Stories by Doris Lessing-第5章

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when　they　are　courting。　they　kiss　you　a　lot　and　they　make　pliments。　but　when　you　are　married　you　are　just　his　wife。”

the　summer　mary　went　to　ándros；　demetrios　courted　her　with　flowers　and　scented　soaps　and　chocolates；　and　he　said　she　was　beautiful　and　he　had　never　known　anything　like　her。　he　kissed　her　in　the　moonlight；　and　one　night　he　even　covered　her　hands　with　kisses　and　hot　tears；　too。　mary　knew　this　was　the　most　wonderful　thing　that　had　ever　happened　to　her　or　probably　would　happen。　it　made　her　uneasy　that　this　was　so。　what　was　demetrios；　then？　who　did　he　think　he　was—was　her　secret　feeling。　and　she　watched　him　while　he　was　asleep；　thinking；　but　why？　but　she　often　remembered；　too；　how　he　had　been　then；　that　summer；　three　years　ago。　now　he　was　as　sensible　as　any　englishman。　like　tom；　about　whom　helen　sighed；　though　smiling；　saying　it　was　lucky　tom　liked　his　fun　in　bed；　because　otherwise　she’d　think　he　didn’t　love　her。

a　likely　story；　thinks　mary；　who　wonders　why　helen　said　yes　to　tom。　he　was　all　right；　not　bad…looking。　“he　makes　me　laugh；”　says　helen。　but　surely　she　must　sometimes　find　him　boring？

but　did　dmitri　still　love　mary？

that　night；　when　he　rolled　toward　her　in　bed；　she　said；　“no；　i　don’t　feel　like　it；”　trying　to　make　herself　sound　like　helen　when　she　was　teasing　and　taunting；　but　she　knew　she　had　not　succeeded。　she　had　never　said　no　before：　she　liked　her　fun　in　bed；　too。　he　was　as　surprised　as　if　she　had　said　she　wanted　a　divorce。　“what’s　wrong　with　you？”　he　demanded。　what　he　should　have　asked　was　“but　what　have　i　done？”　though　she　would　not　have　known　what　to　reply　if　he　had。　she　turned　her　back　on　him；　knowing　this　hurt　her　as　much　as　it　did　him：　she　could　feel　his　baffled；　hurt　glare　on　her　shoulders。　he　muttered　something　she　was　glad　she　had　not　heard。　he　lay　awake　and　she　did；　too；　but　pretended　to　be　asleep。

next　morning　he　kept　sighing　and　giving　her　hard　accusing　looks。　it　happened　that　it　was　saturday；　and　that　night　the　two　couples　went　to　drink　in　the　garden　of　a　pub；　and　then　had　dinner　at　the　restaurant　where　dmitri　was　a　waiter；　but　it　was　his　night　off。　the　women　sometimes　worked　there　as　waitresses　when　they　needed　a　bit　extra　for　the　housekeeping。　everyone　knew　them；　people　waved　or　called　greetings　or　came　to　admire　the　baby　asleep　in　the　pram。　mary　saw　how　helen　hung　on　tom’s　arm　and　knew　they　were　going　to　make　love　the　minute　they　got　home。　when　demetrios　and　mary　got　home　he　said　to　her；　“i　hope　you　aren’t　going　to　not　feel　like　it　tonight。”　he　was　clumsy　in　his　sarcasm；　and　that　made　it　easy　for　her　to　say；　“i　might　or　i　might　not；”　but　in　bed　he　at　once　attacked　her；　as　she　tried　to　plain　to　herself；　but　it　was　no　good　saying　she　didn’t　feel　like　it　when　it　was　evident　to　both　of　them　that　she　did。　“when　are　you　going　to　give　me　a　kid？”　he　said　afterward；　and　he　was　doing　something　she　always　found　frightening　and　exciting：　he　was　sliding　her　wedding　ring　around　and　around　her　finger；　as　if　he　were　thinking　of　throwing　it　away。　“i’ll　see；”　she　said；　knowing　she　had　never　provoked　him　like　this　before。　then　she　found　herself　being　raped。　there　was　no　other　word　for　it。　she　was　all　slippery　from　the　recent　sex；　so　he　could　not　know　she　was　thrilled　and　quite　dissolved　and　could　easily　have　said　then　and　there；　“yes；　all　right　about　the　baby；”　if　he　had　not　been　groaning　into　her　ear；　“you　bitch；　i　want　a　baby。　now；　not　in　ten　years。”

