Пол Боулз - Let it come down

«He has nothing, he wants nothing, he is nothing,» thought Daisy. She felt she ought to be sorry for him, but somehow he did not evoke pity in her — rather, a slight rancor which neutralized her other emotions. Finally she stood up. «We must see what has happened to Luis and Jack».

They found them in the drawing room talking.

«Which eucalyptus was it?» said Daisy. «I know it was one of them».

The Marques frowned. «The great one by the gate. It’s not the whole tree. Only one branch, but a big one, the one overhanging the road. The road is blocked».

«Why do they always manage to fall into the road?» demanded Daisy.

«I don’t know,» said Wilcox. «But it screws me up fine. How am I going to get out of here?»

She laughed merrily. «You and Mr. Dyar,» she said, with very clear enunciation, «will spend the night, and in the morning you’ll call for a taxi. It’s that simple».

«Out of the question,» said Wilcox irritably.

«I assure you no taxi will come now, in this weather. That goes without saying. And it’s eight kilometers to walk».

He had no answer to this.

«There are plenty of rooms for just such emergencies. Now, stop fretting and make me a whiskey and soda». She turned to Dyar and beamed.

When she had been served, Wilcox said shortly: «What about it, Dyar? Same for you?» Dyar looked quickly at him, saw that he seemed annoyed. «Please». Wilcox handed him his drink without turning to face him. «That’s easy,» Dyar thought. «He’s afraid I’m getting on too well with her».

They talked about the house. «You must come back sometime during the daylight and see the rose garden,» said Daisy. «We have the most divine rose garden».

«But what you’ve really got to see is that glass bedroom,» said Wilcox, leaning back in his chair and yawning toward the ceiling. «Have you seen that?»

The Marques laughed uncomfortably.

«No, he hasn’t,» Daisy said. She rose, took Dyar’s arm. «Come along and see it. It’s a perfect opportunity. Jack and Luis will discuss the week’s bankruptcies».

The bedroom reminded Dyar of a vast round greenhouse. He scuffed at the zebra skins scattered about on the shining black marble floor. The bed was very wide and low, its heavy white satin spread had been partially pulled back and the sheets were turned down. The place was a gesture of defiance against the elements that clamored outside the glass walls; he felt distinctly uncomfortable. «Anybody could see in, I should think,» he ventured.

«If they can see all the way from Spain». She stood staring down toward the invisible waves that broke on the rocks below. «This is my favorite room in the world,» she declared. «I’ve never been able to abide being away from the sea. I’m like a sailor, really. I take it for granted that salt water is the earth’s natural covering. I must be able to see it. Always». She breathed deeply.

«What’s this act all about?» he thought.

«It’s a wonderful room,» he said.

«There are orange trees down in the garden. I call the place Hesperides because it’s here to this mountain that Hercules is supposed to have come to steal the golden apples».

«Is that right?» He tried to sound interested and impressed. Since he had started on the whiskey he had been sleepy. He had the impression that Wilcox and the Marques would be coming upstairs any minute; when they came he felt that Daisy and he ought not to be found standing here in her bedroom in this tentative, absurd attitude. He saw her stifle a yawn; she had no desire to be showing him the room anyway. It was merely to irk Wilcox, a game they were in together. It occurred to him then that it might be fun to play around a little with her, to see which way the wind was blowing. But he was not sure how to begin; she was a little overwhelming. Something like: That’s a big bed for one small person. She would probably reply: But Luis and I sleep here, my dear. Whatever he said or did she would probably laugh.

«I know what you’re thinking,» she said. He started a bit. «You’re sleepy, poor man. You’d like to go to bed».

«Oh,» he said. «Well» —

A youngish woman hurried into the room, calling: « On peut entrer ?» Her clothes were very wet, her face glistened with rain. She and Daisy began a lively conversation in French, scraps of which were thrown to Dyar now and then. She was Daisy’s secretary, she was just returning from a dance, the taxi had been obliged to stop below the fallen tree, but the driver had been kind enough to walk with her to the house and was downstairs now having a cognac, she was soaked through, and did anyone want the cab?

«Do we!» cried Dyar, with rather more animation than was altogether civil. Immediately he felt apologetic and began to stammer his thanks and excuses.

«Rush downstairs, darling. Don’t stop to say good night. Hurry! I’ll call you tomorrow at the office. I have something to talk to you about».

He said good night, ran down the stairs, meeting the Marques on the way.

«Jack is waiting for you outside. Good night, old boy,» said the Marques, continuing to climb. When he reached the top of the stairs, Daisy was blowing out the candles along the wall. « Estamos salvados ,» she said, without looking up. « Qué gentuza más aburrida ,» sighed the Marques.

She continued methodically, holding her hand carefully behind each flame as she blew on it. She had the feeling her evening had somehow gone all wrong, but at what point it had begun to do that she could not tell.

The malevolent wind struck out at them as they fought their way to the taxi. They crawled under one end of the great branch that lay diagonally across the road. The driver had some difficulty turning the car; at one point he backed into a wall and cursed. When they were on their way, going slowly down the dark mountain road, Wilcox said: «Well, did you see the bedroom?»

«Yes».

«You’ve seen everything. You can go back to New York. Tangier holds no secrets for you now».

Dyar laughed uneasily. After a pause he said: «What’s up tomorrow? Do I come around to the agency?»

Wilcox was lighting a cigarette. «You might drop in sometime during the late afternoon, yes».

His heart sank. Then he was angry. «He knows damned well I want to start work. Playing cat and mouse». He said nothing.

When they arrived in the town, Wilcox called: «Atlantide». The cab turned right, climbed a crooked street, and stopped before a large doorway. «Here’s fifty pesetas,» said Wilcox, pressing some notes into his hand. «My share».

«Fine,» said Dyar. «Thanks».

«Good night».

«Good night».

The driver looked expectantly back. «Just wait a minute,» said Dyar, gesturing. He could still see Wilcox in the lobby. When he had gone out of sight, Dyar paid the man, got out, and started to walk downhill, the rain at his back. The street was deserted. He felt pleasantly drunk, and not at all sleepy. As he walked along he muttered: «Late afternoon. Drop in, do. Charmed, I’m sure. Lovely weather». He came to a square where a line of cabs waited. Even in the storm, at this hour, the men spied him. «Hey, come! Taxi, Johnny?» He disregarded them and cut into a narrow passageway. It was like walking down the bed of a swiftly running brook; the water came almost to the tops of his shoes, sometimes above. He bent down and rolled up his trousers, continued to walk. His thoughts took another course. Soon he was chuckling to himself, and once he said aloud: «Golden apples, my ass!»

Thami was furious with his wife: She had a nose bleed and was letting it drip all over the patio. He had told her to get a wet rag and try to stanch it with that, but she was frightened and seemed not to hear him; she merely kept walking back and forth in the patio with her head bent over. There was an oil lamp flickering just inside the door, and from where he lay on his mattress he could see her hennaed feet with their heavy anklets shuffle by every so often in front of him. Rain fell intermittently, but she did not seem to notice it.