“Ondine?”
“Yes.”
“Leave her alone with Sydney. You shouldn’t bother them now.”
“I wish I could figure it out, what got into everybody.” Son put his arm around her; she was like a bird in the crook of his arm. “What does it mean?” She closed her eyes.
“It means,” he said, talking into her hair, “that white folks and black folks should not sit down and eat together.”
“Oh, Son.” Jadine looked up at him and smiled a tiny smile.
“It’s true,” he said. “They should work together sometimes, but they should not eat together or live together or sleep together. Do any of those personal things in life.”
She put her head back into his shirt front. “What’ll we do now?”
“Sleep,” he said.
“I can’t sleep. It was so ugly. Did you see the faces?”
Son kissed her cheek, bending his neck down low.
“It’s true, isn’t it? She stuck pins into Michael, and Ondine knew it and didn’t tell anybody all this time. Why didn’t she tell somebody?”
“She’s a good servant, I guess, or maybe she didn’t want to lose her job.” He kissed the other cheek.
“I always wondered why she hated Margaret so. Every time she could she would jab at her.”
“Sleep,” he said, and kissed her eyelids. “You need sleep.”
“Will you sleep with me?” she asked.
“I will,” he said.
“I mean really sleep. I’m not up to anything else.”
“I’ll sleep.”
“You sure? It was terrible, Son. Terrible. I don’t want to think about it, but I know I will and I don’t want to do it alone.”
“I know. I’ll stay with you. You sleep and I’ll watch you.”
Jadine stepped back from him. “Oh, the hell with it. You won’t. You’ll start something and I’m not up to it.”
“Relax. Stop imagining things. You want somebody to be with tonight, so I’ll do it. Don’t complicate it.”
“You start something and I’ll throw you out.”
“All right. Take off your dress and get in the bed.”
Jadine folded her arms behind her and unzipped the top part of her dress. He reached behind her and pulled it the rest of the way down. Jadine stepped out of it and sat down on the bed. “No foolishness, Son. I’m serious.” Her voice sounded small and tired.
“So am I,” he said, and began unbuttoning his shirt. Jadine sat on the bed and watched him. Then, for the first time, she saw his huge hands. One hand alone was big enough for two. A finger spread that could reach from hither to yon. The first time she had been aware of his hands they were clasped over his head under Sydney’s gun, so she had not really seen them. The second time was at the beach when he touched the bottom of her foot with one finger. She had not looked then either, only felt that fingerprint in the arch of her sole. Now she could not help looking, seeing those hands large enough to sit down in. Large enough to hold your whole head. Large enough, maybe, to put your whole self into.
“I hope you are serious,” she said. She left her panties on and got under the sheet. Son undressed completely and Jadine shot him a quick look to see if he had an erection.
“Look at you,” she said. “You’re going to meddle me and all I want is rest.”
“Be quiet,” he said. “I’m not meddling you. I can’t control that, but I can control whether I meddle you.” He walked to the bed and got in next to her.
“Well, how am I supposed to sleep with you taking up half the sheet in that tent?”
“Don’t think about it and it’ll go away.”
“I’ll bet. You sound like a character in those blue comics.”
“Hush.”
Jadine turned round on her stomach and then her side, with her back to him. After a silence during which she listened for but could not hear his breathing, she said, “Have you slept with anybody since you jumped ship?”
“Yes.”
“You have?” She raised her head. “Who? I mean where?”
“In town.”
“Oh
“Can’t remember her name.”
“Men. Why can’t you remember her name? Didn’t Yardman tell you her name?”