next　morning　she　did　not　say　one　word　at　breakfast。　he　didn’t　notice。　he　was　taking　his　time　with　the　toast　and　the　jam　and　the　coffee：　he　didn’t　have　to　be　at　the　restaurant　until　eleven。　this　was　the　best　part　of　their　day；　the　hours　before　he　went　to　work。　they　talked　or　didn’t　talk；　and　read　the　paper；　and　sometimes　went　back　to　bed。　she　knew　that　when　the　baby　came　their　mornings　would　never　be　like　this　again。　she　had　told　him　so；　and　he　had　said；　“and　so　what。”　this　made　her　feel　he　didn’t　love　her。　it　was　not　until　the　end　of　this　breakfast　that　he　realized　her　silence　was　meant；　and　he　lifted　his　head　and　looked　at　her；　long　and　hard；　and　she　looked　coldly　back。　and　then　she　went　on　with　it；　using　the　unblinking　stare　she　had　practiced　before　the　mirror。　“what　the　hell？”　he　said。　“what　。　。　。　？”　she　said　nothing　but　sat　in　front　of　him　and　stared。　it　was　driving　him　wild；　she　could　see；　and　secretly　she　was　excited；　she　was　thrilled；　and　she　answered　not　one　word　while　he　went　on　exclaiming　and　accusing　and　asking　what　the　hell　she　thought　she　was　doing；　and　then　he　shouted　“bitch！”　at　her　and　went　off　to　work。

mary　sat　with　helen　outside　a　pub；　in　the　sun；　with　the　baby　in　the　pram　between　them；　and　mary　thought；　i　don’t　really　mind　a　baby；　i　suppose。　i’ll　leave　off　the　pill　and　see　what　happens。　but　i’m　not　going　to　tell　dmitri；　not　yet。　and　i’m　not　going　to　give　in　to　the　baby。

“how　long　do　you　keep　it　up？”　she　asked；　trying　to　sound　casual；　but　helen　at　once　understood　and　said；　“oh；　it’s　not　much—i　just　like　to　see　how　long　i　can　keep　it　up。　because　i　want　to　give　in　and　i　don’t。”

why　did　helen　find　everything　so　easy？　she　was　talking　as　if　it　all　were　nothing；　just　a　joke。　why　don’t　i　find　things　easy？　mary　was　thinking　as　she　sat　silent　and　dismal；　looking　at　helen’s　long　thin　brown　legs　and　her　brown　thin　arms；　and　the　way　the　black　dress　was　on　her；　and　her　black　shining　hair　loose　on　her　shoulders。　that　dress　would　look　like　a　bunch　on　me。　。　。　。　the　baby　began　grizzling；　and　helen　picked　it　up；　no　trouble　at　all；　hardly　looking；　and　she　sang　some　greek　nursery　song　in　her　deep　sexy　voice。　the　baby　stopped　crying。　the　soft　little　head　was　inches　away　from　mary；　and　the　sweet　intimate　baby　smell　made　her　want　to　cry。　oh；　no；　she　thought；　oh；　no—but　helen　casually　handed　her　the　cuddlesome　bundle　and　said；　“i’m　going　to　the　toilet；”　and　off　she　strode；　with　the　black　linen　swinging　around　her。

