Jonathan Carroll - Voice of our Shadow

Hell will undoubtedly turn out to be a big waiting room full of old magazines and uncomfortable orange chairs. Plastic airport chairs. All of us will sit there, waiting for the door to open at the other end of the room and our names to be called out in a bored voice. We'll all know there is some kind of excruciating pain waiting for us on the other side of that door. The ultimate dentist's office.

We waited for Paul to do something more, but he didn't. We didn't see each other for a week, and our only communication was by phone once a day. Nothing happened, so I carefully suggested we try having coffee somewhere very public, very open, and very unintimate.

When India came into the restaurant she marched right over and kissed me on the forehead. I tried not to cringe.

"Joey, I got it figured out."

"What?"

"Why Paul's here, why he's come back." She swished her hand through her hair and smiled as if she owned the world.

"Do you love me, Joey?"

"What?"

"Just answer the question. Do you love me?"

"Huh, well, yes. Yes. Why?"

"Don't make it sound so passionate or I'll fall into a swoon. Hmmm. Mr. Lovebug. Anyway, Paul thinks you double-crossed him. We were all three great friends, right? Did everything together, all for one and all that stuff. It was okay because he trusted you and even asked you to take care of me when he went away. Trust, Joe. When he got around to discovering how we'd stepped all over that trust, it broke him in half. Snap!" She looked closely at me, then away. I could sense she was about to say something either hurtful or uncomfortable. "I think it was part of what killed him. There's no way to avoid it."

"Oh, India!" I feigned indignation, but I'd thought about the same thing a hundred times.

"Look, let's not start playing games with each other, okay? Paul died two days after your clinky scene in that men's room. Well, Joe, you should have seen what he was like those last two days before he died."

"Was he that bad?" It was my turn to look away.

"Yeah, it was bad. One night he started crying. I asked him what was the matter, and he tried to slough it off and everything, but, God, it was so completely obvious."

"India, how did he find out about us?"

"It's funny you've waited so long to ask." Her voice was all accusation.

"I was too embarrassed before. I was afraid you'd —"

"Forget it. The truth is, I told him. No, wait and hear me out before you say anything! I am the world's worst liar, Joe. I can never fib, because my face shows everything. Besides, Paul knew me better than anyone. You know that. He knew something was up the minute he got back from his trip, even though we hadn't gone to bed then. Will you stop looking at me like that, Joe? I'm telling you the truth.

"One time he asked if I wanted to make love. I said okay, but when we were ready he couldn't get hard. Not at all. That was no big deal, but when he knew it wasn't going to work, he blew up. All of a sudden he was asking me if I'd done it with you and if you were any good. All these shitty questions."

"Paul asked you if I was good?"

"You didn't know that side of him, Joe. He could be a totally mean son-of-a-bitch. The worst was, sometimes he'd really flip out and say these crazy, crazy things. Little Boy was Little Lulu compared to him then." She shook her head. "It doesn't matter anymore. The important thing is this time I've been telling you about. He kept at me and at me until I couldn't stand it. Like a little monster I ended up saying, Yes, yes, we'd done it all right." She stopped, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. "And because I'm such a shit, I couldn't help throwing in that you were really good, too. Nice, huh? Nice woman."

I picked up a magazine and opened it to a spread on the Austrian actress Senta Berger. Senta on television, Senta with her children, Senta in the kitchen. "Senta's in the kitchen with Dinah, Senta's in the kitchen I know-o-o-o, Senta's in the kitch —"

"Shut up, Joe."

I dropped the magazine. "I feel as if my head is going to crack open. All right, India, so you told him about us. What is your idea now? Why has he come back?"

"You're mad, huh? Joe, he would have found out sooner or later —"

"I am not mad. I'm tired and scared and. . scared. No, I realize you had to tell him. It's not that. Ever since he died I've known how much to blame I was. Partly to blame? Totally? Seven eighths? Who the hell knows.

"But the fact you and I slept together, India, had nothing to do with him. India, I loved Paul! I've never had a better friend in my life. I —" None of it was coming out the right way. I had to stop or else I would end up banging my head on the table in frustration.

She waited a beat, then ran her fingers down my cheek. "You mean you loved him and you loved me, but you ended up loving me different 'cause I'm a woman, right?"

"Yes, exactly." The words came out sounding so bleak and gray.

"Okay, but what you're saying only fits in with what I'm saying too. Listen to me carefully. Paul loved you too. He said it a million times, and I know he meant it. That's what hurt him all the more, see? He thinks you and I got together because you wanted to screw me and because I wasn't satisfied with him. That's all. Period."

"Part of that is true, India."

"Don't interrupt me. I've got it all straight in my mind and I don't want to get confused. Yes, part of that is true, Joe, but only part. We went to bed partly because we wanted each other, sure, but also because we just plain like each other; partly because we're good friends, partly because we're attracted. . Do you see what I mean? Paul thinks we jumped at the first chance we had to get a little fuck in. As far as he's concerned, we stabbed him in the back after he'd been so willing to trust us. We were willing to throw all of that great love and friendship out the window just so long as we could get it off a few times. Understand?"

"Yes, but what's the point?"

"Joe, the point is, if we can somehow reach him and tell him, show him it happened because we love each other, then maybe he'll understand and not be so hurt and vengeful. Yes, it will still be bad in his mind, but put yourself in his place. You find your wife waltzing around with your best friend. Bang — you go crazy 'cause you think they're dumping everything good just for a few hours in the hay. But then somehow you find out — God forbid — it wasn't like that at all. Those two are in love. It would change everything, don't you see? You've still been betrayed and bitten, but there's not so much venom because it wasn't just sex, it was the real thing!"

"India, that would be a hundred times worse! Having sex is one thing — it's pleasant and great — but love? I would much rather hear my wife was having a fling than about to take off with my best friend because they're in love. Flings are emotional and temporary, they're all skin and senses. But love? With a fling she still loves you and everything will probably be okay again in a while, when she comes back down to earth. But there's so little hope when she's in love."

"That's true with most people, Joe, but not with Paul."

"What isn't true?"

"Joe, I was married to the man for more than ten years. I know this is how he's feeling now. You'll have to trust me. I know him, believe me. I know him."

"Yes, you knew him, India, but the man is dead. It's a whole new ball game."

"Oh, is he dead? I hadn't noticed. I'm so glad you told me."

While I fumed she ignored me and ordered a bowl of soup from a passing waiter.

"Please, India, I don't want to fight with you. Especially now. I just want to know how you can be so sure of things when it's all so bizarre."

"It's bizarre all right, but I'll tell you something. The way Paul's going about it isn't bizarre at all. It's my husband, Joe. I'd know his brand ten miles away."