Эд Макбейн - Mothers and Daughters

“Yes. Was it good for you?”

“It was marrr -velous.”

“I love you,” he said.

“Oh, and I love you. Oh, and I love what we did. It didn’t hurt at all, do you know that? Now you won’t believe me. Is there blood? Will there be blood?”

“Gillian, I’ll believe whatever you tell me as long as I live.”

“I feel I’ve known you always, since I learned to walk. It’s the oddest thing! I feel as if I’m part of you. I feel wonderful! Do you love me?”

“I love you, I love you, I love you.”

“Will I have a baby?”

“No.”

“Did you... yes, you did. I didn’t even notice. You’re very good. And very practiced. I hate that other girl.” She paused. “I hate that officer who sent you to prison. How could you stand it in prison, David? Didn’t you want to explode?” She laughed suddenly. “Oh, my, but you did explode, didn’t you?”

“I like that.”

“What do you like, darling?”

“Your laugh. It’s a good dirty laugh.”

“Dirty?”

“Yes. Whores laugh that way.”

“Oh, what a nice thing to say!”

“I mean, I think they must. You have a beauty spot.”

“I have a lot of them.”

“I mean, right there.” He touched it with his forefinger.

“I tremble every time you touch me. Should I feel this way so soon? I must be terribly wicked. I want to touch you again. Are you going to marry me?”

“Yes.”

“When?”

“When would you like to get married?”

“Now. Tonight.”

“No, not tonight. I don’t want to leave this apartment tonight.”

“Neither do I.” She laughed suddenly and said, “My father should only see me now!”

“He wouldn’t approve?”

“He’d shoot you on the spot.”

“Maybe I ought to leave. I wouldn’t want to get shot.”

“I’d protect you. I’d throw myself across you.”

“That would only complicate matters. Look at what you’re doing.”

“Oh! Oh, look at that!”

“Yes.”

“That’s amazing! Isn’t it amazing?”

“No, I think it’s normal.”

“Am I very exciting?”

“You are very very exciting.”

“I want to excite you. I want you to desire me every minute of the day.”

“That could get exhausting.”

“I suppose so, but it’s what I want anyway. Should I stop? I mean, you’re not going to...?”

“No.” He smiled.

“Because I can stop, you know. No, I can’t, isn’t that disgusting? I can’t keep my hands away from you.” She paused. “Do you like that?”

“Yes.”

“May I kiss you?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“I meant...”

“I know what you meant.”

“Do I shock you?”

“No.”

“I just want... I want to do everything with you. If I shock you, you must stop me.”

“How can you shock me? You’re Gillian.”

“Yes, I am. Isn’t that nice?” She paused. “Your belly is good and flat. There.” She kissed his stomach and then said, “What should I do?”

“Whatever you want to.”

“Tell me,” she said seriously. “Tell me how best to please you. Before we part, tell me how I...”

“Part?”

“What a silly thing to say,” she said, and suddenly threw herself into his arms and hugged him fiercely. “We have a lifetime,” she said. “We have a lifetime.”

The city was new.

The late-December snow had heaped tons of whiteness upon her streets, turned her into a tundra wonderland devoid of traffic. There was a hush accompanying her rebirth, the silent tread of rubber-shod soles cushioned on snow, the lazy soundless swirl of snowflakes against amber lights, the secret hiss of radiators behind windows rimmed with frost. New and clear with biting cold that tantalized the cheeks and stung the teeth. New and fresh with voices echoing on nearly deserted streets and children sliding down new white mountains. The snow fell still. It melted when it touched your cheeks. It hung incredibly beautiful on the tweed of your sleeve, clung for just a moment, melted, vanished and magically reappeared an inch away, a new star on blue wool fading.

David walked through the snow pulling the child’s sled behind him, breathing deeply of the icy air. He had borrowed the sled from his landlady’s son, promising him he would return it in excellent condition, telling him it was very important that he have a sled to commemorate this very important day when God had managed to clean the city as no mayor ever had, and finally settling the debate with a well-placed quarter in a small cold fist. The snow whirled about him as he walked, clinging to his eyelashes, tracing wet trails down the back of his neck under his collar. He stopped every now and then to cover his ears with his mittened hands, and then plunged through the knee-deep snow again, anxious to reach Gillian’s place before the afternoon was gone entirely. He left the sled in the hallway of her building, and then clomped upstairs in his galoshes. Gillian opened the door at his first knock.

“My God, what happened?” she said. “I’ve been calling and calling...”

“Nothing’s moving,” he said breathlessly. “No buses, no cabs. I walked.”

“From First Avenue?”

David nodded. “Gillian, you’ve never seen anything like this. The city is—”

“I was ready to call the police. You said you were leaving two hours ago.”

“I did. Everything’s white, Gillian. The streets, the buildings, the sky, even the telephone wires...”

“Come hold me.”

He scooped her into his arms and held her tight, her face warm against his frozen cheek.

“Hi,” she said.

“Hi.”

“Brrrr. You make me cold.”

“Put on your coat. We’re going downstairs.”

“Oh, like hell we are,” Gillian said.

“I’ve got a sled.”

“Where’d you get a sled?”

“I bribed my landlady’s son.”

“You brought it all the way from—?”

“Yes, come on. Get your coat.”

“Oh no! I’m going to put on my bathrobe and huddle by the radiator.”

“Get your coat, Gillian! If I can lug a sled all the—”

“All right, all right, don’t get excited,” she answered. She pulled him into the apartment and closed the door. “Here, stand by the heat. Take off your mittens. Your coat is all wet. Warm your hands. Shall I make some coffee?”

“No. Get your coat.”

“Some hot chocolate? It’ll only take—”

“Gillian, it’ll be dark soon!”

“Oh, all right!” She nodded her head once, emphatically, and went down the corridor to her bedroom. Smiling, David pulled off his mittens and held his hands out to the hissing radiator. Outside the living-room window, he could see the swirl of snowflakes, large and wet. He heard Gillian coming down the corridor again and turned toward her. She had bundled herself into a fleece-lined ski parka, the hood pulled up over her head. She grinned and leaned against the corridor wall, one hand on her hip.

“You like nice Eskimo girl?” she asked.

“You ready?” he said, laughing.

“Nice Eskimo girl smell of walrus fat, you like?”

“Come on, let’s go downstairs before it gets dark.”

“You no like Eskimo girl kiss with nose?”

“You’d better put a scarf around your throat.”

“Very cheap. You like?”

“Go get a scarf.”

Gillian wiggled her eyebrows. “Ten sealskins all night. Very cheap.” In a whisper, she added, “Arctic night very long.”

David hugged her and said, “Who’s your agent?”

“Marian Lewis.”

“Thank you very much. But...”

“Don’t call us, we’ll call you,” they said together, and laughed.