Travis McGee 1-3 by John D Macdonald

Author:John D Macdonald [MacDonald, John D.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Transworld
Published: 2013-01-08T16:00:00+00:00

On Monday morning as she was scrambling eggs, all dressed for work, she turned to me and said, “Hey!”

“What, honey?”

“I just remembered. It did cure those hiccups.”

“Yes, but can we patent it?”

She grinned like an urchin. “Maybe not, but we sure know what to do about the next attack.”

I patted her and said, “Miss Nina, modern medical science thinks in terms of prevention rather than cure.”

She pondered that for a few moments and said, “You know, sweetheart, it’s sort of awe-inspiring to think that I may never have another case of hiccups as long as I live. It’s the least you can do for me.”

She was my joy. She served the eggs and put the pan under the faucet. Then she whirled and with a look of small despair said, “Please tell me, am I too goddam elfin for you?”

“What?”

“Too utterly disgustingly kittenish and prancy and cutey-cute. You know what I mean. Elfin, for God’s sake. I just can’t be a dignified lady in love—all sighs and swoons. Except for when it’s really happening, sex with you makes me feel like all games and riots and jokes and prancing. Does it bug you, darling?”

“Not at all.”

“I could try to be sort of glamorous.”

“Come sit down and eat your eggs before they get cold, you fool woman.”

“You do things and it starts me giggling. It’s just a sort of a kind of joy, darling. But I don’t really want to be a silly child-bride to you.”

“Clue me with giggles. Delight me with games. If you were my own device, girl, if I had invented you, geared you, shaped you, wired you for sound, I would have made you exactly what you are in every respect. Does that hold you?”

“Uh huh. But is love supposed to be … so much darned fun?”

“Until the prudes came on the scene, it probably always was.”

She sat solemnly and ate scrambled eggs for a few minutes, glancing at me, wearing a slight frown.

“Trav?”

“Yes, dear.”

“Then maybe what’s wrong with me, I worry about enjoying it too much. I like every part of everything. Just even holding you while you sleep makes my heart turn over and over. I want to be you. I want us to be one creature, wearing one skin, knowing any pain or pleasure as if we were all of one part. Like once last night, a time when I couldn’t reach you, I turned my head like this and kissed my own shoulder, and it made sense to me, and I laughed out loud, because it was our flesh I was kissing with one of our mouths.”

I looked at her earnest and troubled face. “Nina, it isn’t foolish or wicked to enjoy. Wickedness is hurting people on purpose. I love what you are and how you are and who you are. You give me great joy. And you make horrible coffee.”

“I know. Isn’t it foul?”

I walked her to work. As we parted she said, “I give you permission to sit on that railing and leer at the Snow Maiden while you wait for me.

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