The Ginger Man - J. P. Donleavy [25]
I am lost in love with this room. Because it's an oasis of hiding with no door knocks for me. And the building looks sound. Want to have something solid to put the back to. When your back goes to the wall it is sensible to see that the wall is well founded and not given to collapse.
Sebastian lying on her bed while she told him. All about her year at London University. I didn't like it there and after a year I found Psychology drab and empty but I had to give it up anyway because my money was gone. There was money in Ireland left to my father and that's why I'm here. My father was Irish and my mother a Russian. Strange combination, isn't it, both killed in the beginning of the war and so I got to England. But I needn't tell you that I got less than half the money left to my father. Well, obviously I had to find work. So. See. The result? The laundry. I hate it and I hate Ireland. I'm lonely and bored. Thirty five shillings for this. Horrid little room, really.
My dear Chris, don't worry now. I'm here. I think it's a fine room, safe, nest of love. And you won't be lonely again. I tell you there are good things and pints of the best and pineapples too and fields and guts and lust, soil and bull. Sebastian, do you really think that way? I do. But I'm a woman and I can't I hate these Irishmen. Seedy bodies, their drunken smirks. I hate them. To listen to their snide remarks and their tight sneaky little nasty jokes. I hate this country.
My dear Chris, don't worry now.
She got up with her lovely legs, and poured the milk into the pot. For Ovaltine and biscuits.
At one a.m. just before he left he said he liked her so much. Gentle girl. And my dear Chris, I have my problems too. I think I am being choked to death by paper. Bills before breakfast and I do so want to have my breakfast first. And Sebastian, how did you ever get into such a mess. Miscalculation, my dear Chris and misunderstanding.
He kissed her hand as he left. And walked through the night by the canal, counting the locks and bulging waterfalls.
The story was, Marion, I missed the last tram. Just going down Nassau Street at a ferocious clip. Couldn't possibly get it. I'm in poor condition for running so I went back to Whitington's rooms in college. Smart bloke that, great help with the law of contract You're a liar, I know when you're lying,
Marion, what is there left for me to say then ?
On other evenings, Chris and he went for long walks and one Friday on her payday they went to the Grafton Cinema Cafe where on the top floor they dined mid shaded lamps and open medieval windows. It was so comfortable and full of rest and peace and better than home. Chris so insisted on paying. But I did not want to make a bad impression by appearing to be unconcerned. And after, we walked down along the quays and across the canal locks to Ringsend, the emptying mouth of Dublin. All black.
He had taken the tram home at eleven. Chris left him at the stop. Marion in the scabrous seat. Looking up from a copy of Woman's Home Companion that a barber had given him. There was a sign of gladness in her. But padded conversation out of my mouth. And she asked him would he like some warm milk with sugar in it All right They talked about America and mansions.
When they were going upstairs he noticed flowers on the box beside the bed. Marion undressing before the little mirror. Brushing her hair. His name in her plaintive voice.
"Sebastian?"
"What?"
"Sebastian"
Pausing, looking at the dresser, wrinkling the cloth with the brush.
"Sebastian, what do you think is happening to us?"
A shock ran through his body, rigid for a second and he drew his knees up in the bed. Slow rising sheet
"How do you mean ? "
"I don't know. Just happening. We don't talk to each other. I hardly see you."
"See me? Of course you do."
"You know what I mean."
"What?"
"Be with me, sort of. I feel cut off."
"It's only till my exam."
"I know, but you come home so late."
Marion poking the doth in little hills. His lungs light
"You may have to study but there's no response when I do see you."
"What do you mean?"