His wish to make love to Janice is like a small angel to which all afternoon tiny lead weights are attached. The baby scrawks tirelessly. It lies in its crib all afternoon and makes an infuriating noise of strain, Hnnnnnah ah ah nnnnh, a persistent1 feeble scratching at some interior door. What does it want? Why won't it sleep? He has come home from church carrying something precious for Janice and keeps being screened from giving it to her. The noise spreads fear through the apartment. It makes his stomach ache; when he picks up the baby to burp her he burps himself the pressure in his stomach keeps breaking and re?fornung into a stretched bubble as the bubble in the baby doesn't break. The tiny soft marbled body, weightless as paper, goes stiff against his chest and then floppy2, its hot head rolling as if it will unjoint from its neck. "Becky, Becky, Becky," he says, "go to sleep. Sleep, sleep, sleep."
The noise makes Nelson fretful and whiny3. As if, being closest to the dark gate from which the baby has recently emerged, he is most sensitive to the threat the infant is trying to warn them of. Some shadow invisible to their better?formed senses seems to grab Rebecca as soon as she is left alone. Rabbit puts her down, tiptoes into the living room; they hold their breath. Then, with a bitter scratch, the membrane4 of silence breaks, and the wobbly moan begins again, Nnnh, a?nnnnnih!
"Oh my God," Rabbit says. "Son of a bitch. Son of a bitch."
Around five in the afternoon, Janice begins to cry. Tears burble down her dark pinched face. "I'm dry," she says. "I'm dry. I just don't have anything to feed her." The baby has been at her breasts repeatedly.
"Forget it," he says. "She'll conk out. Have a drink. There's some old whisky in the kitchen."
"Say; what is this Have a drink routine of yours? I've been trying not to drink. I thought you didn't like me to drink. All afternoon you've been smoking one cigarette after another and saying, `Have a drink. Have a drink.' "
"I thought it might loosen you up. You're tense as hell."
"I'm no tenser than you are. What's eating you? What's on your mind?"
"What's happened to your milk? 'Why can't you give the kid enough milk?"
"I've fed her three times in four hours. There's nothing there any more." In a plain, impoverished5 gesture, she presses her breasts through her dress.
"Well have a drink of something."
"Say, what did they tell you at church? `Go on home and get your wife soused'? You have a drink if that's on your mind."
"I don't need a drink."
"Well you need something. You're the one's upsetting Becky. She was fine all morning until you came home."
"Forget it. Just forget it. Just forget the whole frigging thing."
"Baby cry! "
Janice puts her arm around Nelson. "I know it honey. She's hot. She'll stop in a minute."
"Baby hot?"
They listen for a minute and it does not stop; the wild feeble warning, broken by tantalizing6 gaps of silence, goes on and on. Warned, but not knowing of what, they blunder about restlessly through the wreckage7 of the Sunday paper, inside the apartment, whose walls sweat like the walls of a prison. Outside, the wide sky hosts a high sun, blue through the hours, and Rabbit is further panicked by the thought that on such a day his parents used to take him and Mim on walks to the quarry8 ? they are wasting a beautiful Sunday. But they can't get organized enough to get out. He and Nelson could go but Nelson's strange fright makes him reluctant to leave his mother, and Rabbit, hoping to possess her eventually, hovers9 near her like a miser10 near treasure. His lust11 glues them together.
She feels this and is oppressed by it. "Why don't you go out? You're making the baby nervous. You're making me nervous."
"Don't you want a drink?"
"No. No. I just wish you'd sit down or stop smoking or rock the baby or something. And stop touching12 me. It's too hot. I think I should be back at the hospital."
"Do you hurt? I mean down there."
"Well I wouldn't if the baby would stop. I've fed her three times. Now I must feed you supper. Ohh. Sundays make me sick. What did you do in church that makes you so busy?"
"I'm not busy. I'm trying to be helpful."
"I know. That's what's so unnatural13. Your skin smells funny."
"How?"
"Oh I don't know. Stop bothering me."
"I love you."
"Stop it. You can't. I'm not lovable right now."
"You just lie down on the sofa and I'll make some soup."
"No no no. You give Nelson his bath. I'll try to nurse the baby again. Poor thing there's nothing there."
