Sexus (The Rosy Crucifixion, book 1)

Hoboken.»

«That's wonderful!» said Marcelle. She went lip to Mona and kissed her. She kissed me too.

«Don't they look sad?» said Ned.

«No,» said Marcelle, «I don't think they look sad. Why should they?» Ned poured out a drink for her. As he handed it to her he said:

«Have you any money?»

«Of course I have. Why? Do you want some?»

«No, but they need a little money. They're broke.»

«I'm so sorry,» said Marcelle. «Of course I have money. What can I give you—ten, twenty? Why certainly. And don't pay it back—it's a wedding present.»

Mona went over to her and took her hand. «That's awfully good of you, Marcelle. Thank you.»

«Then we'll take you to dinner,» I said, trying to express my appreciation.

«No, you're not,» said Marcelle. «We're going to make dinner right here. Let's settle down and get comfy. I don't believe in going out to celebrate.... Really, I'm very happy. I like to see. people get married—and stay married. Maybe I'm old-fashioned, but I believe in love. I want to stay in love all my life.»

«Marcelle,» I said, «where the devil do you hail from?»

«From Utah. Why?»

«I don't know, but I like you. You're refreshing. I like the way you hand the money out too.»

«You're joshing me!»

«No, I'm not. I'm serious. You're a good woman. You're too good for that bum over there. Why don't you marry him? Go on! It would scare the life out of him, but it might do him a lot of good.»

«Do you hear that?» she gurgled, turning to Ned. «Haven't I been telling you that all along? You're lazy, that's what. You don't know what a prize I am.»

At this point Mona had a fit of laughing. She laughed as though her sides would burst. «I can't help it,» she said. «It's too funny.»

«You're not drunk already, are you?» said Ned.

«No, it's not that,» said I. «She's relaxing. It's just a reaction. We put it off too long, that's what's the matter. Isn't that it, Mona?»

Another peal of laughter.

«Besides,» said I, «she's always embarrassed when I borrow money. Isn't that so, Mona?»

There was no answer—just another explosion.

Marcelle went over to her, spoke to her in a low, soothing voice. «You leave her to me,» she said.

«You two get drunk. We'll go out and get some food, won't we, Mona?»

«What made her so hysterical?» said Ned, after the two had left.

«Search me,» I said. «She's not used to getting married, I guess.»

«Listen,» said Ned, «what ever made you do it? Wasn't it a little impetuous?»

«You sit down,» I said. «I'm going to talk to you. You're not too drunk to follow me, are you?»

«You're not going to give me a lecture, are you?» he said, looking a little sheepish.

«I'm going to talk turkey to you. Now listen to me.... We just got married, didn't we? You think it's a mistake, eh? Let me tell you this.... I never did a better thing in my life. I love her. I love her enough to do anything she asks of me. If she asked me to cut your throat... if I thought that would make her happy... I'd do it. Why was she laughing so hysterically? You poor bugger you, I don't know what's the matter with you. You don't feel any more. You're just trying to protect yourself. Well, I don't want to protect myself. I want to do foolish things, little things, ordinary things, anything and everything that would make a woman happy. Can you understand that? You, and Ulric too, thought it quite a joke, this love business. Henry would never get married again. Oh no! Just an infatuation. It would wear off after a time. That was how you looked at it. Well, you were wrong. What I feel for her is so damned big I don't know how to express it. She's out in the street now, Mona. She could be run over by a truck. Anything could happen. I tremble when I think what it would do to me, to hear that something had happened to her. I think I'd become a stark, raving lunatic. I'd kill you right off the bat, that's the first thing I'd do... You don't know what it means to love that way, do you? You think only of the same face for breakfast every day. I think how wonderful her face is, how it changes every minute. I never see her twice the same way. I see only an infinity of adoration. That's a good word for you—adoration. I bet you've never used it. Now we're getting somewhere.... I adore her. I'll say it again. I adore her! Jesus, it's wonderful to say that. I adore her and I prostrate myself at her feet. I worship her. I say my prayers to her. I venerate her.... How do you like that? You never thought, when I first brought her up here, that I was going to talk this way some day, did you? Yet I warned you both. I told you something had happened. You laughed. You thought you knew better. Well, you know nothing, neither of you. You don't know who I am or where I came from. You see only what I show you. You never look under my vest. If I laugh you think I'm gay. You don't know that when I laugh so heartily sometimes I'm on the verge of despair. At least it used to be so. Not any more. When I laugh now I'm laughing, not weeping inside and laughing outside. I'm whole again. All one piece. A man in love. A man who got married of his own free will. A man who was never really married before. A man who knew women, but not love.... Now I'll sing for you. Or recite, if you like. What do you want? Just name it and you'll have it.... Listen, when she comes back—and God, just to know that she will come back, that she didn't walk out of that door and disappear—when she comes back I want you to be gay... I want you to be naturally gay. Say nice things to her... good things... things you mean... things you find it hard to say usually. Promise her things. Tell her you'll buy her a wedding gift. Tell her you hope she'll have children. Lie to her, if you must. But make her happy. Don't let her laugh that way again, do you hear me? I don't want to hear her laugh like that...never! You laugh, you bastard! Play the clown, play the idiot. But let her believe that you think everything is fine... fine and dandy... and that it will last forever....»

I paused a moment for breath and took another swallow of gin. Ned was watching me with mouth wide open.

«Go on!» he said, «keep it up!» «You like it, do you?»

«It's marvelous,» he said. «Real passion there. I'd give anything to be able to get worked up to that pitch... Go ahead, say anything you want. Don't be afraid of hurting my feelings. I'm nobody....»

«For God's sake, don't talk like that—you take the steam out of me. I'm not putting on an act... I'm serious.»

«I know you are—that's why I say go ahead! People don't talk this way any more... leastways not the people I know.»

He rose to his feet, slipped an arm in mine, and gave me that charming Klieg-light smile of his. His eyes were big and liquid; the eyelids were like chipped saucers. It was amazing what an illusion of warmth and understanding he could give. I wondered for a moment if I had underestimated him. Nobody should be spurned or rejected who gives even the illusion of feeling. How could I tell what struggles he had made, and was still making perhaps, to rise to the surface? What right had I to judge him —or anybody? If people smile at you, take your arm, give off a glow, it must be that there is something in them which responds. Nobody is altogether dead.

«Don't worry about what I think,» he was saying in that rich, pastoral voice. «I only wish Ulric were here... he would appreciate it even more than I.»

«For Christ's sake, don't say that, Ned! One doesn't want appreciation... one wants a response. To tell you the truth, I don't know what I want of you, or of anybody, for that matter. I want more than I get, that's all I know. I want you to step out of your skin. I want everybody to strip down, not just to the flesh, but to the soul. Sometimes I get so hungry, so rapacious, that I could eat people up. I can't wait for them to tell me things... how they feel... what they want... and so on. I want to chew them alive... find out for myself... quick, all at once. Listen...»

I picked up a drawing of Ulric's that was lying on his table. «See this? Now supposing I ate it?» I began to chew the paper.

«Jesus, Henry, don't do that! He's been working on that for the last three days. That's a job.» He tore the drawing from my hand.

«All right,» I said. «Give me something else then. Give me a coat... anything. Here, give me your hand!» I made a grab for his hand and raised it to my mouth. He pulled it away violently.

«You're going nuts,» he said. «Listen, hold your horses. The girls will be back soon... then you can have real