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Show 183 She will make a good wife, he says. The ship lunges and he nearly falls. A bottle slides off the table and shatters on the floor. The lights flicker. My old friend groans in his sleep. Let's sit someplace safer, says Elisa. I look around. One of the bottom bunks is unoccupied. We move to it. Alexis has his head in his hands, does not seem to realize we are gone. My stomach is a little uneasy, she says. I offer her a sip of Cognac. Is it a bad storm? she asks. The first one always seems bad, I say. What I told the sailor could be true. What do you mean? You could come with me to Jerusalem. I'm not Jewish. You've just been away, she says, and touches my cheek. The Greek has his head up and has noticed our absence-finds his feet and is suddenly looming over us. His eyes are sullen and glazed. Why do you leave me? he wants to know. She is tired, I say, does not feel well. Her head is on my shoulder. Another sailor has put his arm around Alexis, is pulling him away, arguing with him. Their words are loud and rough. You should get off this ship, Elisa says. Why? I slip my hand beneath her sweater. Her skin is warm and soft, and it seems to me I have touched her flesh many times |