They eat supper late but in broad light; the day is one of the longest of the year. They sip14 soup by the flickering15 light of Rebecca's urgent cries; her feeble voice is a thin filament16 burning with erratic17 injections of power. But as, amid the stacked dishes on the sink, under the worn and humid furniture, and in the coffin18?like hollow of the plaited crib, the shadows begin to strengthen, the grip of the one with which Becky has been struggling all afternoon relaxes, and suddenly she is quiet, leaving behind a solemn guilty peace. They had failed her. A foreigner speaking no English but pregnant with a great painful worry had been placed among them and they had failed her. At last, night itself had swept in and washed her away like a broken piece of rubbish.
"It couldn't have been colic, she's too young for colic," Janice says. "Maybe she was just hungry, maybe I'm out of milk."
"How could that be, you've been like footballs."
She looks at him squinting19, sensing what's up. "Well don't think you're going to play." But he thinks he spies a smile there.
Nelson goes to bed as he does when he's sick, willingly, whimpering. His sister was a drain on him today. Sunk in the pillow, Nelson's brown head looks demure20 and compact. As the child hungrily roots the bottle in his mouth, Rabbit hovers, seeking what you never find, the expression with which to communicate, to transfer, those fleeting21 burdens, ominous22 and affectionate, that are placed upon us and as quickly lifted, like the touch of a brush. Obscure repentance23 clouds his mouth, a repentance out of time and action, a mourning simply that he exists in a world where the tan heads of little boys sink gratefully into narrow beds sucking bottles of rubber and glass. He cups his hand over the bulge25 of Nelson's forehead. The boy drowsily26 tries to brush it off, waggles his head with irritation27, and Harry28 takes it away and goes into the other room.
He persuades Janice to have a drink. He makes it ? he doesn't know much about alcoholic29 things? of half whisky and halfwater. She says it tastes hateful. But after a while consumes it.
In bed he imagines that he can feel its difference in her flesh. There is that feeling of her body coming into his hand, of fitting his palm, that makes a sexy texture30. All under her nightie up to the pit of her throat her body is quiet for him. They lie sideways, facing each other. He rubs her back, first lightly, then toughly, pushing her chest against his, and gathers such a feel of strength from her pliancy31 that he gets up on an elbow to be above her. He kisses her dark, hard face scented32 with alcohol. She does not turn her head, but he reads no rejection33 in this small refusal of motion, that lets him peck away awkwardly at a profile. He stifles34 his tide of resentment35, reschooling himself in her slowness. Proud of his patience, he resumes rubbing her back. Her skin keeps its secret, as does her tongue; is she feeling it? After Ruth, she is mysterious, an opaque36 and virginal wife. Is he kindling37 the spark? His wrist aches. He dares undo38 the two buttons of her nightie front and lifts the leaf of cloth so a long arc is exposed in the rich gloom of the bed, and her warm breast flattens39 against the bare skin of his chest. She submits to this maneuver40 and he is filled with the joyful41 thought that he has brought her to this fullness. He is a good lover. He relaxes into the warmth of the bed and pulls the bow on his pajama waist. She has been shaved and scratches; he settles lower, on the cotton patch. This unnaturalness42, this reminder43 of her wound, makes his confidence delicate, so he is totally destroyed when her voice ? her thin, rasping, dumb?girl's voice ? says by his ear, "Harry. Don't you know I want to go to sleep?"
"Well, why didn't you tell me before?"
"I don't know. I didn't know."
"Didn't know what?"
"I didn't know what you were doing. I thought you were just being nice."
"So this isn't nice."
"Well it's not nice when I can't do anything." "You can do something."
"No I can't. Even if I wasn't all tired and confused from Rebecca's crying all day I can't. Not for six weeks. You know that."
"Yeah, I know, but I thought =' He's terribly embarrassed. "What did you think?"
"I thought you might love me anyway." After a pause she says, "I do love you."
"Just a touch, Jan. Just let me touch you." "Can't you go to sleep?"
"No I can't. I can't. I love you too much. Just hold still."
It would have been easy a minute ago to get it over with but all this talk has taken the fine point off. It's a bad contact and her stubborn limpness makes it worse; she's killing44 it by making him feel sorry for her and ashamed and foolish. The whole sweet thing is just sweat and work and his ridiculous inability to finish it against the dead hot wall of her belly45. She pushes him back. "You're just using me," she says. "It feels horrible."
"Please, baby. I'm almost there."
"It feels so cheap."
