Alexandrian Summer by Yitzhak Gormezano Goren

Author:Yitzhak Gormezano Goren [Goren, Yitzhak Gormezano]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: eBook ISBN: 9781939931221
Publisher: New Vessel Press
Published: 2015-05-12T04:00:00+00:00

22. UNE P.

Victor and Robby stood on the balcony, their chins pressed against their arms on the cool stone and the rough, peeling plaster. They watched the two men moving away up the street: a tall young man, blinding white, his blond hair reflecting the rays of the sun as they lingered on the brilliantine; a firm but slightly hunched older man, wearing black, a red fez burning atop his head in the afternoon sun.

“Do you know where he’s taking him?” Victor whispered in Robby’s ear, his breath hot and sticky. He did not wait for an answer and added, “To une P.” Robby’s eyes told him the hint was insufficient, and so he elaborated: “Une prostituée.”

Robby had never heard that word, but his heart told him that it’s meaning lay in those moldy, mysterious corners, in the appealing, frightening world of sex. Plug your ears, hear no more. But every cell in his body thirsted for more knowledge. In a strange voice he asked, “What’s that?”

Victor’s laugh resounded like a pile of empty cans tumbling down from the balcony.

Robby regretted asking. Once more he was dragged in spite of himself into a dangerous zone. He wanted to take it back. In his mind’s eye, he once more saw his parents walking around naked, cheerfully playing games that were not suitable for adults. He hated Victor Hamdi-Ali so. Hated him and waited, waited impatiently for his words.

“A prostitute is a woman who screws for money.”

“People pay for it?”

“You bet.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“You don’t believe me. Fine, don’t believe me. But there are houses like that, there are. You go there, walk in, pay, then they put you in a room where a woman waits for you, totally naked. You take your clothes off and screw her. After you finish, you pay and leave. It’s simple.”

Robby looked back at the two men walking away. “What! You mean to tell me that your father is taking your brother to a woman like that?”

“Shh … the whole house will hear you.”

“It can’t be!”

“You’re an idiot. What do you know, anyway? You’re a baby.” He turned his back on him with ridicule.

A father taking his son to a prostitute. Would his father also come to him one day and say, “Robby, let’s go,” then take him by the hand to a big, dark house? What do those houses look like? Maybe they’re more like palaces? Rooms upon rooms, like cells in a beehive. In each cell, a naked woman. His father would motion and say, “Choose, son, the world is your oyster,” twisting his face with a small, lusty smile. The whole world is gaping, pink genitalia. He wouldn’t know what to do. His eyes would cling to his father for help. Once he almost drowned in a whirlpool in the capricious sea, in the Agami neighborhood, and thought his end was nigh, but then he felt his father’s arm grab him, ripping him away from the water’s death grip. This time, however, his father would not come to his aid.

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