not fathom.
When I glanced momentarily at him, I saw a sad, almost wistful expression on his face. He seemed to me then to be more vulnerable
than either he or I had ever imagined.
That night, I was lying in bed when, immediately after he had said his prayers, he slipped into my room. This time, he approached
my bed and lifted me into his arms and, after pussy-catting my cheek, he kissed me passionately.
This was a soul kiss. His tongue sharpened itself on my upper teeth before exploring the smooth warm cave of my mouth, as
though he were desperate to find a refuge in me. Propped up on my pillow, I tried to move backward but he wouldn’t let me.
What stunned me was the realization that he had done this before. No one could kiss like that without practice.
My God
, I thought,
what if he isn’t the incorruptible man I imagined but the horned Goat of Puck Fair
?
But he was a goddamn bishop; where had he learned all this?
I felt his whole body trembling and shuddering next to mine, but I could not respond adequately because he pinned me so tight
and my mind was in a whirl. After a minimum of two minutes, he let me come up for air.
In retrospect, my silence helped me. Saying yes or no would have put me in control by encouraging or denying him. My breathlessness
told in my favor. He had no one to blame but himself. If he had broken a commandment, he had used his own hammer.
Then, abruptly, without a word, without an explanation or an apology, he was gone.
For a long time after, my mind was in turmoil. It struck me that my Eamonn found it hard to say sorry. I did not mind that,
for he may have been suffering from embarrassment.
I was relieved that he was not after all a sun, glowing and pure all round, but, like me, a moon with a dark side. The moon
has always fascinated me because it is two-faced. If I’m ever reincarnated, I’ll come back as the moon.
My body ached to follow Eamonn into his room, to introduce the black side of me to the black side of him. In other words,
I wanted, as was natural, to say, “Where do we go from here?”
But I didn’t want to blow it. Play this cool, Annie Murphy. He is far too precious to lose.
I switched off my bedside lamp and both sides of me, black and white, went into a quiet, restful sleep.
Chapter Six
A FEW DAYS PASSED. I said nothing, intimated nothing about what had happened. He may have been testing me to see if I could
keep a secret. I knew I could. As a doctor’s daughter, I was often the first to know and the last to tell of his patients’
ailments. But could Eamonn?
One morning, while Mary was out shopping, I saw him off on a three-day trip abroad. I dusted a pollen-like trace of dandruff
from his shoulders, complimented him on looking so smart. He kissed me at the front door but not passionately. More like a
man going to the office.
“Take care,” I said, though he was already out of earshot and, with a cheery wave, he drove off in a cloud of dust.
The next few days I walked the white beach at Inch, watching the breakers and soaking up the May sunshine. I was more buoyant
than I had ever been. Everything around me was precious. I could not bear to step on a crab or a sandfly for fear of hurting
or killing it.
For days, I had caught myself looking with amazement at the stars, sunrise, the sea, a poplar tree, an ant, and felt what
the author of Genesis must have felt when he said simply in God’s name of everything freshly created, “It was good.”
I had an awesome sensation that the relationship between Eamonn and me had been planned before time began. Is this what philosophers
mean by eternity? Did this entrancing idea, more a feeling, originate in an overwhelming sense that something uniquely good
in our lives was intended from the beginning? Yes, this communion between Eamonn and me was meant to be before the Creator
said, “Let there be light.”
Without searching for it and with the suddenness of forked
When I glanced momentarily at him, I saw a sad, almost wistful expression on his face. He seemed to me then to be more vulnerable
than either he or I had ever imagined.
That night, I was lying in bed when, immediately after he had said his prayers, he slipped into my room. This time, he approached
my bed and lifted me into his arms and, after pussy-catting my cheek, he kissed me passionately.
This was a soul kiss. His tongue sharpened itself on my upper teeth before exploring the smooth warm cave of my mouth, as
though he were desperate to find a refuge in me. Propped up on my pillow, I tried to move backward but he wouldn’t let me.
What stunned me was the realization that he had done this before. No one could kiss like that without practice.
My God
, I thought,
what if he isn’t the incorruptible man I imagined but the horned Goat of Puck Fair
?
But he was a goddamn bishop; where had he learned all this?
I felt his whole body trembling and shuddering next to mine, but I could not respond adequately because he pinned me so tight
and my mind was in a whirl. After a minimum of two minutes, he let me come up for air.
In retrospect, my silence helped me. Saying yes or no would have put me in control by encouraging or denying him. My breathlessness
told in my favor. He had no one to blame but himself. If he had broken a commandment, he had used his own hammer.
Then, abruptly, without a word, without an explanation or an apology, he was gone.
For a long time after, my mind was in turmoil. It struck me that my Eamonn found it hard to say sorry. I did not mind that,
for he may have been suffering from embarrassment.
I was relieved that he was not after all a sun, glowing and pure all round, but, like me, a moon with a dark side. The moon
has always fascinated me because it is two-faced. If I’m ever reincarnated, I’ll come back as the moon.
My body ached to follow Eamonn into his room, to introduce the black side of me to the black side of him. In other words,
I wanted, as was natural, to say, “Where do we go from here?”
But I didn’t want to blow it. Play this cool, Annie Murphy. He is far too precious to lose.
I switched off my bedside lamp and both sides of me, black and white, went into a quiet, restful sleep.
Chapter Six
A FEW DAYS PASSED. I said nothing, intimated nothing about what had happened. He may have been testing me to see if I could
keep a secret. I knew I could. As a doctor’s daughter, I was often the first to know and the last to tell of his patients’
ailments. But could Eamonn?
One morning, while Mary was out shopping, I saw him off on a three-day trip abroad. I dusted a pollen-like trace of dandruff
from his shoulders, complimented him on looking so smart. He kissed me at the front door but not passionately. More like a
man going to the office.
“Take care,” I said, though he was already out of earshot and, with a cheery wave, he drove off in a cloud of dust.
The next few days I walked the white beach at Inch, watching the breakers and soaking up the May sunshine. I was more buoyant
than I had ever been. Everything around me was precious. I could not bear to step on a crab or a sandfly for fear of hurting
or killing it.
For days, I had caught myself looking with amazement at the stars, sunrise, the sea, a poplar tree, an ant, and felt what
the author of Genesis must have felt when he said simply in God’s name of everything freshly created, “It was good.”
I had an awesome sensation that the relationship between Eamonn and me had been planned before time began. Is this what philosophers
mean by eternity? Did this entrancing idea, more a feeling, originate in an overwhelming sense that something uniquely good
in our lives was intended from the beginning? Yes, this communion between Eamonn and me was meant to be before the Creator
said, “Let there be light.”
Without searching for it and with the suddenness of forked
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