William Gaddis - The Recognitions

— Get them then! Take them! Take them!

He busied himself folding the shirts up with the gray suit, tightening his lips against the sounds which escaped her.

— Because there's no one, is there. You're alone now, aren't you. Are you alone now?

— Esther, good God. . please…

— Ignorance and desire, you've told me. . Oh, you've told me so many things, haven't you. All of our highest goals are inhuman ones, you told me, do you remember? I don't forget. But remorse binds us here together in ignorance and desire, and. . and. . not salt tears then, but. . She gasped again, shuddered but would not give in. — And what is it now, this reality you used to talk about, she went on more quietly. — As though you could deny, and have nothing to replace what you take away, as though. . Oh yes, zero does not exist, you told me. Zero does not exist! And here 1… I watched you turn into no one right here in front of me, and just a… a pose became a life, until you were trying to make negative things do the work of positive ones. And your family and your childhood, and your illness then and studying for the ministry, and. . when I married you we used to talk about all that intelligently, and I thought you were outside it, and understood it, but you're not, you're not, and you never will be, you never will get out of it, and you never. . you never will let yourself be happy. Esther was talking rapidly again, and she paused as though to give effect to the softness of her voice as she went on, though her memory crowded details upon her and it was these she fought. — There are things like joy in this world, there are, there are wonderful things, and there is goodness and kindness, and you shrug your shoulders. And I used to think that was fun, that you understood things so well when you did that, but finally that's all you can do, isn't it. Isn't it.

He stood across the bed holding his bundle up before him, meeting her eyes, provoked, and he smiled, ready to speak.

— And your smile, she went on, — even your smile isn't alive, because you abdicated, you moved out of life, and you. .

— But the past, he broke in, — every instant the past is reshaping itself, it shifts and breaks and changes, and every minute we're finding, I was right… I was wrong, until. .

Esther plundered the fragments her memory threw up to her, taking them any way, seizing them as they rose and clinging to each one until she'd thrust it out between them. — The boundaries between good and evil must be defined again, they must be reestablished, that's what a man must do today, isn't it? A man! Wasn't it?… She paused, retaining hold on that for a moment longer, raising her hand to her forehead in fact as though doing so, considering its details and lowering her voice. — Yes, you couldn't have a world in which the problem of evil could be solved with a little cunning, she added, word by word, dully, — and you. . Oh yes, by confessing, to set up order once more between yourself and the world. . Esther's voice tailed off as she stared down at the bed between them.

— Yes, go on, go on with it, he said eagerly when she stopped, staring at her.

For as it happened, this point had come from a play she'd read shortly after Otto had sailed for Central America, a play by Silone called And He Hid Himself: but even now, looking up, Esther saw these words on the lips before her, slightly parted in expectation. She began again, — I wish. .

— Yes, you understand, he burst in, — you understand, that's why this is crucial, you understand, don't you. How this is going to expiate. .

— Expiate! She accepted him again, standing there with his hand out.

— And that it isn't just expiation, but. . that's why it is crucial, because this is the only way we can know ourselves to be real, is this moral action, you understand don't you, the only way to know others are real. .

A wave of nausea rose through her body, and Esther gripped the corner of the night table behind her, swaying a little, swallowing again. — If we had had a child. . she murmured. — Yes, if we…

— And you understand it, his voice came on at her, — this moral action, it isn't just talk and — . . words, morality isn't just theory and ideas, that the only way to reality is this moral sense. .

— Stop it! she cried out. — Stop it!… She caught herself, and took up the handkerchief again quickly for saliva was running from the corner of her mouth beyond the apprehension of her swallowing. — Moral sense! she repeated loudly at him. — Do you think women have a moral sense? Do you think women have. . any morals? that. . that women can afford them?

— Esther. . He started toward her round the end of the bed.

— Oh no! she said. — No! Do you know how much she has to protect? and every minute more? And you make these things up, and force them on her, men take their own guilt, and call it moral sense and oppress her with it in the name of… She shrank back as he came close to her. — In the name of Christ why didn't you go on and. . stay where you came from, and be a minister where you came from, instead of… coming here where I… she shuddered as he took her arm, — have so much to protect.

— Esther, he said to her, that close.

— But now you. . are here, she said to him in a whisper. The nausea had fallen away, abruptly as it had come,' leaving her in his grip with her teeth chattering as she spoke, and her tears did not fall but spread evenly into the wetness of her cheeks. Two of her fingers sought his wrist, and tried to close on it. — You. . she articulated from a wild breath in his face, — now you are here to. . stay and protect…

They stood there with three senses locked in echo of the fourth, and she licked her lip.

— Sorry. .

The door banged against the wall.

— They're still there only talking …

The door banged closed.

— Esther. . you don't understand? His hand opened.

— You're not. . going to…

— Not yet, because tonight, when I've done what I have to do…

— Not yet! She stepped away as though she had broken from him. The clothes bundle fell to the floor. He put a hand out, and then withdrew it slowly, and stooped to recover the clothes.

Esther stared at the wrinkled black of his bent unsteady figure only for a moment. Then she opened the handkerchief, wadded all this time in her hand, and blew her nose as she crossed the room to the mirror, and he backed toward the door.

— I'd better go, he said, from there.

She did not answer. She had picked up a lipstick, and stood contorting her mouth, drawing generous lips. Then a rush of sound broke over her, and she looked up quick as the door came open behind him, and he stood there in the course of the waves pouring in around him, his back to it, not straight but still as a rock secure against the flood, safe until the turn of the tide.

— Because this. . one thing I have to do is… crucial, Esther.

— Crucial? she repeated calmly, and still she did not turn from the mirror. — And you think it will work, well it won't. Whatever it is, it won't. She watched her lips as she spoke, paused to draw them in, purse them, separate them so that her large teeth showed, and smudge the handkerchief between them.

And she stopped, dry and silent, as the door came closed where he stood against it. — What are you going to do? she asked him. — I don't mean this. . thing you're up to now, this crucial thing, whatever it is, I don't care what it is, but after all this what are you going to do? What are you going to do?

— I don't know but I think… he started precipitously, and as he went on his voice was strained but for the first time there was no doubt in it, and no effort to control excitement, — if we go on… if we go on we're finally forced to do the right thing, but. . and how can I say, now, where, or with whom… or what it will be.