Stories by Doris Lessing-第6章

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coffee　and　banged　straight　out。　next　morning　she　woke　before　he　did；　and　was　about　to　slide　quietly　out　of　bed　so　as　not　to　have　to　“put　on　the　performance；”　which　was　how　she　was　now　thinking　of　it；　but　he　sat　straight　up　in　bed　and　she　adjusted　her　face　so　that　she　was　staring　at　him　over　the　edge　of　the　duvet。　he　let　out　a　shout；　as　if　he　had　had　a　nightmare；　and　then　he　began　to　sob；　“you’re　a　cruel　woman；　mary。　you’re　a　cruel　hard　woman。”　that　night　he　sighed　in　his　sleep　and　groaned　and　shouted　out　what　sounded　like　imprecations　in　greek。　it　frightened　her。　he　could　kill　me；　she　thought；　and；　no；　she　wasn’t　anywhere　near　being　thrilled　but　decided；　i’ll　stop　it。　it’s　enough。　but　she　couldn’t　stop。　an　implacable　accusing　stare　had　fastened　itself　on　her　face。　and　she　thought；　but　i　started　it　all　for　a　good　reason；　didn’t　i？

and　the　days　passed。　on　an　evening　when　the　four　were　together　mary　hoped　the　others　would　not　notice　that　she　was　ignoring　demetrios　and　that　he　was　doing　anything　to　avoid　looking　at　her。　but　helen　noticed；　all　right。

next　day　mary　asked　helen；　“how　long　do　you　go　on　with　it？”

“i’ve　never　kept　it　up　longer　than　a　day。　well；　i　love　him；　don’t　i？”　she　sounded　a　bit　evasive。

it　was　now　three　weeks　since　mary　had　begun　the　treatment。　she　was　in　a　frenzy　of　panic；　and　did　not　go　out　at　all　but　sat　weeping；　and　then　sat　silent；　staring；　not　at　dmitri；　for　he　was　not　there；　but　at　the　wall。　she　did　not　know　what　was　happening；　but　it　was　terrible。　had　she　lost　her　husband？　he　was　not　ing　in　till　very　late；　because　he　had　been　drinking。　when　he　did　he　stumbled　around　the　room　swearing　at　her—in　greek。　then　one　night　he　didn’t　e　home。

“what’s　going　on　with　you　and　dmitri？”　asks　tom；　meeting　mary　in　the　street。　“are　you　having　a　quarrel？”

“nothing　like　that；”　mary　says　smiling；　while　she　feels　her　life　is　falling　apart。

in　bed　that　night　she　put　her　arms　around　her　drunk　husband；　from　behind；　and　nuzzled　up　and　said；　“e　on；　dmitri；　don’t　sulk。”　“go　to　hell！”　he　shouted；　and　blubbered　noisily；　in　a　way　that　made　her　hate　him；　and　then　he　suddenly　fell　asleep。　in　the　morning　she　was　up　and　out　of　bed　and　laid　the　breakfast；　and　when　he　came　out　of　the　bathroom；　already　putting　on　his　jacket　to　go　out；　she　held　him　at　the　door　and　said；　“i’ve　got　a　nice　breakfast　for　you。”

at　which　he　laughed；　but　it　was　like　a　bark；　and　he　shook　his　finger　at　her　in　clumsy　sarcasm　and　said；　“you’re　talking。　you　don’t　use　words　to　me；　so　shut　up；　i　don’t　want　to　hear　you。”　he　left。

mary　went　to　where　helen　was　with　the　baby。　she　was　among　a　group　of　wives　and　babies。　they　were　all　laughing　and　talking　and　joggling　their　babies　about。　was　that　really　helen？　was　she　ill　or　something？　she　looked　thin；　and　even　ugly；　with　her　lumpy　nursing　breasts。　and　as　she　stood　looking　at　helen；　thinking；　but　that’s　not　what　helen　is　like；　she　thought　that　these　days　dmitri　seemed　to　her　a　fat　clumsy　man　with　a　red　swollen　drinker’s　face。　mary　went　to　join　the　group　and　saw　that　helen　was　not　moving　up　on　the　bench　to　make　room　for　her。　mary　pushed　her　way　in；　and　her　determination　was　such　that　one　by　one　the　women　left　and　went　off　with　their　prams　and　pushchairs。

now　mary　told　helen　the　whole　story；　and　she　knew　she　sounded　like　a　madwoman。　helen　was　pushing　the　pram　back　and　forth。　she　pushed　it　one　way；　jiggled　it　up　and　down；　pulled　it　back　toward　her；　jiggled　it　in　a　long　thoughtful　pause；　and　pushed　it　forward　again；　and　to　mary　it　seemed　that　the　pram　had　bee　part　of　the　listening　and　judging。

“you’ve　kept　it　up　for　three　weeks？”　helen　said　at　last；　with　a　carefulness　that　told　mary　she　was　controlling　an　extreme　reaction。　her　face　was　severe。　she　might　never　have　been　mary’s　best　friend。　“three　weeks；”　stated　helen。　“no　wonder　he’s　sick。”

