by Ruth Gogoll
I took off her pajamas and helped her into the tub. When the water touched her wounds, she groaned horribly. "You don't have to stay in long." I could almost feel her pain as though it were my own. "Only fifteen minutes. Can you tolerate that?"
She nodded with gritted teeth. The way it looked, I would've thought she had to tolerate a lot more than a bath.
After the bath was over and I'd put her to bed in a fresh pair of pajamas, she fell right back to sleep. And she thought she'd had enough sleep already!
She improved visibly. Her bruises changed color to green and then to a pale yellow. Fearfully, I had determined that she also had wounds on her face. She would have scars, if not terribly large ones. But I was worried about her self-consciousness. So much for her depended on her appearance. I wondered about myself. I was worried that she wouldn't be able to go back to work?
I sat in the small salon and read. Since she was doing better, I no longer needed to observe her constantly.
Unexpectedly, she suddenly appeared in the doorway. She even had her white robe on. She came in, smiling. She moved very slowly. Her graceful walk had not yet returned. With some effort, she sat down in the overstuffed chair. "Why are you sitting over there?" she asked.
I pointed to her book and her reading glasses. "That's obviously your spot," I explained.
She looked at me. Then she smiled again. It wasn't the same as before, but it was getting close. "I just wanted to see what you do while I sleep."
"You can see for yourself," I smiled. "I have wild orgies."
She seemed to find my slightly sarcastic tone a bit indecent, but she smiled anyway. "Yes, I can see that." Her gaze wandered through the room. I had the impression that she only now fully understood where she was. She took in the room and its furnishings with loving recognition. I could tell she was truly at home here. She sat up straight. "I'm going to get dressed."
"You're still too weak!" I protested with dismay. "You have to stay in bed for another couple of days."
"No," she countered solidly. "Today I'll stay home, but tomorrow I want to see for myself that I'm in Paris."
She wanted to go out? I'd gotten so used to her not going out that I'd never have thought of it on my own. But here, in Paris, that prohibition of course did not exist. She didn't have any clients here. Here, she was free. I noticed that I'd never even thought about whether she worked while in Paris. When I learned that she had an apartment here, I might've assumed automatically that she did. I really should be ashamed of myself!
"You'll overexert yourself." I was honestly worried about her. She seemed to be so hungry for life. And she was still very weak, even if she didn't want to admit it.
She laughed. "You would pack me in cotton if you could!"
"Yes," I said, "I would."
"It doesn't have to be the Ritz, you know. The bistro around the corner would do as well. Would that make you feel better?"
"Yes." She hadn't really quite convinced me yet, and she knew it.
"If you really want to go to the trouble, you can accompany me everywhere I go," she suggested congenially.
I laughed. "I was planning on it. You're not going to get rid of me that easily. Not in your condition."
She smiled to herself. "To listen to you, I'd think I was about to give birth."
I looked at her with interest, imagining her in the latter stages of pregnancy. Even then, she'd look absolutely stunning.
"Tsk, tsk," she said, shaking her head. "You don't expect me to fulfill that wish, now, do you?"
"What wish?" I asked, irritated.
"Seeing me pregnant," she said, amused.
I looked away. "I think you're well enough." She'd barely gotten out of bed, and already she was making fun of me again!
She stood up laboriously. "I'm going to start getting dressed. I have to practice for tomorrow." She looked back at me. "Would you like to help me?" Impossible! She was flirting with me!
"No," I declined obstinately. "I think you can do that by yourself."
"Yes," she agreed jokingly. "But with you, I'd have a lot more fun for the pain."
"Have fun," I replied sourly.
Still smiling a little, she made her way slowly out. Who was I, then?
After a rather long while, she returned. Good thing I'd thought to pack loose clothing for her. She was wearing the blue shirt that I'd loved on her so much. I was sure she'd had the jeans for years. They conformed to her figure perfectly. That set a few things going inside me. I swallowed. She wasn't even halfway done recovering, and already I was thinking thoughts like that!
I eyed her face. The blue of the shirt actually brought out the changing colors of her bruises. She saw my expression. "Oh, that," she glossed over my impression. "That can be corrected with a little makeup."
Corrected with a little makeup? She looked remarkably like Frankenstein's monster. But of course I couldn't tell her that.
"If you think so," I said, with as little doubt in my voice as possible.
"Yes," she assured me harmlessly. "I have some experience with that."
I almost fell out of my chair. Experience? With what? With makeup, or with "correcting" the marks that the "tastes" of her customers had left behind? I knew so little about her life. Except for the one time, she'd never really talked about it. She had always spared me that. I thought about the handcuffs around her wrists. Were those also marks that she normally "corrected" with makeup?
She hadn't, thank God, been watching me; instead, she'd had to devote her full attention to sitting down in her overstuffed chair. "So, here I'll stay," she announced now.
I had to pull myself from my dreary thoughts. "Until tomorrow?" I tried to joke.
She was already excited about it. I could see that clearly. "If necessary. In any case, it's better than lying in bed. That was starting to get boring."
She was bored in bed? I could fix that! Just hang in there!
