refusing to have sex with a pagan.
At the bar full of locals we were crammed in jostling for drinks, then squeezed outside into a pen fenced off with a rope. I had the house red, downed three glasses quickly trying to get someplace else, to a dull sweet spot. Bought a couple for the Swedes and left them to head back. The river was still and black as tar and the lights along the bank reflected in fiery bursts of gold like there were bonfires in the water. I thought about calling Jessa, but the call involved too many numbers. Couldn’t wrap my brain around dialing. Wasn’t into articulation besides. In no hurry to resume the suffocation of my happy family, I stopped for another smoke by a harp-playing angel alongside a vendor whose wallets were placed in rows on a blanket in this ancient city thatnever stops bilking tourists. Enjoying his thrust and parry, lulled by it since I couldn’t understand a word, I leaned back against the iron grating and dozed.
The ash woke me, burning my finger. Looking around, reminding myself where the hell I was, the bridge now nearly deserted, I saw a young girl all in white. She twirled, and her dress, a gauzy thing, fanned and fluttered. Then she twirled again faster, spinning herself silly.
I believe in God and the afterlife, which makes me a sucker for ghostly visions. I know Snow was in the hotel room with Tay, but she was on that bridge too, beyond reach, the way she is always beyond reach, keeping her secrets, teasing us all.
Michael
I WAS UNFAITHFUL .
My loyalties were compromised not once but twice. I enjoyed it. I won’t lie. It was a nice nightcap, an even better wake-up. Lizzie climbed on top of me.
A hostage situation. I had no choice in the matter.
If you don’t answer the phone, Katarina, what do you expect?
My mind courted madness. Spun. Fantasy. Plot. Subplot. K picked up a man at the gym. Someone sweaty. Younger, buff, taller, with the physique (a formal word) of an Olympic swimmer, no, of Michelangelo’s
David
, how ironic and deliciously vengeful. With half the IQ. No wit. Less technique. More stamina. Less compelling.
Had a vision of K riding me the way Lizzie did. While Lizzie showered, I jerked off.
Then it crossed my mind that Kath—princess, slut, garden of unearthly delights—now had the upper hand.
Breakfast. Lizzie was excited about the buffet. “I’ll meet you there,” she said. From the bed I watched her dress. Critically. Herbreasts, sloping now, bottom-heavy. She wiggled as she adjusted them in the cups of her bra, and threw me a look, a half smile, enjoying my watching. Her waist was a memory, hidden in a crease in her sides, and her stomach, once flat, now pillowy. The lace thong she pulled on left her fleshy butt cheerfully exposed. She shook it at me. Pulled a T-shirt over her head and swore with frustration as she tugged on tight jeans. Her once gorgeous legs were getting meatier in the thighs.
She’ll order my cappuccino, she said, or do I prefer a latte? Hurry up, Michael, get up already. She’ll do a plate for me too. She was looking forward to mango. She was certain there would be fresh mango. She was happy. Solicitous. She looked out the window. “Not a cloud in sight,” she said.
As soon as she left, tried K. Again her phone kicked to voice mail. Fuck her.
Last night while Lizzie slept, I went into the hall. Called Tino’s. The woman said, “It’s not her night. Is this Mr. Shapner?”
“Yes.”
“I thought I recognized your voice. It’s Tessa, Tino’s wife. May I help you with a reservation?”
I made one. A random date a month ahead. For three. Why three? What three? I hung up. Then I thought,
K’s going to go to work tomorrow. She’ll see my reservation and think I’m never leaving Lizzie. I am full of shit.
I called back and canceled.
You have done your cruelest, Katarina. You have made me second-guess. Grovel. You have turned me into a girl.
I can bend the will of a woman, always could ever since thefirst
At the bar full of locals we were crammed in jostling for drinks, then squeezed outside into a pen fenced off with a rope. I had the house red, downed three glasses quickly trying to get someplace else, to a dull sweet spot. Bought a couple for the Swedes and left them to head back. The river was still and black as tar and the lights along the bank reflected in fiery bursts of gold like there were bonfires in the water. I thought about calling Jessa, but the call involved too many numbers. Couldn’t wrap my brain around dialing. Wasn’t into articulation besides. In no hurry to resume the suffocation of my happy family, I stopped for another smoke by a harp-playing angel alongside a vendor whose wallets were placed in rows on a blanket in this ancient city thatnever stops bilking tourists. Enjoying his thrust and parry, lulled by it since I couldn’t understand a word, I leaned back against the iron grating and dozed.
The ash woke me, burning my finger. Looking around, reminding myself where the hell I was, the bridge now nearly deserted, I saw a young girl all in white. She twirled, and her dress, a gauzy thing, fanned and fluttered. Then she twirled again faster, spinning herself silly.
I believe in God and the afterlife, which makes me a sucker for ghostly visions. I know Snow was in the hotel room with Tay, but she was on that bridge too, beyond reach, the way she is always beyond reach, keeping her secrets, teasing us all.
Michael
I WAS UNFAITHFUL .
My loyalties were compromised not once but twice. I enjoyed it. I won’t lie. It was a nice nightcap, an even better wake-up. Lizzie climbed on top of me.
A hostage situation. I had no choice in the matter.
If you don’t answer the phone, Katarina, what do you expect?
My mind courted madness. Spun. Fantasy. Plot. Subplot. K picked up a man at the gym. Someone sweaty. Younger, buff, taller, with the physique (a formal word) of an Olympic swimmer, no, of Michelangelo’s
David
, how ironic and deliciously vengeful. With half the IQ. No wit. Less technique. More stamina. Less compelling.
Had a vision of K riding me the way Lizzie did. While Lizzie showered, I jerked off.
Then it crossed my mind that Kath—princess, slut, garden of unearthly delights—now had the upper hand.
Breakfast. Lizzie was excited about the buffet. “I’ll meet you there,” she said. From the bed I watched her dress. Critically. Herbreasts, sloping now, bottom-heavy. She wiggled as she adjusted them in the cups of her bra, and threw me a look, a half smile, enjoying my watching. Her waist was a memory, hidden in a crease in her sides, and her stomach, once flat, now pillowy. The lace thong she pulled on left her fleshy butt cheerfully exposed. She shook it at me. Pulled a T-shirt over her head and swore with frustration as she tugged on tight jeans. Her once gorgeous legs were getting meatier in the thighs.
She’ll order my cappuccino, she said, or do I prefer a latte? Hurry up, Michael, get up already. She’ll do a plate for me too. She was looking forward to mango. She was certain there would be fresh mango. She was happy. Solicitous. She looked out the window. “Not a cloud in sight,” she said.
As soon as she left, tried K. Again her phone kicked to voice mail. Fuck her.
Last night while Lizzie slept, I went into the hall. Called Tino’s. The woman said, “It’s not her night. Is this Mr. Shapner?”
“Yes.”
“I thought I recognized your voice. It’s Tessa, Tino’s wife. May I help you with a reservation?”
I made one. A random date a month ahead. For three. Why three? What three? I hung up. Then I thought,
K’s going to go to work tomorrow. She’ll see my reservation and think I’m never leaving Lizzie. I am full of shit.
I called back and canceled.
You have done your cruelest, Katarina. You have made me second-guess. Grovel. You have turned me into a girl.
I can bend the will of a woman, always could ever since thefirst
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