Colm Tóibín - Brooklyn

Suddenly, Frank appeared in his pyjamas. He had moved so quietly that she did not notice him until he was standing nearly in front of her. He seemed immensely curious and stealthy, almost comically so, like a figure in a movie who has just witnessed a robbery or a murder on a dark street. And then he looked at her openly and smiled at her and she had no choice but to smile in return just as Tony appeared and then Frank had to go back to his bedroom, having been told to mind his own business and leave Eilis alone.

›From Tony's appearance, she knew that he had been asleep. He checked in his pockets for his keys and then he slipped back into the kitchen, where she could not see him, and whispered something to his mother or his father and then came out again, the expression on his face grave and responsible and concerned.

As they walked down the street towards the diner Tony held her close to him. They moved slowly and did not speak. For a second, as they had made their way down the stairs of his building, she had felt that he was angry with her for calling so late, but now she understood that he was not. He had a way of snuggling in close to her when they walked together that made her know that he loved her. He was doing this now even more intensely than usual. She also knew it would matter to him that if she needed help like this she would feel secure coming to him rather than Father Flood or Mrs. Kehoe, that he would come first for her. More than anything else she had ever done, she thought, this was the most direct and emphatic way she had ever made clear to him that she would stay with him.

In the diner, once they had ordered, he read Jack's letter slowly, almost too slowly, she thought, letting his lips move with some of the words. It struck her that she should not have shown it to him and should not have come to his house like this. It would be impossible for him to read the parts about her mother wanting to see her, her mother unable to be alone, without his feeling that she might go and that this was her way of breaking the news to him. As she watched him reading, his face pale, his expression deadly serious, as he seemed to be fiercely concentrating, she guessed that he was going over those parts of the letter that seemed to suggest she was needed by her mother in Enniscorthy. She was sorry now that she had not managed to contain herself earlier, that she had not foreseen this. And she felt stupid because she knew that no matter what she said it would be impossible to convince Tony that she wasn't going to go back to Ireland.

When he handed her the letter there were tears in his eyes.

"Your brother must be a very nice man," he said. "I wish…" He hesitated for a moment and then reached across the table and held her hand. "I don't mean I wish, but it would have been right if you and me had been there at the funeral, if I could have been there with you."

"I know," she said.

"And soon your mother will write," he said, "and you must come to my house before you even open her letter."

She could not tell if he meant it when he suggested that she should not be alone when she opened her mother's letter because he should be close by to comfort her. Or if he really meant, in fact, that, since he could not read her mind or guess precisely what her intentions were, he would like to see what her mother had to say about her going or her staying.

All this was a mistake, she thought again, as she set about apologizing for having disturbed him. When she realized how cold this sounded and how it seemed to set her at a distance from him, she told him how grateful she was for him coming out with her now when she needed him. He nodded, but she knew that he was disturbed by the letter, or maybe he was just as upset by it as she had been, or maybe he was a puzzling mixture of both.

He insisted on taking her home, even though she protested that he could easily miss the very last subway back. Once more, they did not speak, but as he walked her from the subway station through the dark cold empty streets to Mrs. Kehoe's, she felt that she was being held by someone wounded, that the letter had somehow, in its tone, made clear to him what had really happened and made plain to him also that she belonged somewhere else, a place that he could never know. She thought that he was going to cry; she felt almost guilty that she had handed some of her grief to him, and then she felt close to him for his willingness to take it and hold it, in all its rawness, all its dark confusion. She was almost more upset now than she had been when she had ventured out in search of him.

When they reached the house he held her but did not kiss her. She moved as close to him as she could until she felt the warmth of him and they both began to sob. She wished that she could tell him, in a way that would make him believe her, that she would not go, but then it struck her that Tony might feel she should go, that the letter had made him see where her duty lay, that he was crying now for everything, for Rose who was dead, for her mother who was lonely, for Eilis who would have to go, and for himself who would be left. She wished she could say something clear, or even wished that she could tell what he was thinking or why he was crying now harder than she was.

She knew that she could not walk alone down the steps into the basement and turn on the light in her room and be on her own there. And she knew also that he could not turn from her and walk away. As she produced the door key from the pocket of her coat, she pointed to Mrs. Kehoe's window and put her finger to her lips. They tiptoed down the steps to the basement and she opened the door and turned on the light in the hall and closed the door without making a sound and opened the door of her room for him before turning off the light in the hall.

The room was warm and they both took off their coats. Tony's face was puffed and raw from crying. When he tried to smile she moved towards him and held him.

"Is this where you live?" he whispered.

"Yes, and if you make one sound, I'll be evicted," she said.

He kissed her gently and responded with his tongue only when she opened her mouth for him. His body was warm and seemed strangely vulnerable to her now as she pulled him against her. She ran her hands down his back and under his shirt until she was touching his skin. They moved towards the bed without speaking. As they lay beside each other, he lifted her skirt and opened his trousers enough for her to feel his penis against her. She knew that he was waiting for a sign from her, that he would do nothing more as they continued to kiss. She opened her eyes and saw that his were closed. Quietly, she moved away from him and took off her panties and by the time she lay beside him again he had pulled his trousers down further and his underwear too so that she could touch him. He tried to put his hands on her breasts but could not easily unloose her brassiere; he put his hand on her back and concentrated on kissing her fiercely.

When he moved on top of her and entered her she tried not to gasp as she began to panic. It was not only the pain and the shock but the idea that she could not control him, that his penis was pushing into her deeper than she wanted it to go. With each thrust it seemed to move further into her until she was sure it was going to injure something inside her. She felt a relief as it pulled back but only to find it worse each time as it pushed up into her. She tightened as much as she could to stop it and she wished she could call out or indicate that he should not push in so hard, that he was going to break something.

That she could not shout made her panic even greater; she put her energy into tightening her whole body with all the force she could gather. And as she did so he gasped, he made noises that she did not imagine anyone could make, a sort of muffled whining that did not let up. As he stopped moving she tightened more, hoping that he would now take his penis out, but instead he lay on top of her, gasping. It seemed to her that he was unaware of anything except his own breathing, that in these minutes as she lay with him quietly on top of her he did not know or care that she existed. She had no idea how they were going to face each other now. She did not move as she waited for him to do something.