Out of Mind by David Bergen

Out of Mind by David Bergen

Author:David Bergen [Bergen, David]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781773102177
Publisher: Goose Lane Editions
Published: 2021-08-17T00:00:00+00:00


Baptiste texted her during the day, and in the evenings. Innocent little notes. Eating at Clementine, and a photo of the eggs lying on a biscuit and a thick slice of bacon. At the art gallery. They have one Monet! Or, Rented skates at the Forks. I am falling, and a photo of him on skates, in the middle of the river trail, ankles bent, grinning. There was a girl beside him, holding him up. Lucille typically wrote back in the evening, and in that single text, she tried to cover everything he had sent her. So fun, she wrote. She felt like a teenager.

He came for a meal, every Friday. He kissed her on the cheek at the door, three times, making her dizzy, and he always told her that she was beautiful. He liked to touch her while she cooked, on the arm or the back. And each touch produced a shiver, and desire, which was not acted upon.

On one of these evenings, he told her that he had admired her immediately at the wedding. He said, You turned to me and talked about the poison of marriage.

I certainly didn’t say poisonous, Lucille said.

Not that word exactly. But a word I didn’t know. Similar to poison. And I thought, Whoaa. Strange. But at the same time, I thought, Oh, here is someone. He said that he hadn’t seen the words as cynical or mean, but very straightforward, and not only had the words moved him to like her, but it was her mouth, and the manner of the slight twist upwards on the left side, that he had adored. Immediately. And of course, your dress. And your dancing. And your energy. And your eyes. And your bare feet.

On that evening, when he said these words, they were sitting across from each other at her small table in the nook at the back of her house. She had made salmon, and green beans, and a salad with a lemon zest dressing. She had changed her clothes three times before his arrival, and on her bed upstairs, the cast-off clothes lay in a scattered pile. In the end, she had chosen pants with a slight flare, and sandals, and a loose, ginger-coloured top that was sleeveless. A brave decision for her, because she did not like what gravity had done to her arms. But she wanted him to see her, and to accept her, or perhaps she wanted him to recognize that she was too old. Or he might see that she was in fact young enough. What craziness.

One time, she had asked him how old a woman would have to be in order for him to think that she was too old. And as soon as she said this, she was embarrassed. For she was fishing, and she didn’t like how obvious her question was.

He smiled and said, Too old for what?

You know. Don’t be coy.

Do you mean attraction?

Sure, why not? she said. Attraction.

He said that attraction was a very general term.



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