because I didn’t know about it and I liked it; and I would stay;
and I would go with him. I didn’t talk much because you don’t
talk to men even if they seem nice; you can never know if they
will mind or not but usually they will mind. But he asked me
things. He told me some things, hard things, about his life,
and time in jail, and troubles; and he asked me some things,
easy things, about what I did that day, or what I thought, or i f I
liked something, or how I felt, or if something felt good, or i f I
was happy, or i f l liked him. He was my lover I guess, not
really my boyfriend, because I never knew i f l should go to the
bar or not but I would and then w e’d make love and when we
made love he was a sweet man with kisses and soft talk into
sunrise and he’d hold me after and he’d touch me. Sometimes
he took me to visit people, his friends, and I was too shy to say
anything but I thought it might mean he liked me or trusted
me or had some pride in me or felt right about me and they
asked me things too and tried to talk with me. Eldridge would
come into the bar and get drinks and say something but always
something cutting or mean so I didn’t-know what to say or do
because I didn’t know i f l was supposed to be his friend or not;
only that Arthur said he loved him. I would ask him about his
paintings but he would look away. I went to the bar for a long
time, maybe three months, and I went with Arthur to where
he slept in the bed in the living room; and w e’d kiss, face to
face, and the light would come up. I learned to love dawn and
the long, slow coming o f the light. One night I went to the bar
and Arthur wasn’t nice anymore. He brought dinner to me
and he brought beer but he wouldn’t look at me or talk to me
and his face was different, with deep anger or pain or I didn’t
know what because I don’t know how to know what people
feel or think. A lot o f time went by and then I thought I should
go away and not come back but he sat down, it was a Saturday
night, early in the night because he usually worked Saturdays
until four a. m. but now it was only ten at night and it was
busy, very busy, so it wasn’t easy for him to sit down; and he
said his sister, an older sister, Caroline, was in the hospital,
and she had brought him up, and she had cancer, and she had
had cancer for a long time but now it seemed she was dying,
now, tonight, and he was hurting so bad, he was in bad grief,
sad and angry and fucked up, and he had to go to the hospital
right now and it was far away up town and it would take most
o f the night and probably she would die tonight; and would I
go to his place, he would take me there to make sure I got there
safe, and would I wait for him there— he knew I might not
want to and it was a lot to ask, but would I? And I said I was
sorry about his sister and I would go there and I would wait for
