Russell Hoban - Linger Awhile

8 January 2004. I stood there and watched her go out of the door; I couldn’t think of anything useful to do. All kinds of feelings were churning around inside me. Blood was a practical necessity for Justine. Mine had worked for her and I guessed that her reconstituted system would accept any type. What she was doing now was certainly the simplest and most direct way of getting what she needed; thinking about it, imagining her sinking her teeth into the neck of her first victim, excited me and filled me with a kind of perverse pride. I hoped she’d leave whomever she drank from enough blood to be going on with but I couldn’t help worrying a little about her ability to restrain herself.

While I waited for Justine to return I played back our brief history. Today was the 8th of January, so it was just over a week ago, on New Year’s Day, that I did a tiny Justine in a test tube. And it was on the 2nd of January that I began my preparations for the full-size primordial soup for the full-size woman. I googled for Port of London, and trawling eastward down the Thames on the website map I found TDG European Chemicals in Halfway Reach by Old Man’s Head. Names to conjure with. They put me on to Gainsford Drums in Walthamstow and Bob was my uncle. When the drum was delivered I stood looking at it for a while, thinking about what would come out of the soup.

The 6th of January was the big day. When I got to the point of zapping the soup I hesitated. What if nothing happened? This, after all, was the first moment of the rest of my life. What would my life be if this moment was a failure? The idea of Justine had got into my old man’s head and by now she was my without-which-nothing. ‘Please,’ I said as the 240-volt juice hit the soup, ‘be there!’

And she was there. I’d imagined her rising naked from the soup like Aphrodite but she was fully clothed in her El Paso costume. The sight of a full-size live monochrome woman was something of a shock to me and she was in a similar state. ‘Wha?’ she said. ‘Where? Who?’ She was very weak, and I had to hold her up to keep her from collapsing.

‘First, let’s get you out of these wet clothes,’ I said.

‘Who,’ she said, ‘you?’

‘That’s right,’ I said. ‘Nobody here but you and me.’

‘Who you?’

‘Istvan. You can call me Ish.’

‘Talk funny, you.’

‘I’m English. This is London.’

‘London, Texas?’

‘England.’

She shook her head. ‘The gold,’ she said, ‘don’t let them.’

‘Don’t worry about it, I’m taking care of everything.’

‘El Paso. Tornillo. Hit stage.’

‘Nobody’s going to hit the stage,’ I said.

‘You,’ she said as her shirt came off, ‘stop.’

‘It’s OK, you have nothing to worry about.’ Actually, her monochrome brassière and then her naked breasts were not at all erotic. Quite the opposite. Dead white skin, grey nipples.

‘You,’ she said, ‘not in this movie. Go way.’

‘This is the only movie there is,’ I said, ‘and I’m the leading man.’

‘Shit,’ she said, and fell asleep or fainted. The reality of this whole thing was nothing like what I’d anticipated. I was trying to remember why I’d been so smitten with her, so much in love that I’d had to bring her out of death and video into my primordial soup. I saw a whole lot of problems looming ahead of me while she lay there sleeping the sleep of the undead.

I hadn’t really thought through the problems of having a monochromatic companion. It wasn’t just the lack of colour — in black-and-white she had no strength, could barely drag one foot after the other. Yesterday when I took her out all bundled up proved to me that colour was the only answer, so I rang up my nephew Arkan Vulvic who’s a nurse at St Eustace and asked him to get me a blood transfusion kit. Everything but the blood, which I thought would be pushing it. I’ve got him enough special deals on electronic equipment to make it hard for him to say no but he sounded a little worried. ‘Nothing illegal, I hope,’ he said.

‘Of course not,’ I said. ‘You know me — always fooling around with one thing and another.’ Without asking more questions he sent me plastic bags, tubing, needles, cannulas and instructions by messenger. That was when I transferred about a pint of vintage Fallok to Justine. I felt a little strange afterwards but she was looking great and she didn’t say no when I wanted what lovers want. It was disappointing.

Now she was out on her first hunt. I sat there waiting for her and picturing it in various ways. Would she suddenly sprout fangs and would her eyes light up as in the movies? No, it would be more erotic, more subtle, lingering kisses and soft caresses until she would bend to his (or indeed her) neck, brush it with her lips, then sigh and drink her fill. I almost envied the victim.

I waited and drank Irv’s whisky with a minimum of water. The hours passed; I dozed in my chair and didn’t wake up until after three when she waltzed in, plumped herself down in my lap, and gave me a big wet kiss with a lot of tongue. ‘Wake up, Uncle Istvan,’ she said, ‘I’m hot to trot.’ Her cheeks were rosy, her eyes were sparkling and she was wearing a Guernsey instead of the jacket she’d left in.

‘Tell me what happened,’ I said.

‘Later — first I want a little action. Give it to me good and I’ll come in Technicolor for you.’ She was out of her clothes and on top of me in a flash and I have to say it was a whole lot better than the first time.

She sounded as if she was enjoying it too. ‘Well, shut my mouth, I’m a-headin’ south on the Dixie Cannonball,’ she sang, ‘Hoo-ee!’ After she settled down she kissed me and said, ‘How was it for you, old buddy?’

‘It was great. How come you’re being so nice to me?’

‘I told you, I’m hot to trot and right now you’re what I’ve got. You can get back in the saddle any time you want.’

‘Thank you, I’ll just rest for a bit. Tell me about your evening. But first I want to know where you left my jacket and where you got that jumper.’

‘Jumper?’

‘That sweater you’re wearing.’

‘I’ll get to that,’ she said, ‘but first I have to tell you what came before.’ Snuggling up to me in my chair, she took my hand and placed it on her breast. ‘Feel the excitement in me,’ she murmured. ‘What a night!’

‘Tell.’

‘When I went up those steps out to the street I was weak as a kitten and the whole world seemed to be losing colour along with me. I was leaning against a wall feeling as if I’d been dipped in shit three times and pulled out twice when a woman came walking by. She stopped when she saw me. ‘Are you all right?’ she said. I shook my head and she came closer. She was wearing a red jacket. She was pretty, she smelled good, she was plump and juicy. I was about to fall down but she grabbed me before I did. ‘I’ve got you,’ she said. ‘Thank you,’ I said. I was going to kiss her on the cheek but she turned her head so that I kissed her on the mouth. Such soft lips, and she was kissing me back with her tongue in my mouth. Her jacket was open at the top and there was the smooth bare skin of her neck and she smelled so good as I went for it. She gave a little sigh as she felt my teeth, almost as if she’d been expecting it, then she gasped as the blood began to come. I thought I would drink just enough to get me back on my feet but I couldn’t stop, and as she got weaker I held her tighter. She never said anything after that one little sigh, just surrendered completely. Telling about it now I get aroused all over again — I’d never had anything in my life like the thrill of holding her close and taking what I wanted. It made me wet and squirmy, and while I was drinking there were strong colours all around me, I could hear distant voices and street sounds as if they were next to me and I could smell Chinese food and hamburgers miles away. Then suddenly there was nothing left in her. I was so sad because I hadn’t meant to take her life. I carried her down some steps and left her there. I looked in her handbag to see what her name was. It was Rose, I’ll always remember her, my first. I didn’t take any money or anything from her and I left her bag with her.’