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Show 160 "Like athlete's foot?" I said, just as acidly. I almost wished Marion had been that kind of girl and I had a dose instead, it would have been simpler, no worse than a bad cold. The condom dulled me, our bodies sweated heavily together and made ugly sucking noises. She was feverish with lust, bestial with it when I'd hoped she would be tenderly melting with love. Then she cried. Then she stopped crying. "Get off," she said, and I went to the John to flush down the condom. Back in the room she was lying as I had left her on her back, staring at the ceiling as if at her worst self. That's when I needed practice at touching, at warmth and compassion. "I'm sorry," I said. "For what? That you screwed me?" " I thought i t would be l i ke last time." " I t never i s ." I felt like crying. We said goodby in dead, flat voices. I wish we had cried together, I wish we had wept rivers together while we kissed and parted. I called her to tell her that I had to see her just one more time before her husband got back but Polly answered and said Marion was sick. I didn't believe her. When I called back the next day, Polly said Marion had mumps and I really didn't believe her, adult's didn't catch children's diseases, so I kept calling back. She got better. Then one day I called and she was out with her husband; he was back in the States. I felt very alone. I felt absolutely shot through with loss, and every day I felt worse. I hadn't known how much one could suffer from love. People looked at me strangely, and finally even the squadron commander stopped to look at me. "What's up, Babe? Hangover?" He stopped beside my chair and put his hand on my shoulder, concerned, fatherly. "Feels like one. I really feel lousy. Maybe I ought to go to sickbay." |
