The Demon

by Hubert Selby Jr.

  But then he found himself thinking about women; or standing in the doorway of his office looking around and suddenly becoming very aware of the womens legs and the length of their skirts. He could not remember ever having done this before. It seemed like he had never thought about them. Even before he was married. The action seemed always to have preceded the thought. He had walked with them, talked with them, danced with them, been in bed with them, but he could never remember thinking about them. He went back into his office and tried to dismiss the whole stupid mess from his mind, and for a while his work was the only thing he was conscious of, but soon he would become aware of the fact that he was thinking of some unidentifiable broad. He tried to replace the thoughts with thoughts of Linda, but somehow that repulsed him and he went back to his work and the conflict.

  A week was all he could take. He could not tolerate another day of inner turmoil and conflict that was so bad it interfered with his work—and that frightened him. He could not, would not, allow anything to threaten his position.

  This time he knew what he was going to do, and so there was no trouble in consciously reactivating an old routine. Actually, the ease with which he could reach down inside himself for the ability to just stroll into the nearest cafeteria and pick up a broad and take her to a hotel and bang her sent a cold stabbing pain between his eyes as he sat at his desk thinking about it.

  That night at home was awkward and tedious. He was conscious of all his actions and was constantly wondering if he was

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  acting the way he usually did. He tried to act and to talk as usual; yet he knew he was stiff. And indifferent. Especially in bed. A couple of hours before retiring he started to complain about a headache and a stiffness in the back of his neck from overwork. Soon, but not too soon, they were in bed and the light was out and he was lying on his side and the day was almost over and eventually he stumbled into a restless sleep.

  A week was still as long as he could go without picking up a woman. And now the frightening thing was the fact that he had accepted this, and on Friday afternoon he made some sort of excuse to the others and went to lunch alone. There was no attempt to fight it. He just scheduled his work around an extended lunch hour on Fridays. As soon as he had made the decision, he found that he was able to concentrate on his work.

  Of course he did not get laid every Friday, but that was not important. The important thing was the routine, the game, which allowed him to be free from that constant conflict so he could concentrate on his work and maintain his position and responsibilities.

  And soon he was able to accept this as a part of his life, but a part that was separate from the rest of his life. He no longer felt awkward at home on Friday nights, or any other night. It seemed to him that he was able to go home and act just as he always had. And why shouldnt he? He wasnt doing anything that every other married man didnt do, especially those in his circle. And, as far as he knew, all the women he picked up were married too. He didnt recall ever promising himself that he would be faithful to Linda, but if he had, hed been silly and immature. .. .

  Well, maybe sometimes he did feel a little twinge of something, especially when he had to beg off having lunch with the others. It was not that they questioned him or objected, and he certainly was not afraid that they would ask him to resign because he took a little extra time on Fridays—his days of being a junior executive whose time is accountable were over—but he felt as if he was stealing the time from the firm.

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  Whatever that twinge was, it could be ignored. But the conflict that twisted him in half, and threatened his ability to work, could not be ignored. So Harry rationalized himself into accepting a new phase of his life. And with the passing of time he became comfortable with this new schedule, this new phase, and soon it had become integrated into his life to the point where he took it for granted, and his life, at the office and at home, flowed along comfortably.

  And then one Wednesday afternoon he found himself following a woman into a department store. He watched her looking at bras and bikini panties and suddenly realized what he was doing and turned abruptly and went back to the office. He seemed to be running a foot race as he sat perfectly still at his desk. The panic stayed with him the rest of the day and he was unable to concentrate on his work. The only thing he was aware of was the intensity of his feelings, and his inability to identify the feelings increased his panic.

  Halfway through dinner that evening Linda asked him if something was wrong.

  Wrong?

  Well, I dont mean like trouble. You just seem sort of preoccupied, and quiet. I dont know, leaning back and laughing, if youre really acting any different tonight or if its just that the baby is quiet and we/re getting to spend a little time together . .. quietly.

  Harry could feel himself struggling into a smile. Well, Ive been thinking that maybe we should buy a house.

  Isnt this rather sudden?

  Not really. Ive been sort of turning it over in my head for a while.

  Gee, Harry, youve caught me unawares, smiling, I dont know what to say.

  It seems like a good idea to me.

  O, Im not protesting or complaining, sweetheart, its just that it will take a few minutes for me to adjust to the idea.

  I thought it might be nice if we had a yard ... a garden or something where you could maybe putter around with some

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  flowers and perhaps Harry Junior could just sort of romp around and you would not have to worry about him.

  That does sound wonderful, her smile becoming broader, I would really love to have a little garden. Where were you thinking of looking?

  Westchester. You dont have to go too far out of the city to find something nice.

  The more we talk about it, wiggling around in her seat, the more I like the idea. Im really getting excited about it.

  I/ll get in touch with a few brokers tomorrow and see whats available.

  What type of house were you thinking of?

