Joseph Kanon - A Good German

Slowly. He covered her, resting above her on his arms, and she guided him in. He could feel the walls give way and forced himself to stop, letting it slide in slowly, a little at a time, so that it felt she were doing it, pulling him in deeper. When their bodies met, all the way in, she put her arms around him, holding his head down next to hers, and they lay still for a moment, listening to each other breathe. Then a slight movement, so small it seemed impossible it could cause the feeling that went through him, and he was determined now to make it last, not give in to it, because he wanted her with him. Slowly, like a dancer practicing steps, not going faster even when he heard her in his ear, her breath almost a pant. A long stroke in and out, as slow as a tease, then the short, steady movements inside again, one after another, so far in they seemed joined and suddenly he felt her rippling around him, not waiting anymore, and there was a gasp in his ear so that he knew she was coming, grabbing his back. He held still for a moment to make sure, her head turned away as her insides clutched him, an unmistakable spasm.

She turned her head back to kiss him, her breathing still ragged, opening her eyes. I see you. And when they kissed he started moving again, still slowly, because now there was no urgency, they were there, and he felt they would never have to stop if he didn’t go faster and they’d never have to let the feeling go. More. His face was in her hands now as she kissed him, his body still suspended over her, and he realized that she was moving faster, hurrying him, even wetter. “It’s all right,” she said, “it’s all right,” almost a sob, but smiling, freeing him to pleasure himself. Except that it was already everything he wanted, the intimacy, both of them there, and he kept moving the same way, not even aware anymore that his prick was filled with blood to bursting. Just keep moving. No end. He felt her hands on his buttocks, clasping him, pushing him in deeper because she was still moving too, something he hadn’t expected, rocking, and now he had to hold out because he heard little cries, could feel her wrapped around him, the feeling no longer individual, spreading over them both, so that when she came again, a series of shudders, it spurted out of him too and he saw that what he thought he wanted before wasn’t everything after all, this was everything, even as it went away.

He wasn’t aware of falling down next to her, his arm still around her, not even of his penis slipping out, only of her shoulders shaking beside him.

“Don’t cry,” he said, touching her.

“I’m not crying. I don’t know what it is. Nerves.”

“Nerves.”

“It’s so long—”

He ran his hand over her shoulder, feeling the shaking begin to subside. “I love you. You know that?”

She nodded, wiping her eyes. “I don’t know why. I do such terrible things. How can you love a person who does terrible things?”

Babbling. He continued stroking her shoulder.

“It must be your jokes,” he said softly.

“My jokes. You say I never make jokes.”

“Then I don’t know why.”

She smiled a little, then sniffed. “Is there a handkerchief?”

“In my pants.”

He watched her get up, languid, walk over to the pile of clothes, and take out his handkerchief and gently blow her nose, her body still flushed with patches of red, love marks. She stood for a minute, letting him look at her, then held up the pants.

“Do you want a cigarette? You always used to like a cigarette.”

“I left them downstairs. Never mind. Come here.”

She curled up next to him, her head on his chest.

“You didn’t notice the curtains were open.”

“No, I didn’t notice,” she said and even now made no move to cover up or try to draw the spread around her.

“Why did you—”

“When I saw you before,” she said easily. “So white. Like a boy.”

“A boy.”

“My lover,” she said, putting her hand on his chest. “I thought, I know him. I know him. He’s my lover.”

“Yes.”

“Maybe I can feel that again.” She turned her head to look at him. “How I was with you.”

The words went through him, a flush of well-being so complete that all he ever wanted to do was lie there, holding her and listening to the rain.

“It used to frighten me,” she said. “How it made me feel. I thought it was wrong to feel that way. I wanted to have a normal life. Be a good woman. I was raised for that.”

“No,” he said, stroking her, “for this.”

“And now it’s all gone anyway, that life. It doesn’t matter anymore.” She put her head back, lying quietly, looking across his chest at the room. “What’s going to happen?” she said.

“We’ll go to America.”

“Germans are so popular there?” I he war s over.

“I don’t think for us. Even here, thec Americans look at you- What do they think we did?”

“Never mind them. Somewhere else, then, where nobody knows who we are. Africa,” he said, playing.

“Africa. What would you do there?”

“This. All day long. If it’s hot, we’ll close the shutters.”

“We can do this anywhere.”

“That’s the idea,” he said, pulling her up and kissing her.

She hung over him, her hair falling around his face. “Somewhere new,” she said.

“That’s right.” He ran his hand over her buttocks. “No more terrible things.”

Her face clouded and she turned away, facing the wall. “There’s no place like that.”

“Yes, there is.” He kissed her shoulder. “You’ll forget.”

“I can’t,” she said, then turned back to face him. “I killed him. Do you know what that means? I can’t forget the blood. It was everywhere, in my hair—”

“Ssh,” he said, then put his hand up to stroke her head. “It’s not there anymore. It’s gone.”

“But to kill somebody—”

“You had to.”

“No. It was finished. I couldn’t stop him from that. Then I killed him anyway. With his gun, while he was still on me. Killed him. And I didn’t have to. You think I’m the same person.” She lowered her head. “I wanted to be. Pretending to look like before. But it’s not before.”

“No, it’s now. Lena, listen to me. He raped you. He might have killed you. We all had to do terrible things in the war.”

“Did you?”

“Yes.”

“What things?”

He took her face between his hands and looked straight at her. “I forget.”

“How can you forget?”

“Because I found you again. I forget the rest.”

She looked away. “You mean you want me to.”

“You will. We’re going to be happy. Isn’t that what you want?”

She smiled a little.

“We’ll start here.” He turned her face and began kissing it, the cheek, then the lips, drawing a map of their place. “We’ve already started. You forget everything when you make love. That’s why they invented it.”

Finally they drifted off, not quite asleep but hazy, like the vapor that hung outside after the rain. They were still lying there, holding each other, when he heard a door close, footsteps next door, the world coming back.

“We should get dressed,” she said.

“No, wait a little,” he said, his arm around her.

“I have to wash,” she said, but she didn’t move either, content to lie there, still drifting, until they heard the quick knock on the door. “Oh,” she said, flipping the end of the spread up to cover them, only halfway there when Liz opened the door and stopped in surprise, eyes wide with embarrassment.

“Oh, sorry,” she said, a gulp, ducking away and closing the door behind her.

“My god,” Lena said, swinging out of bed, grabbing clothes and holding them up in a bunch. “You don’t lock the door?”