an old movie, frayed, a woman, bent over from work, bent over the
tub of laundry, bent over scrubbing the floor, that bitter grimace,
stony, silent, that penny for candy, nothing of her in this newer life,
almost 40 and she had found her place.
her man was rich and famous, thank God for that, a writer,
nothing of her mother in that, her man was distinguished and handsome. nothing of her mother there.
he was the closest friend of the man she had loved and would
always love, he was the lover of the man she had loved and would
always love, nothing of her mother in that.
and now she was by this famous mans side, now she went to the
theatre with him, to parties, took long walks, now she was carrying
his child, his little Che.
she touched herself, she was real, this, this was real, she would
have this little Che and she would continue to be real, now she would
never be her mother.
their agreement had been simple, he was getting older, he was rich
and famous, he had no son. she would have his son. he would pay for
it and for her. each year she would have a certain amount of. money
for herself, he would supervise the upbringing and education of his
son. he would make the decisions for his son. she would take care of
his son in his home, if she wanted to leave, she would not take his son
with her.
if a daughter were bom, he would give her a large lump sum of
money and she would raise the girl on her own. perhaps he would
continue to be generous.
for the 9 months of pregnancy he took care of her. he told her what
to eat and where to walk, he told her when to sleep and what to wear,
she vacationed on his farm, and in the city they were constant companions. he had many male lovers but she was the mother of his son.
this was her pride, this swelling in her gut. this was her safety, her
freedom, this swelling had bought her a place.
he was arrogant and self-centered, sometimes she recoiled just
from the memory of him. no, calm, smile, remember, no mistakes.
they did not sleep together now. they had been together only to impregnate her. it had been difficult, that time of coupling, at first her body had been a curiosity to him and he would touch it and feel it as
if it were a strange fruit or vegetable, he would force his way in only
to ejaculate, only to empty himself into her like target shooting.
and then, finally—there was a God—he had made his mark, he
had hit the target.
she had tried at first to interest him in their coupling, she had
stroked his face and his body, he had liked that, to lie there, a king
tended to by his consort.
he had wanted to see her do it with a woman, he had liked that, she
had done it in the manner of putting down a deposit on an item she
wanted very much, for him. to acquire him. as if she had saved up
the pennies to make the deposit on the coat that would save her from
winters cold.
