Rafael Yglesias - Dr. Neruda's Cure for Evil

“I killed myself,” I said.

She meant to pick up one of the sushi. Instead, she withdrew the chopsticks. “You killed yourself,” she repeated, provoked, but confused.

“I died. I wanted to and I did.”

“You mean …” She leaned back, rested the chopsticks on the black lacquer dish. Her pupils were wide again. Her breasts rose and fell faster with excitement. “You mean you tried to commit suicide?”

“I did commit suicide. I was rescued by accident. I destroyed myself. Not physically. I killed my self. I had to build a new me.”

“And there’s …” her deep voice ran dry. She cleared her throat. She licked her lips. Her eyes were moist. I assumed I would move her, and I had. Recovering, she continued, “There’s really nothing left of the old you?”

“He’s dead.” I picked up a shrimp sushi and swallowed the long piece in a gulp.

“That’s impossible.” She began a laugh; it evolved into one of her expressive noises. “I mean, as a shrink, don’t you think it’s impossible?”

“You’ve done it too.” I took another sushi — I didn’t know what it was — and swallowed it whole. Her pretty face didn’t move. She watched me.

“What are you talking about?” she asked finally. “When did you tell Gene that you didn’t love him?”

“I don’t like this conversation,” she commented. It was a comment, spoken casually, as if to a third party, requesting that the subject be changed.

“Were you surprised that he left Cathy for you?”

Halley picked up her chopsticks and captured one of the pink squares. She bit off about half and chewed thoughtfully. She appeared to taste every nuance. She shut her eyes with a private look of pleasure. The slow undulating motion of her lips was obscene and titillating. She opened her eyes as she swallowed. “I want to make a trade.”

“Okay. What’s the trade?”

“You tell me why you killed yourself and I’ll tell you about Gene.”

For me, this was the moment of decision. Perhaps to the reader I may appear to have already surrendered to the novelty of this situation, but in my mind, I hadn’t yet crossed the line from a curious psychiatrist to the role I came to play, until I had to choose whether to satisfy Halley’s appetite. To think clearly, I disengaged from her steady gaze. A view of Broadway was available through the window. Instead, I shut my eyes to look at my past. I felt the warmth of Florida and heard the regret in Julie’s voice on my uncle’s lawn. Striped by New York’s amber lights, I watched the gentle motion of my mother in a half-painted room. Use your peasant brain, a man quoted my father. “You can live with me,” little Joe Stein said, sorry for my tears. Before I knew it, I was looking at Halley again, and I had decided.

“Do you know what Rafael means in Hebrew?” I asked her.

She sat up straight, a little startled. “In Hebrew? No. I’m not Jewish.”

“Of course you’re not.” I laughed. “Silly of me. I am. I’m only half-Jewish. And I’m half-Catholic.”

I gave her a précis of the extravagant events of my childhood and adolescence. I lingered only on the details of the most secret fact, taking special care to make my mother’s incestuous behavior clear. For a half hour, she listened raptly, her shining black eyes concentrated on me, including when she consumed her other piece of sushi. After I finished, she asked, “And what does Rafael mean in Hebrew? You never said.”

Her eyes strayed to my half-full deluxe platter. I picked up a piece from my surfeit and offered it. She gestured to her plate, accepting my gift, but not allowing me to feed it directly to her beautiful mouth. I surrendered the food to her dish. “It’s a promise from God,” I explained. “It means: He Will Heal.”

She nodded and armed herself with the chopsticks. She ate my offering in her deliberate manner. When it was thoroughly enjoyed, she asked with a playful smile, “Do you think you can heal me?”

“You haven’t kept your half of the bargain. Were you surprised when Gene left Cathy for you?”

“He didn’t leave her for me.”

“That’s what I used to think.”

“So you are blaming me.”

“No. It isn’t your fault you’re intoxicating. But you could have warned him. You could have said, when he announced he was leaving Cathy, ‘I don’t love you.’”

“I did.” She shrugged. “I told him there was no reason to leave her, that I would go on seeing him anyway. I didn’t care that he was married.”

“You preferred it, right?”

“Yes.” She raised her arms, stretching and yawning indolently. “It’s stuffy in here. Let’s walk.”

I rose, gesturing to the waiter. “No more? All done?” he asked.

“Just the check, please.” While he totaled it up, Halley said, “I’ll wait for you outside.” I watched her go. The waiter handed me the check. As I counted money from my wallet, I commented, “You sure are successful.”

“Yes,” the waiter said. “Very good business.”

“I ate here a long time ago. I was surprised you were still in business.”

He took my money and frowned. “No. Must be different place. We open only two year.”

Watch yourself, I thought, as I joined Halley outside. The air was still and humid on Broadway. There was a strong smell of rotting food. “Walk me home?” she asked, turning uptown.

“Sure.”

Without self-consciousness, she put her arm through mine. “Your story is incredible. I don’t mean incredible. I mean amazing. You must be a very strong person.”

“I’m so strong I can even carry your gym bag.” It dangled from her other arm and seemed to me to spoil her graceful walk.

“How sweet,” she said, passing the bag to me. I slung it over my free arm. She walked slowly, enjoying each step.

Released by a light, a trio of cabs rushed past. They created a breeze of carbon monoxide and I remembered Gene. “Gene told me about that conversation.”

“What conversation?”

“The one you were referring to. When you told him you didn’t mind if he stayed with Cathy. That you would keep on seeing him.”

“So you know I didn’t want Gene to leave her.”

“He didn’t tell me that. He told me you said you were in love with him. According to him, you said you were so in love you would take him on any terms.”

She stopped walking. We weren’t at a corner. Her arm remained through mine, although she turned toward me. “When did I say that?”

“A couple of years ago.”

“Oh,” she said, apparently relieved, head tilted. “I don’t remember. I thought you meant when he left Cathy for real, not when he was just talking about it.”

She resumed our parade. We passed a homeless man sprawled on top of an IRT subway grating. “How does that happen to somebody?” she asked in the lilting tone of a hurt and bewildered child.

“I don’t know anything about him,” I said.

“I bet you can explain. Edgar said you’ve done a lot of work with disadvantaged people.”

“I won’t be distracted,” I said. “I know you think I’m going to judge you for how you behaved with Gene, but I’m not. Gene was willful about his illusions. He might have made it all up, and even if he didn’t, that doesn’t mean you’re responsible for what happened.”

“Okay,” she said softly. “Ask away.”

“What I’d like to know is whether there was ever a time you might have agreed to live with him, to be married to him, to — well, take on the pretense of loving him full-time?”

We had reached Seventy-sixth Street. “This way,” she said, steering us toward Central Park. She paused at a newspaper kiosk and bought tomorrow’s Times. She took my arm again and continued our walk silently. By the time we crossed Columbus Avenue I was about to repeat my question. The moment I made a noise, she cut me off, “No. I never fantasized about being with him. I was sad, very sad, because my brother had died. Gene was a comfort. You know. And he was safe. I thought he was safe. I never believed him. Not for a second. I never thought he was going to leave her. She was a terrible bitch, but men stay with women like that. They have affairs, sad affairs, but they stay.” We were half a block from Central Park. A cooler, cleaner breeze came from its tall darkened trees. She let go of my arm to brush a wave of her hair from her face. She took a deep breath, held it, and spoke as she exhaled, “Anyway, I approved of him leaving her. I thought it would be good for him. I thought he was just using me as an excuse. And I read somewhere that men never stay with the women they leave their wives for. That’s true, isn’t it?”