mary　thought；　i　suppose　dmitri　will　sing　our　baby　greek　songs。　when　demetrios　and　helen　spoke　together　in　greek　mary　listened　and　she　wasn’t　thinking　of　the　kebabs　and　taramasalata　and　the　retsina　and　all　that　stuff　they　had　right　here　in　london　but　of　the　sun　on　the　dark…blue　sea　and　the　hot　rocks　and　the　olive　trees　and　the　singing。　often　when　the　two　greeks　talked　together　tom　and　mary—neither　knew　more　than　a　few　words　of　greek—exchanged　smiles　acknowledging　that　these　people　they　had　married　were　sometimes　strangers　to　them。

mary　did　not　speak　to　demetrios　that　night　when　he　came　in；　as　usual；　late；　well　after　midnight；　but　she　sat　up　in　bed　and　stared　at　him　while　he　stumbled　around　the　room　and　swore　and　discarded　his　clothes　anyhow　and　then　flung　himself　on　the　bed　with　his　back　to　her。　she　longed　to　put　her　arms　around　him　from　behind　and　do　what　he　loved　her　to；　which　was　nibble　his　ear　and　then　kiss　and　bite　his　neck。　the　first　time　she　did　this　it　had　been　like　jumping　over　a　fence　into　the　dark　because　she　was　taking　the　initiative；　which　she　had　not　done—she　liked　being　the　one　who　said　yes—and　there　was　at　once　a　storm　of　sex。　but　there　wasn’t　always：　i’m　not　going　to　let　you　take　me　for　granted；　said　dmitri；　teasing　her—she　thought；　but　then　saw　this　was　his　delicacy　again；　for　he　was　sensitive；　surprising　her；　when　you’d　think　he　was　just　a　big　rough　noisy　man。　he　knew　she　would　be　shy；　afraid　he　would　think　she　was　asking　for　sex　instead　of　sometimes　just　a　cuddle；　and　that　was　why　he　kept　her　guessing。　she　had　seen　helen　giving　tom　little　touches　and　strokes　that　put　a　look　of　wonder　and　astonishment　on　his　face；　and　she　had　tried　them　out　on　dmitri—without　helen　she　would　never　have　thought　of　doing　anything　like　that。　now　she　lay　beside　dmitri；　rigid；　and　she　was　thinking　that　one　night　it　was　easy　to　put　one’s　arms　around　one’s　husband　and　then　be　happy　till　morning；　and　the　next　night　it　was　impossible　to　put　a　hand　to　touch　him；　let　alone　kisses　and　nibbles。

she　kept　the　silence　going　all　night；　for　she　did　not　sleep；　and　next　morning　through　breakfast。　and　now　she　was　frightened。　she　sat　staring　at　him　while　he　averted　his　eyes　but　sometimes　glanced　at　her　in　wonderment；　in　anger；　and　in　fear。　but　as　well　as　being　scared　she　was　dissatisfied；　and　her　dissatisfaction　with　everything　and　with　him；　like　an　accusation　of　him；　was　stronger　every　minute；　because　what　she　was　doing　was　feeding　it。　he　should　be　well；　he　should　be　kissing　her　hands　and　covering　them　with　tears　and　saying　he　was　sorry。

that　night　she　was　careful　to　seem　asleep　when　he　came　in　from　the　restaurant。　perhaps　he　will　kiss　me；　she　thought：　he　often　did；　when　she　was　asleep。　she　would　put　up　her　arms　and　pull　him　down　into　her。　but　he　didn’t　kiss　her。

next　morning　at　breakfast　she　could　see　herself　sitting　there；　with　her　staring　face　like　a　radar　dish　following　him　around　the　room。　he　was　not　looking　at　her；　though。　she　thought；　he’s　stupid。　just　because　i　haven’t　got　a　smile　on　my　face　and　i’m　not　speaking—but　i’m　just　the　same　inside；　aren’t　i？　meanwhile　he　was　stumbling　about　and　knocking　into　things。　he　looked　as　if　she　had　put　a　curse　on　him。　he　left　his　coffee　and　banged　straight　out。　next　morning　she　woke　before　he　did；　and　was　about　to　slide　quietly