“What do you mean by that? Why would you question me like that? Who the fuck do you think you are? My equal? You think that sucking my dick gives you any sort of position or standing in this world? The minute I stop letting you suck my dick, you go back to being poor. Now take off your clothes and show me your ass, and I swear to God that better be in an enticing way.”
She had no power at all. And she had to do it. Her fingertips trembled as she removed her clothes. She hated that he could see her crying. Her tears were ones of humiliation, impossible to stop. They were a different temperature than other tears—and they seemed hot as they streamed down her cheeks. After her outer garments were removed, she took off her slip. What falls to its knees faster than silk?
? ? ?
HE CAME BACK AND APOLOGIZED to her the next day. She didn’t forgive him. She took out her old plan of the Snowflake Icicle Extravaganza from her pocket.
? ? ?
MCMAHON HAD SPENT so much money on her clothes, there was no reason she ought to show up in anything other than spectacular outfits. But after that night she somehow managed to put her clothes together in ways that made them look odd.
She wore a headband so low on her forehead that a great black feather went down to her nose and almost obscured her eyes. When someone said something peculiarly interesting, she would blow on the feather in order to get a clear-eyed view of them. As though she were blowing bangs out of her face.
Another time she was wearing a black velvet cape he had bought for her. She was holding it up over her face as if she were a vampire. Count Dracula.
Also, he could never tell when she was actually drunk because she would often pretend to be inebriated. She pretended to be three sheets to the wind, and it made everybody laugh. And then she would say the types of things that she always wanted to say but that she knew she shouldn’t, being a girl and all.
If he accused her of pretending to be drunk, she would claim that she had no idea what he was talking about. She would swear that she actually had been smashed, because she couldn’t for the life of her remember a thing that had happened.
That was especially infuriating. He couldn’t confront her about the things she had done. She would raise her hands to both sides and shrug.
Once she pretended to be drunk so she could act like a man. She started to flirt heavily with one of the girls. She held her finger under her nose, pretending it was a mustache.
“My darling, you are better than all the other girls. You are prettier than them all. It’s true. You are gold and they are all bronze. Watch out for all the other girls. They will be so jealous of you that they will want to stab you to death.”
All the men had laughed, but they were also a little alarmed. If Rose could see through them, perhaps every other woman could too. But then they decided that Rose was probably just a peculiar girl. And even though they suspected that she was very good in bed, and they had all fantasized about sleeping with her, they were rather relieved that it was McMahon and not them who had responsibility for this most unusual girl.
? ? ?
SHE WAS MAKING A CAKE in her hotel room. She had never made a cake before. She was doing it deliriously. She was whipping everything together violently. She dumped in a bag of flour and it blew up in her face. She crushed the eggs and tossed them in the bowl, shells and all. Then she poured in some milk and began to beat it all viciously.
“What in the world are you fucking doing?”
“I’m making a giant wedding cake.”
“Oh, I see. I see. You want me to divorce my wife and marry you. Is that it? If that’s it, I wish you would just have the courage to come out and say it.”
“No, that’s not it at all. It’s actually the exact opposite. You see, I never agreed to marry you. I just woke up one day and I was married.” She scooped up some imaginary icing with her finger. She held it out for him to come and suck it off. She gave a sickeningly sweet smile.
Her face was covered in white flour. There was no way in the world that McMahon would be able to hold on to this strange girl.
? ? ?
EVERYONE KEPT TRYING TO MAKE it clear to Rose that nobody really cared about what a girl had to say. She wasn’t supposed to have radical and clever ideas. She was just supposed to try to vaguely follow what men were on about. They were supposed to bounce ideas off her as if they were playing racquetball. It was a more or less pleasant way of speaking to one’s self.
It was important to be a little bit stupid as a woman. It was important not to feel proud of yourself. You were supposed to feel pride only when your husband did something. If you were talented, you ran the risk of making your husband feel bad about himself. So it was best to keep your talent in check. Or become talented at things that he didn’t like to do himself. So you could be his very adept assistant. But Rose couldn’t accept this.
? ? ?
OUTSIDE, THE SPARROWS HOPPED AROUND in the snow, looking for crumbs. They were the color of books whose pages had been ruined in a flood.
27
TWO MEN
ONE FAT, ONE THIN