The Man Who Was Not With It by Herbert Gold

Author:Herbert Gold [Gold, Herbert]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Workman Publishing
Published: 1956-08-14T22:00:00+00:00

18. Southern days and nights, with popcorn and crackers

WE said nothing straight out to anyone, but the word about Joy and me got around as fast as a hey-rube call. I guess she lounged by my side. I guess I leaned and gawked into her level eyes like a mark who all of a sudden really does win at the weight-guesser’s. Once I sat wearing nothing but a pair of shiny starched new khakis I had just picked up in an Army-Navy, no shoes or socks, no shirt, nothing but the pants, while Joy squeezed a blackhead on my chest. That really meant love and forever to me. She kept her fingernails from biting by wrapping a handkerchief about them; she pursed her lips and squinted and, by God, tears came to her eyes when I said: “Ouch!”

“Oh! Did I hurt you?”

“You’re killing me.”

“Then I’ll stop, Bud.”

“No, you might as well get it out now. Grow up, kid, things got to hurt in this life.”

She continued squeezing and paining me, saying, “Yes, Bud, it’s part of things, but I hate to hurt you.”

She hated to hurt me and did for my own good and we dearly were fond of each other. I never knew it could be like that. Of course, loving even Joy didn’t make me think only pure thoughts of love. Her small parts, her noises from the middle, her demands and complaints kept me busy. A woman is not just soul and hickie-squeezing, nor just body, nor even a simple mixture of both—she’s a hook, besides. Imagine Bud the worm happy on his hook, wriggling up against it, snuggling and warming the hard barb.

And see me, like any worm that has turned, doubting, quarreling, inflamed by novelty. Dare I risk so much of myself in the mystery and illusion of love? That intimacy begins by illusion, the mysteries of body making sense resonate like a lovely bell—and false, false, because no permanent earthly knowledge can stay forever in a clang of music.

Therefore we quarreled, too. I was unsure. We made it up. We quarreled over nothing but my doubts, and then loved again. “All right, all right, that’s all,” Joy would say, touching my hand and making me sure once more. What difference about the excuse for fighting? It was always the same reason—doubt and need, fear and need, testing and dreading.

“I’ll never talk like that again,” I said, “never. I promise you, Joy.”

“Probably you will,” she said. “But you should try not to.”

“I’ll try.”

“I will, too. We shouldn’t worry every little thing like that.”

Pauline even let Joy stop selling the tickets at her mittcamp so that she could join me at my store. She put on lipstick and rouge (I made her take off the rouge) and spent hours painting her fingernails and toes. She invited the customers, she smiled and chattered, she merely stood and her health and her pleasure gave the marks confidence. Funny that true love could help a talent for cheating! But

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.