Why are they together and what does she see in him?
Why are they together and what does she see in him?
Well, it started when they got drunk and she slept with him by mistake. No one would have expected them to sleep together. She was very pretty, with very green eyes that gleamed like a jealous mother of pearl. She was also very smart and had read a lot of books, which she could introduce into any conversation intelligently. Her references always fell in just the right place. She didn’t bring them up to sound clever, but placed them purposefully into her speech as if Nabokov and traffic wardens always belonged next to each other on any library shelf, as if they had been numbered just so in the Dewey Decimal of intuition. Anyone who heard her talk wondered why they had never associated them before.
She had got drunk and he had walked her home, and she had fucked him because when she was drunk she really enjoyed fucking. Ordinarily she would take care of her body with a quiet dignity, but when she was drunk she would accede responsibility like an exhausted mother hustling children into the garden to amuse themselves. Like the children, her body would come home grubby and tired, full of the adventures of freedom. In the mornings, she would pick up her responsibility once more.
When they woke up in bed, she felt a little bad. At this point, she didn’t expect that they were going to end up together. She presumed that they would have some coffee and not talk too much, because he was an awkward boy and would be more so in his hangover. Then she would see him to the door and never phone him, and he would feel bad because the sex had been magnificent. He would wonder how she could have such magnificent sex with him and then never see him again. If it were up to him, they would write a book together on the perfect fuck, hold evening classes, chronicle their incomprehensibly perfect fucking in a column in the Saturday supplements. After that night, he believed they fit together like pornographic Lego bricks.
He got up and went to make breakfast. The kitchen was very cold and he hadn’t dressed properly yet, he stood in just a t-shirt, shivering a little. The toaster was broken, so he made toast using the grill instead. It took a long time. She waited in bed, worried that one of her flatmates would wake up and see him standing in the too-small shirt in the kitchen. He would get embarrassed, and when he was embarrassed he stuttered terribly, as if all his words had been plucked out and replaced with newspaper coupons. It would ruin the morning. Possibly the entire day.
He came back to bed with the toast he had prepared, lovingly, under the slow grill. He handed it to her as if it was a cupcake covered with candles on a birthday morning. Suddenly, she didn’t know how to react. She had lived through many interesting experiences in her life, but she had never had a man make her toast underneath a grill before because the toaster was broken. She had no idea what to say to a man who would do such a thing, how to repay such a quiet act of kindness. He looked at her with hot butter and expectancy.
That is why they are together now, even though she has very green eyes and knows how to talk about Faulkner.
Well, it started when they got drunk and she slept with him by mistake. No one would have expected them to sleep together. She was very pretty, with very green eyes that gleamed like a jealous mother of pearl. She was also very smart and had read a lot of books, which she could introduce into any conversation intelligently. Her references always fell in just the right place. She didn’t bring them up to sound clever, but placed them purposefully into her speech as if Nabokov and traffic wardens always belonged next to each other on any library shelf, as if they had been numbered just so in the Dewey Decimal of intuition. Anyone who heard her talk wondered why they had never associated them before.
She had got drunk and he had walked her home, and she had fucked him because when she was drunk she really enjoyed fucking. Ordinarily she would take care of her body with a quiet dignity, but when she was drunk she would accede responsibility like an exhausted mother hustling children into the garden to amuse themselves. Like the children, her body would come home grubby and tired, full of the adventures of freedom. In the mornings, she would pick up her responsibility once more.
When they woke up in bed, she felt a little bad. At this point, she didn’t expect that they were going to end up together. She presumed that they would have some coffee and not talk too much, because he was an awkward boy and would be more so in his hangover. Then she would see him to the door and never phone him, and he would feel bad because the sex had been magnificent. He would wonder how she could have such magnificent sex with him and then never see him again. If it were up to him, they would write a book together on the perfect fuck, hold evening classes, chronicle their incomprehensibly perfect fucking in a column in the Saturday supplements. After that night, he believed they fit together like pornographic Lego bricks.
He got up and went to make breakfast. The kitchen was very cold and he hadn’t dressed properly yet, he stood in just a t-shirt, shivering a little. The toaster was broken, so he made toast using the grill instead. It took a long time. She waited in bed, worried that one of her flatmates would wake up and see him standing in the too-small shirt in the kitchen. He would get embarrassed, and when he was embarrassed he stuttered terribly, as if all his words had been plucked out and replaced with newspaper coupons. It would ruin the morning. Possibly the entire day.
He came back to bed with the toast he had prepared, lovingly, under the slow grill. He handed it to her as if it was a cupcake covered with candles on a birthday morning. Suddenly, she didn’t know how to react. She had lived through many interesting experiences in her life, but she had never had a man make her toast underneath a grill before because the toaster was broken. She had no idea what to say to a man who would do such a thing, how to repay such a quiet act of kindness. He looked at her with hot butter and expectancy.
That is why they are together now, even though she has very green eyes and knows how to talk about Faulkner.
posted by Jane at 5:02 pm
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