“is　he　sick？”

“can’t　you　see　for　yourself？”　said　this　new　helen；　with　her　cold　bleak　face；　not　beautiful　at　all。　they　were　sitting　on　an　ugly　wooden　bench　outside　a　pub　that　needed　painting；　and　wasn’t　all　that　attractive；　although　there　were　little　bay　trees　on　either　side　of　the　door。　the　trees　needed　watering　and　they　were　dusty。

“tom　said　that　demetrios　was　too　drunk　to　work　yesterday。　he’ll　lose　his　job　if　he’s　not　careful。”

the　words　“but　you　gave　me　the　idea”　could　not　get　themselves　off　mary’s　tongue。　she　was　asking　herself—and　she　was　in　the　grip　of　the　panic　that　seemed　to　be　her　permanent　condition—why　did　i　take　what　she　said　the　way　i　did？

“you’d　better　try　and　make　it　up　to　him；”　pronounced　helen；　and　she　got　up　from　the　bench　and　went　off　with　her　baby；　not　even　smiling　at　mary　or　saying；　“see　you　tomorrow。”

i’ve　lost　helen；　too；　thought　mary。　she　went　to　sit　outside　the　restaurant　where　dmitri　worked。　he　had　an　hour’s　break　in　the　afternoon。　when　he　came　out　she　ran　to　him　and　put　her　hand　on　his　arm　and　said；　“dmitri；　i’m　sorry；　i’m　sorry；　dmitri。”　she　was　crying　and　he　was　turning　away　from　her　and　saying；　“so　you’re　sorry；　and　that’s　all　you　have　to　say。　what　was　all　that　for？　i　wanted　a　kid；　that’s　all。　you’re　a　bad　woman；　mary。”　she　could　see　he　felt　horror　as　he　looked　at　her；　quickly；　for　he　was　afraid　that　cold　angry　stare　might　appear　again　on　her　face。　he　tried　to　pull　his　arm　away；　but　she　held　tight　and　said；　“please　please　please；　please；　dmitri。”　he　stood　there　half　turned　away；　with　nervous　side　glances　at　her；　but　avoiding　her　eyes；　which　afflicted　him。　she　thinks；　he　will　hate　me　forever；　but　pleads；　“please；　dmitri；　e　home　now。”　the　two　stood　close　on　the　pavement；　and　people　going　past　moved　well　out　of　their　way；　and　she　was　clinging　to　him　for　dear　life；　for　that　was　how　it　felt　to　her；　because　everything　was　at　stake。　she　was　weeping　loudly；　and　he　was　hot　and　red　and　miserable。　

home　was　only　a　few　minutes　away。　he　went　stumbling　beside　her　and　she　kept　tight　hold　of　him；　for　he　might　run　off　and　she　would　never　see　him　again。

at　home　she　tried　to　pull　him　into　the　bedroom；　but　he　sat　at　the　table　with　his　head　in　his　hands。　“what　are　you　thinking　now？”　he　asked。　“we’ll　have　sex　and　then　that’s　the　end　of　it？”

“i’ve　stopped　taking　the　pill；　dmitri。”

“so　you’ve　stopped　the　pill。”

“e　to　bed；　please；　dmitri。”

“what　a　way　to　make　a　baby。”

she　grabbed　his　hands　to　pull　him　up；　and　she　was　thinking；　but　when　have　i　ever　had　to　talk　him　into　bed　before？　he　let　himself　be　pulled；　and　stumbled　with　her　into　bed。　he　was　weeping；　with　rough　ugly　painful　sobs。　she　had　broken　him。　she　was　not　feeling　anything　like　her　little　thrill　of　victory　or　the　pleasant　fear　of　their　sexual　games。　inside　herself　she　was　babbling；　“he’ll　get　over　it；　he’ll　forget；　and　we’ll　go　back　to　how　we　were。”　for　now　it　seemed　to　her　that　how　they　had　been　was　wonderful；　and　she　could　not　understand　why　she　had　thrown　it　away。　

meanwhile　it　certainly　was　not　a　question　of　making　love；　or　even　of　sex；　because　she　was　holding　in　her　hand　a　small　limp　shrinking　piece　of　flesh；　and　nothing　like　this　had　ever　happened　before。

“don’t　you　do　it　again；”　he　was　saying；　in　his　new　rough　miserable　voice。　“don’t　you　do　it；　i’m　telling　you。　if　you　do　i’ll　kill　you。　i’ll　just　walk　out　and　never　e　home；　so　don’t　you　do　it。”

he　lay　down　on　the　bed；　but　on　his　back；　not　turned　away。　she　insinuated　herself　inside　his　arm；　lying　as　close　as　she　could。　“oh；　dmitri；　i’m　so　sorry。”　she　was　weeping　but　she　felt　better；　because　she　had　decided　to　hear　what　he　had　said　as　a　kind　of　forgiveness。　she　was　telling　herself；　“we’ll　forget　all　this　in　a　day　or　two　and　everything　will　be　as　it　was。”　？

　。。

　　，