Against her best will, she had to admit that staying up for a long time still required too much effort for her. She excused herself. Hours later, when I went to bed, she was sleeping quietly for the first time in days. I watched her for awhile, until I could feel the love welling up inside me. She didn't need to use her body at all to make me melt. She was so unendingly lovable. If only she would believe that herself!
Then next morning, I woke early, but she was already up. When I went into the bathroom, I found her in the tub. I didn't know where she'd gotten this boundless energy. Three days before, she'd barely been able to lift a finger. I smiled and knelt down next to her. "Is it still worth it for me to make coffee, or are we going right to the bistro?"
"I'm afraid it's still worth it," she stated rather remorsefully. "It'll be awhile before I'm done with all my preparations in here."
I stood up. "OK, then I'll be in the kitchen." I went out. Much longer in there and I wouldn't have been able to resist her - despite the bubble bath!
While I drank my coffee in the kitchen, I heard her rattling around; first in the bathroom and then in her bedroom. When I was working on my second cup, she came into the kitchen. She'd really pulled it off. Her face looked like it had never been injured. The most one might have suspected is that she'd just spent a rather passionate night somewhere.
"How do I look?" she asked, displaying her work.
"Breathtaking!" I was truly impressed.
"Thank you," she replied politely, "but that isn't quite what I meant." She smiled.
Why did we have to go out at all? "I can't see anything," I assured her honestly.
She was satisfied. "I had that impression also." She looked at my cup. "Can we go?"
I nodded.
It was a pleasure to watch how she handled herself so confidently and so freely in this neighborhood. She didn't quite have her flexibility back, so she walked rather stiffly yet. Had it not been for that limitation, she would've been the embodiment of liveliness. I kept feeling like I had to put the brakes on for her. She sparkled with joy.
&nb
sp; I just walked next to her in complete astonishment. The nearest bistro really was right around the corner. She entered casually and greeted everyone. She was obviously a regular here. What a difference from the carefully guarded hiding I'd seen her in before!
The man behind the counter greeted her with genuine pleasure. "Bonjour, Madame! Back in Paris again?" I could tell by looking at him that he appreciated the gift of her beauty as much as I did.
"Bonjour, Jean," she replied cheerfully. The pleasure was visible in her as well.
He'd already put a cafe noir in front of her. He looked at me politely. "Madame?" I took the same.
I was totally fascinated by the playing out of her connections with this world. Like all regular customers - here, that word had an uncomfortable aftertaste - she simply stood at the counter, stirring sugar into her coffee and conversing in brilliant French with the barkeep. They didn't talk about anything special - the weather, prices, the barman's children. But the whole thing held an unusual attraction for me. Here, she was a completely normal woman; here, she was at home.
She'd forgotten about me completely. I looked over at her and wished that I should never experience her any other way. After awhile, it occurred to her that she hadn't come in alone. She turned to face me.
"I'm sorry," she apologized with a guilty smile. "It's always like this when I come here. I didn't mean to -".
I interrupted her. "You don't need to apologize. It's just wonderful here." I continued softly, with a glance at the barman, "Does he understand German?"
She looked at me, confused. "Not a word."
"You are wonderful," I said.
If she hadn't been completely covered with a thick layer of makeup, I would've seen how red she turned. Instead, I could only guess. She turned back to the barman and let loose an extremely interesting torrent about the weather. He jumped in and helped her overcome the embarrassment he hadn't even noticed.
I sat on one of the nice barstools and observed her a little more. This could take some time. The other regulars - so I assumed - had gathered around, and the whole thing was one big conversation full of laughter.
I looked out the window and watched the bustling street traffic pass by.
Now and then, someone else came in, greeted her and the others, conversed with them or didn't, stayed or left.
Obviously, there were differences in degree of intimacy. One greeted her with a handshake, another in the typical Roman style with a kiss right, kiss left, kiss right on the cheeks. She must've been coming here a long time.
Why didn't she just stay here? Why did she torture herself by leaving this place of love and friendship in her life to go back there?
While I was wondering that and watching her, she caught my eye. She dodged the protests of the others charmingly, such that everyone said their friendly goodbyes, and came over to me at my table.
"I'm sorry," she said again. "I'm sure you expected this to go quite differently."
Actually, I hadn't expected anything. I just wanted to look out for her. "It's very interesting," I smiled at her reassuringly. "I love sitting in a bistro in Paris and watching you at your best. You couldn't bring me any greater joy."
She was upset again. I wanted to calm her and reached for her hand. She pulled away. Oh, boy, she didn't want that! I grinned. So that was one thing that this new environment required.
"Don't be afraid," I promised. "I'll be very good."
She was extremely uncomfortable. She fidgeted. "You have to understand..."
"I understand," I testified, still grinning. "I didn't become a lesbian yesterday, you know."
She was taken aback at first. Then she broke into a joyful laughter than sounded like tiny little raindrops. "Why...?" she asked. She started again. "Why isn't that a problem for you?"
"Because I don't have a problem with it. There are lots of things that I don't do in public, and most of them aren't even remotely related to who I sleep with."