  I dont know. I wasnt, I guess.

  I hope we can find an English Tudor. I just love them. Especially with a few trees and rose bushes and a curving walk with lilies of the valley. O Harry, it sounds wonderful.

  Well, it doesnt make any difference to me what kind of house it is. I dont know one from another, anyway.

  Linda looked at him for a moment, You sure you want to buy a house?

  Of course. I suggested it, didnt I?

  I know, sweetheart, but you dont seem very enthusiastic.

  I am, I am. I just have a lot on my mind, struggling to get that smile on his face again, thats all. And Im really happy that youre so excited about the idea.

  I am sweetheart, I really am. But if you dont want to its perfectly all right with me. Really. I know how much you love this place and Central Park West.

  I know, honey. Dont worry about it. I want to move. Believe me. I really do want to move.

  Money was no object and so it did not take long for them to find exactly what they wanted, or to be more precise, exactly what Linda wanted, Harry not being too particular, being primarily interested in as complete a change of scene as possible.

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  It was almost an acre, with fruit trees, maples, a large willow, as well as shrubs and bushes. It did not have the path or winding stream, but it had more than Linda had dreamed, and the house itself was more than a dream. When she called her mother to tell her about it, her mother burst into laughter from time to time and told her to slow down, youre going as fast as a rabbit running from a dog.

  O, but Mom, its so beautiful.

  All right dear, I believe you. Its beautiful.

  They both laughed and Linda continued to describe the house and grounds in minute detail.

  Waiting for the paper work to be completed and for everything to clear escrow was probably the most anxious time of Lindas life. Each evening when Harry got home she asked him if he had heard anything further yet and he shook his head and told her t
o relax. It takes time. A few more weeks and everything will be cleared.

  But I cant relax. I think blue curtains in Harry Juniors room would be nice, dont you? And gold ones in the living room to blend with the furniture, and maybe—

  Hey, wait a minute, laughing and putting his arms around her. You keep going around in circles, and the first thing you know you will end up behind yourself and you may never get right side out again.

  O, Harry, you nut, wrapping her arms around his neck and rubbing her nose against his, Im so excited I could burst.

  O really, I didnt notice.

  Harry, in his own way, was just as excited as Linda, but for a different reason. And it manifested itself differently, which was, in fact, the reason for his excitement. Just being exposed to Lindas excitement was enough to excite him, but the real reason was that his recent pattern had been broken and he no longer went strolling the streets on Friday afternoon looking for a woman, but spent his lunch hours with Walt and the others.

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  And, more than that, his mind was clear of the thoughts, and terrible conflicts, and his body was free of those bewildering feelings. He felt free inside and was able to concentrate on his work as before, and did not feel awkward or self-conscious at home. Everything seemed to be completely normal.

  When he finally heard from the broker that the house was officially theirs, he started to call Linda, but stopped halfway through dialing. He thought it would be better if he were there to tell her just in case she fainted or burst a blood vessel. He laughed to himself, and from time to time during the remainder of the afternoon he stopped working for a moment and closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair and thought of the evening coming and how Linda would jump and shriek when he told her the house was theirs, and he had the damndest feeling all through him as he watched his wifes excitement in his minds eye and felt her pleasure.

  For almost a week, or maybe more—she wasnt sure just how long—Linda refrained from asking Harry if he had heard anything further about the house. She realized that if she did not stop thinking about it constantly her preoccupation with the house would become an obsession and she would go crazy whether or not they did get the house. And so, no mention was made of the matter, and they were eating dinner and chitchatting when Harry said en passant, O, by the way, I heard from Ralph today and the house is ours, and then he put another piece of potato in his mouth and asked her how her mother was.

  Linda stared for a moment and almost said that her mother was fine, then suddenly stood up and ended up on Harrys lap all in one impossible movement. O Harry, thats wonderful, hugging him, kissing him, squeezing him, wonderful. It really went through. O, I can hardly believe it. Thats wonderful. Its ours. I cant believe it. I just cant believe that it is really ours.

  And the bank. Dont forget the bank.

  O, youll own the bank someday too. I must tell Mom and Dad. And Harry.

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  Getting the house ready and getting ready to move was as exciting, in a different way, of course, as the first days of marriage (my God, thats more than two years already). They were both excited and involved in what was happening in their lives together, and they fed each others excitement.

  Finally the day came when the house was ready and they moved; Linda took care of that while Harry worked. When he got to the house that evening, there were cardboard boxes and barrels every which where, but enough had been unpacked so they could eat comfortably and sleep.

  Harry realized that Linda would need a car, now that they were bona fide suburbanites, so the first thing he did was to buy a second Mercedes. The second thing he did was to join the Wooddale Country Club.

