The Heirs

Sitting in his room after dinner, trying to read The Bramble Bush, his thoughts occupied and preoccupied by Vera, he worried that the evil spirit would not understand his suffering. The evil spirit was a creature of the Grimm Brothers, not the Bible; it had little respect for resisting temptation; it preferred payment in the body. I shall have to give my body over entirely to self-abnegation, he thought. He revised his plan. For seven days, he would not only deny himself Vera, he would subdue and mortify his flesh. He would fast during the day; he would take cold baths; he would sleep naked on the floor, without bedclothes; he would not touch himself; he would scourge his body with ropes. Throughout Rupert’s childhood, Father Falkes had flagellated himself with a cat-o’-nine-tails, leaving huge bloody welts on his back. At the time, Rupert had thought the practice was homage to his crypto-Catholicism. Years later, he came to believe the beatings were meant to suppress his longings for young men. Growing up in the British boys’ cloistered world of boarding schools, Rupert had thought all men were heterosexual, all boys homosexual. Homosexuality was a phase, like acne or involuntary erections, outgrown if not entirely forgotten, once a man was lucky enough to find a woman who would let him in.

A little after one a.m., Vera slipped into Rupert’s room. He hadn’t locked the door, a slipup in his plan. He was asleep on his back, lying on the hard floor, naked and exposed, the window open, the room cold and damp. She lay down beside him and started stroking him. He awoke with a start and sat up. “Please go away,” he said. “I can’t tonight. I’m doing penance.” He thought she would understand, being Catholic. She continued stroking him. “I want to stay,” she said. “Are you playing games with me?” She looked down. “He doesn’t want to do penance.” Vera slipped off her nightie and went down on him. Rupert was in agony. “Not that, please,” he said. She looked up at him. “You don’t really mean that,” she said, and went down again.

“Oh, God,” he said, his pleasure gaining on his agony. He made one last brave try to save himself. “Please, stop. We need to talk.” Vera lifted her head. “You can stay,” he said, “only if you let me come in behind.” Vera had refused to let him sodomize her, her one act of resistance. She got on her hands and knees in front of him. “Do it, do it now. I’m yours,” she said.

Satan had offered Jesus all the kingdoms of the world and their glory; he had not offered him Vera. That night, Rupert did everything with Vera he had ever imagined doing. He did it with her standing, sitting, lying under him, lying on top of him, backward, forward, on the floor, on the bed, in a chair, against the wall. He never used a condom. “You don’t need a rubber,” she said to him. “It’s much better without, for both of us.” At five, she left the room, barely able to stand. “What a night,” she said to him. “You were a tiger.” Lying on the bed, after she’d left, he cursed the evil spirit. “Do your worst,” he said out loud. “I’m done with you.”

The next afternoon, Rupert took Vera to Forty-Second Street, to a porn movie. “Watch carefully,” he said. “I want us to do everything they do.” Looking around the darkened theater, Vera was nervous and excited. She was the only female in the place. “Don’t worry,” he said. “I won’t let any of them touch you.” She took his hand and placed it under her blouse. “I hope you’ll touch me,” she said. “I’ll touch you.” Afterward, he bought her an éclair at Toffenetti’s. She had brought a camera with her, a Brownie. She asked a man on the street to take their picture. Vera smiled into the lens; Rupert looked down and sideways.



Vera was pregnant. She’d been to a clinic. “The rabbit died,” she told Rupert. “Early Valentine’s present.” He had noticed that Vera’s breasts had gotten larger, more sensitive. He had loved them only more. The news threw him into a tailspin. The evil spirit had done his worst.

“Who’s the father?” he said.

“Don’t be an idiot,” she said.

“How can this be?” he asked. “We’ve only had sex for a couple of months.”

She looked at him with disbelief. Was he an idiot? “Don’t you know how babies are made?”

“Why didn’t you use something?” he said.

“I always relied on you,” she said.

“You must have known you’d get pregnant if I didn’t use a condom.”

“We got carried away.”

Vera sat on his bed. She started undressing. “We can still have sex, and we won’t need condoms.” She took off her blouse and bra. Her breasts were the most beautiful things Rupert had ever seen. She slipped off her skirt and panties and lay down on the bed. “Come lie on top of me,” she said.

Afterward, as they lay on the bed, Vera started planning their future.

“We should get married soon,” she said. “Before I show. We can live here until you find a job. I’ll work to put you through college. You’re very smart, Robbie. You could be successful. Would your parents be able to come to the wedding? Where do they live in Scotland?”

Rupert sat up. “I can’t marry you,” he said. He was sweating. He pulled the blanket up. He thought he might throw up. He could feel his heart pulsing in his ears.

“What are you saying?” she said. “You have to marry me.”

“No, I can’t,” he said.

“You just made love to me again,” she said.

“I can’t.”

“What do I do?” she said. She started to cry.

Rupert took her hand. It was cool and dry. “Don’t cry,” he said. “I’ll think of something.” They sat without speaking. Rupert’s mind raced.

“I’ll be a good wife,” Vera said.

Rupert took a large breath. “We’ll talk tonight. I’ll do what’s best for us. Don’t say anything to anyone yet. Go to bed now. Get some sleep.” Vera smiled at him.

“Don’t you want to do it again?” she said.

“I need to think,” he said. “You should go.”

“I want you,” she said. She began stroking him.

“Don’t, don’t,” he said, “I need to think.”

“Think later,” she said.

She left his room at four a.m. At five, he went off to the bar, slipping out of the house while everyone was still asleep. He took his suitcase with him. The owner was getting ready to open. “You’re twelve hours early, Robert,” he said.

“I think I’ll take the back room tonight,” he said.

The owner nodded. “Don’t forget linens. And locks. You’ll need two, one for inside when you’re inside, one for outside when you’re outside. Get sturdy ones. Drunks break into rooms for the hell of it. Don’t leave the suitcase until you’ve got the locks. I don’t want to be responsible. Too many sinners here.” Robert handed the owner a five-dollar bill to cover his first week’s rent.

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