She was still a bit taken aback. "Funny," she stated. "I've always heard differently before now."
"Do you have a problem with it?" I asked with genuine curiosity. Such things always interested me.
She considered this. "No, not really. I've just never really thought much about it before."
I understood that well. She had put so many other limitations and taboos on her life, she'd surely never gotten through to deal with this one before. She just never had occasion to. Besides, with whom would she hold hands? With her clients?
"But somehow, it still just doesn't seem right." She tried to knit her eyebrows, but gave that up right away with a wince. She wasn't nearly as well as she portrayed herself to be.
"No," I agreed with her, "I don't think it's right either. But that's not my problem, it's the problem of those who can't stand to look when two women are tender to one another." I shrugged. "For that, my time is too precious and life is too short. They should solve their own problems."
"I believe you're right," she pondered. "I'll have to think about that some more." She sat for awhile, deep in thought.
I looked at her and noticed that she was about to fall asleep. "Don't you think we'd better go home?" I asked urgently.
She sat up a little. "Yes, I'm suddenly awfully tired. I hadn't noticed it at all before." Of course not - she'd been swimming in a sea of friendship and happiness!
"Have you paid?" I was really afraid she was about to tip over right here. She looked absolutely exhausted, despite all the makeup.
She waved that away. "We don't need to. The first cup when I come to town is always on the house."
She gathered herself up and went once more up to the counter. She gathered the last of her strength for her goodbyes, and let her charm flow. It was obvious that everyone was captivated by her. They would have liked most to hold her, to keep her there. She declined regretfully, putting them all off to the next time.
We went back around the corner. As soon as we were out of sight, she leaned against the building. She was grey under her makeup. I was afraid for her. Why did she always have to overextend herself?
"Should I help you?" I asked. Somehow, I still had to get her home.
She shook her head. "I'll manage. Just let me rest here for a minute." She closed her eyes.
The control she exercised over her body was really unbelievable. After a minute, she opened her eyes again and said, "We can go." She still didn't look very well, but she walked along the street as if she had nothing more than a long day at work behind her. I didn't know how long her strength was going to last. I tried to stay as close to her as possible.
She made it into the apartment. On the other side of the door, she collapsed. I picked her up and helped her into the bedroom. There, she fell onto the bed and didn't make another sound. At first, I doubted that she was even still breathing. I put my ear to her mouth and was reassured. I laid her in a slightly more comfortable position, took off her shoes, pulled a blanket over her, and left her to sleep.
The next morning she'd go out again, I decided, but this time for x-rays!
Chapter 21
"Oh, no!" she moaned.
"Oh, yes!" I stood my ground. "Today you're going to be x-rayed. I promised the doctor you would. If I ever run into her again and she finds out that I broke my promise, she'll lynch me."
She tried again to get out of it. "Come on, she won't be that bad."
I had to have proof that she was well. Since she had collapsed yesterday, I was more worried about her. "Yes, she is that bad. You didn't really get a chance to talk to her. I did."
She had to admit that. "Yes, that's true." She sighed in resignation. "I'm not going to get anywhere against the two of you. When then?"
"Right after breakfast," I replied energetically. I didn't want to give her a chance to think about it too long.
When I picked her up at the doctor's office, she informed me, "Everything is fine. I'm supposed to take it easy for another week. Are you happy now?"
"Yes," I said.
"That was all I wanted to know." I looked over at her. "Did he ask you anything else?"
"Nothing special." She shrugged absently. "They always believe the story about the stairs."
My God! How often had she done this already?
Slowly, it began to seem like I'd spent my entire life up to this point in a glass box, sheltered from the evil sides of the world. I took a great deal for granted. Consideration of others, for instance, and mutual respect for the idea that people shouldn't hurt each other intentionally, or that everyone had a right to self-esteem.
I didn't ask her anything else. How could I question her life when I enjoyed everything so automatically that was obviously a luxury for her, that she only now and then got to experience here in Paris? I had rather ensure that this trip was as comfortable and relaxing as possible for her.
"What would you like as your treat for being so brave?" I kidded her gently.
"Do I get to choose?" She pouted a little. "That's new."
I held her tight, wrapped an arm around her neck, pulled her down to me, and kissed her softly on the lips. "You do," I said tenderly. "Anything you want, darling."
She was too surprised to react right away, then "darling" gave her another shock. Finally, she remarked, "I thought you didn't do that in public."
I laughed. "I didn't say that I never do it on general principle. I've just never felt like it before." I eyed her carefully. "If it bothers you, I'll never do it again."
She looked at me with an unreadable expression. Then she leaned over me and kissed me very lightly. "It doesn't bother me." Her face lightened. "I even think I could start to like it." She put an arm around my waist, and we took a few steps together like that.
"So," I asked again. "What would you like?"
She stopped. "I'm not quite sure. I don't want to make the same mistake I made yesterday."
"That was no mistake," I said warmly. "Those people did you so much good."
"Yes," she admitted, "but it was too strenuous. Today, I don't want to see any people." Did she mean me with that as well?
I looked at her questioningly. "Do you want to stay in the apartment?"