  Although Linda had project after project to pursue in the house or gardens, Harry was soon settled in and was completely oriented to the new home and the ride to and from the city. For quite some time Lindas constant enthusiasm kept him involved with the newness of their situation, but soon it became routine to him and he vaguely and gradually became aware of disquieting feelings drifting through him. He could feel a vague knowledge tentatively reaching up from his gut to his head and he tried to ignore it, but it persisted and though he could not define it, neither could he ignore it, and it continually prodded him like some irresistible force cloaked in the vagueness of the ancient past.

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  11

  Now Harry accepted his involvement with other women philosophically. It was better than fighting that maddening desire that flushed itself through him. At least by not fighting the urge he could concentrate on his work and exercise control over his actions—a strange type of control.

  For a while he would just walk around the street on an occasional afternoon, not really looking at the women, but just more or less browsing. But soon he was out almost every afternoon watching the women intently as he walked in the street or roamed through a store or just sat and absent-mindedly ate lunch. And it worked. This degree of indulgence allowed him to satisfy the disquieting feelings and to continue to live a normal life at work and at home.

  But soon the control started to weaken and he was once again in a hotel room with a woman in the afternoon. He did

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  not fight or question it, but simply showered and went back to the office and to work. And this seemed to satisfy that little knot in his gut, and it seemed to remain satisfied with just a once-a-month routine, the rest of the time spent simply roaming and looking, or with Walt and the others.

  And though he was still able to maintain a limited degree of control over his actions, he did not seem to have very much control over his thoughts. He would be sitting on the train on his way to the office, trying to concentrate on the newspaper, and he would come across an article on the cost of medical services and then would find himself wondering what a gynecologist did when he was examining a beautiful young girl or woman. Did he bend over and kiss her while his fingers were probing? Did he examine her alone or did he and his nurse—he twisted the paper in his hands and opened his eyes as wide as he could and stared out the window, trying to shove thought and image from his mind, but somehow the clicking and clacking of the train on the tracks developed into the sensual moans of a woman and he kept seeing a young girl on the table with her feet clamped in the stirrups and the doctor and the nurse getting ready, and he shoved the picture out of his mind again and thought of something else and quickly jerked the paper open and quickly rechecked yesterdays closing prices and went over the endless listings, checking his stocks, and eventually felt free from the image, but it would suddenly pop into his mind from time to time during the day and he would again and again be forced to struggle it out of his mind and he would not go out to lunch but stay in his office as deeply immersed in his work as possible, but whenever he passed women in the office, or on the way home, he would find himself staring at their crotch and they became walking snatches and he would get so tied up inside his legs would feel weak, but at last he would reach the sanctuary of his home where he could relax and feel free of the tensions and nameless fears that twisted and plagued him these days and he could find the proper object for his lust.

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  Linda was sensitive to her husbands moods, and could feel, more than see, the change, the tension, in him. There was perhaps a little more silence than usual and a general quietness; and, of course, she was very aware of the difference in bed, the way in which they did or did not make love.

  There were those times when Harry would be very blatant about being tired and having had a difficult day before they were finished with dinner, and when they went to bed she could feel the tension in him and wanted just to reach over and tell him he did not have to explain anything, that it was perfectly all right if he did not want to make love. But she was afraid it would embarrass him and so she did not, but just kissed him good night, without caressing him the way she wanted to, so he could relax and get the rest he needed.

  And there were those nights when Harry would more or less be the same as usua
l except that she could feel he was forcing it, and though he looked tired and weary he said nothing, and she knew that when they went to bed he would be a little more forceful in his lovemaking because of the tension that had built up within him during the day. And though a small, secret part of her felt a little hurt because it knew that not all the excitement Harry felt was due to her, he aroused such an overwhelming excitement in her that this feeling was easily flooded away. This happened easily as she not only knew that she loved Harry, but also knew, without doubt, that he loved her, and if ever there seemed to be distance between them she knew that it was something that would pass rapidly and was simply due to the pressures of Harrys work. He is a very sensitive and brilliant man, and high-strung. And, after all, he is the youngest executive vice-president the firm has ever had, and you have to expect him to be a little moody once in a while. Its only human.

  And Lindas days were so full she did not have time, nor the desire, to create problems for herself. Although she now

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  had a full-time housekeeper, at Harrys insistence, she refused to have a maid or cook or nurse for Harry Junior. She was still a wife and mother and would continue to take personal care of her family. And though they had a gardener to take care of the mowing, pruning of the trees and other heavy work, the gardens were hers and she spent many joyous hours in them with Harry Junior, who was now walking and stumbling around and making all manner of sounds. They had a swing set in the back, and Linda would swing him on her lap and sing to him as they gently swung back and forth. He was growing like a weed and was Lindas little man.

  The next time Harry had to entertain visiting representatives he stayed in the city all night. He had not planned on doing it, but it just seemed to happen that way. He found himself rolling on the bed with one of their public relations people, knowing that he still had time to catch the last train home, but also knowing that he was not going to leave. The decision came from outside him and was forced on him and he accepted it with no real struggle. Just a little dismay.