I learned about her, I learned those small, intimate things that are idiomatic, but revealing—the silly, dumb things. She rarely used makeup, but carried five kinds of shampoo. She rarely became ill, but was subject to ingrown toenails. She insisted on sleeping on the right side of the bed and always seemed to get up an hour before I did. She insisted on carrying certain clothes with her everywhere, even though we had wardrobes in houses all over the world. If we were scheduled to meet someone of importance or prominence she read up on them religiously, but always seemed to give that person the impression she reacted to him or her as a person, not as a shah or a crown prince or a Beaux Arts prizewinner.
She had everything she wanted, or so I thought, which was probably my first mistake.
3
I wanted Madelon and I got her. Getting a woman I wanted was not all that difficult. Standing on my money and fame, I was very tall. Sometimes I wondered how well I might do as a lover without money, but I was too lazy to try.
I wanted Madelon because she was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen, and the least boring. Sooner or later all women bored me, and most men. When there are no surprises even the most attractive people grow stale. Madelon may have aroused a great variety of emotions in me, from love to hate, at times, but she never bored me and boredom is the greatest sin. Even those who
But Madelon was beautiful inside as well as out, and I had had my fill of beautiful flesh and gargoyle minds.
It wasn’t so much that I “got” Madelon as that I married her. I attracted her, our sex life was outstanding, and my wealth was exactly the convenience she needed. My money was
I took her to a concert by a young synthecizor musician whose career one of my foundations was sponsoring. Afterwards we lay on a fur-covered liquibed under the one-way glass dome of my New York apartment and watched the lights in the towers and the flying insect dots of helos.
“Are all musicians as arrogant as that electronic music composer who cornered you in the foyer?” Madelon asked.
“No, thank god. But when you are convinced you have conceived something the world must experience, you are anxious to have it presented.”
“But he was
“Everyone has one,” I said, my fingertips on her flesh. “People are certain I have a very big one because of all the art and events I assist. But I want the art to come into existence, not to further my own fame or ego.”
“Oh, Brian,” she said, flipping over and pressing her voluptuous body to mine. “Sometimes you just modest yourself right out the back door!”
I didn’t reply. People never understand. She would, I hoped, in time. I wanted to midwife creativity, not scratch my ego onto the base of greatness.
I took a deep breath and said it. “Why don’t we get married?”
Her eyes opened wide in astonishment.
I nodded and she seemed amused. “What is the point of that?”
she asked. “If I should find I am in that small percentage for whom the shots don’t work, I can always abort, or you could sign on as the father. There’s no need for marriage, Brian.”
“What about your family?” I asked. “From what you tell me your father is an old-fashioned tiger.”
“He doesn’t tell me what to do, even when he wants to.”
“Well, let’s just say he might like me better if we were married.”
“I didn’t think you sought anyone’s approval for anything.”
“I’m a very self-indulgent person,” I said. “I do only what I want to do. I want to go to Mars some day and I shall. I might have to pass on the stars, however. But right now I want us to be married, legally, and in front of whoever.”
