagined us beside a giant underwater sand castle. The walls of the castle were made of coral and sea crystals of all colors, textures, and sizes: peach, silver, pastel mint, cyan pieces embedded in translucent white chunks, big slabs made of thousands of tiny sparkling dark-green crystals, rusted gold rocks, transparent indigo pyramids, rosy sea glass, neon-orange honeycombs of coral. The castle had tall turrets and spires, and Theo and I were beside it, preparing to enter.
But then I began to come and, as I did, the castle melted slowly to the ground. He and I clung together as the castle vanished, eclipsed by a wave of pleasure, disappearing from my inner vision. I didn’t stop moving until I rode over the peak of that orgasm. If anyone had looked at the rocks they would have seen a woman, thirty-eight years old, hopefully a little younger-looking, writhing against what looked like a large fish. Or maybe they would have seen her just riding the air. I wasn’t sure which was crazier.
* * *
—
When I got back to the house Steve was awake at the kitchen table, eating cereal, wearing a pair of blue striped pajamas, hairs sticking out from his balding head. I was drenched with sea spray and grime. He looked at me sternly.
“Late-night swim?” he asked.
“Just a beach walk,” I said.
“I don’t know what went on while we were gone,” he said calmly. “But why is it that every time you come here, disaster strikes?”
“Don’t worry, I’m leaving tomorrow night,” I said.
“That’s not what I’m saying. I’m not telling you to leave. I only mean—your sister just wants to be good to you. She only wants you to be happy.”
“I know.”
“But you can’t not make a mess.”
“I guess I can’t.”
“If it were up to me, we would have hired a dog sitter. But Annika wanted to give you the time here. You know she’d do anything for you.”
“Would she?” I asked.
“Yes!” he said, as though it were crazy that I didn’t know. But the truth was, I didn’t.
“Whose blood is that? What happened?” he asked, pointing to the sofa. He had turned over the pillows.
“It’s—”
But just as I was about to answer, he cut me off.
“No, you know what? I don’t know what happened and I don’t want to know.”
“Okay,” I said. “But it’s my blood. There was no one else here but me.”
56.
The following evening I packed my suitcase. I thought about my little sweaters and dresses floating in the water as I packed up each one. It made me feel sad. I kept thinking the words belonging and my belongings. Dominic was no longer in the pantry. I wasn’t sure who had come and taken him away. It smelled heavily of ammonia, but I swore I could still smell death.
Annika had gone back inside the pantry. She was just sitting there on the floor with Dominic’s bowl and a squeaky toy in the shape of a duck.
She looked up at me.
“This was his favorite toy,” she said, giving it a squeeze. “Did you know that? Did I tell you that?”
“Yes. We played with it together a lot,” I lied.
“Good.” She smiled. “I wanted him to have the most beautiful life.”
“Annika, I am so sorry. I want you to know I’m grateful to you.”
“I knew I should have come home. I should have listened to my intuition. But you told me you could handle it. You said that nothing bad was going to happen to him, that he would be fine.”
“I know. If there is some way I can make this up to you—”
“No, it isn’t your fault,” she said. “It’s my fault.”
“You couldn’t have known. Even the vet didn’t know how sick he was exactly.”
“I will never forgive myself,” she said. “Never.”
“Annika,” I said.
There was nothing else left to say. I held out my hand to help her up. She took it, but instead of standing up, she brought me down to the floor to sit with her. With our backs pressed against the wall I held her hand with both of my hands. I softly stroked her skin, so that it was warmed. I felt nervous doing this, as though I wasn’t sure if it was appropriate. Why wouldn’t it be appropriate? We were sisters, after all. It was such a small act, but it felt so intimate. It was the gentleness and surety of the way I touched her hand that made me feel strange, as though I didn’t know I knew how to do this. I wondered who or what inside me was doing it. It was motherly, almost.
“Do you want me to play with your hair?” I asked her.
“Yes,” she said.
I put my knees up so she could lean against them. Then I rubbed the back of her neck and the scalp area behind her ears.
“Mmmm, that feels nice,” she said.
“Lie back,” I said, folding my legs into a cross-legged position. She put her head in my lap and closed her eyes. I traced each of her eyelids with my pointer fingers. I softly rubbed her eyebrows and between them, moving in circles up to her forehead and slowly tickling her scalp. I became less aware of time passing. I seemed to drift in and out of myself for a little while, as though the act of giving this sweet nurture somehow relieved me of having to be a person—or made being a person bearable. But every time I’d almost let go of myself completely, disappear into the experience, I remembered that I had somewhere else I was supposed to be. I didn’t want to remember. I wanted to forget all about my plan. But I felt that I had to go through with it, as though some other part of me that was not my head or my heart—more like an internal magnet—was grabbing me and pulling me toward another magnet.
“I’m going to have to go,” I said to her, giving her one final pat on the head.
“Where are you going?” she asked, looking up at me.
“The airport,” I said. “My cab will be here in a moment or two.”
“The airport?”
“Yes, I booked my ticket.”
“Oh no, don’t go,” she said.
“I felt like I should leave you guys alone.”
“No, I don’t want that!” she said. “Please stay. Steve is at work all day and it’s going to be so lonely without Dominic. I’m scared to be alone.”
“I can’t,” I said, standing up. “I have to get back to the university.”
“But I need you,” she said.
Suddenly I wanted to stay. For maybe the first time in my life, I didn’t want to abandon an uncomfortable feeling. I wanted to give her motherly love in the way she had tried to give me motherly love. Hers had always been from a distance, but it was there. And I wanted to give her motherly love in the way that she couldn’t give me motherly love: by staying, even when it was uncomfortable. Wasn’t it time that I showed up for her?
I also wanted to give her love in the sisterly way I had given Claire and Diana love. The group had taught me how to do that, imperfectly, but I knew what it was now. You just sat there with someone and listened. That was all you had to do. I wondered if Diana had finished fucking her way through all the tennis pros—if she had moved on to her son’s friend. Or if she was doing better again. I thought about Claire and wondered if I stayed in Venice how long we would stay friends. How long she would stay alive. Had I chosen her as a friend because she had an end date too?