Her daring to say this infuriates him; he realizes she hasn't had it for three months and in all that time has got an unreal idea of what sex is. She has imagined it into something rare and precious she's entitled to half of when all he wants is to get rid of it so he can move on, on into sleep, down the straight path, for her sake. It's for her sake.
"Roll over," he says.
"I love you," she says with relief, misunderstanding, thinking he's dismissing her. She touches his face in farewell and turns her back.
He scrunches46 down and fits himself lengthwise between her buttocks, just so they kind of grip. It's beginning to work, steady, warm, when she twists her head and says over her shoulder, "Is this a trick your whore taught you?"
He thumps47 her shoulder with his fist and gets out of bed and his pajama bottoms fall down. The night breeze filters in through the window screen. She turns over on her back into the center of the bed and explains stupidly out of her dark face, "I'm not your whore, Harry."
"Damn it," he says, "that was the first thing I've asked from you since you came home."
"You've been wonderful," she says.
"Thanks."
"Where are you going?"
He is putting on his clothes. "I'm going out. I've been cooped up in this damn hole all day."
"You went out this morning."
He finds his suntans and puts them on. She asks, "Why can't you try to imagine how I feel? I've just had a baby."
"I can. I can but I don't want to, it's not the thing, the thing is how I feel. And I feel like getting out."
"Don't. Harry. Don't."
"You can just lie there with your precious ass24. Kiss it for me."
"Oh for God's sake," she cries, and flounces under the covers, and smashes her face down into her pillow.
Even this late he might have stayed if she hadn't accepted defeat by doing this. His need to love her is by, so there's no reason to go. He's stopped loving her at last so he might as well lie down beside her and go to sleep. But she asks for it, lying there in a muddle48 sobbing49, and outside, down in the town, a motor guns and he thinks of the air and the trees and streets stretching bare under the streetlamps and goes out the door.
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persistent
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| adj.坚持不懈的，执意的；持续的 | |
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floppy
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| adj.松软的，衰弱的 | |
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whiny
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| adj. 好发牢骚的, 嘀咕不停的, 烦躁的 | |
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membrane
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| n.薄膜，膜皮，羊皮纸 | |
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impoverished
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| adj.穷困的，无力的，用尽了的v.使（某人）贫穷( impoverish的过去式和过去分词 )；使（某物）贫瘠或恶化 | |
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tantalizing
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| adj.逗人的；惹弄人的；撩人的；煽情的v.逗弄，引诱，折磨( tantalize的现在分词 ) | |
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wreckage
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| n.（失事飞机等的）残骸，破坏，毁坏 | |
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quarry
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| n.采石场；v.采石；费力地找 | |
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hovers
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| 鸟( hover的第三人称单数 )； 靠近（某事物）； （人）徘徊； 犹豫 | |
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miser
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| n.守财奴，吝啬鬼 (adj.miserly) | |
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lust
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| n.性(淫)欲；渴(欲)望；vi.对…有强烈的欲望 | |
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touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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unnatural
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| adj.不自然的；反常的 | |
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sip
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| v.小口地喝，抿，呷；n.一小口的量 | |
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flickering
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| adj.闪烁的，摇曳的，一闪一闪的 | |
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filament
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| n.细丝；长丝；灯丝 | |
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erratic
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| adj.古怪的，反复无常的，不稳定的 | |
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coffin
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| n.棺材，灵柩 | |
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squinting
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| 斜视( squint的现在分词 )； 眯着眼睛； 瞟； 从小孔或缝隙里看 | |
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demure
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| adj.严肃的；端庄的 | |
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fleeting
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| adj.短暂的，飞逝的 | |
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ominous
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| adj.不祥的，不吉的，预兆的，预示的 | |
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repentance
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| n.懊悔 | |
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ass
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| n.驴；傻瓜，蠢笨的人 | |
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bulge
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| n.突出，膨胀，激增；vt.突出，膨胀 | |
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drowsily
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| adv.睡地，懒洋洋地，昏昏欲睡地 | |
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irritation
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| n.激怒，恼怒，生气 | |
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harry
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| vt.掠夺，蹂躏，使苦恼 | |
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alcoholic
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| adj.（含）酒精的，由酒精引起的；n.酗酒者 | |
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texture
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| n.(织物)质地；(材料)构造；结构；肌理 | |
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pliancy
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| n.柔软，柔顺 | |
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scented
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| adj.有香味的；洒香水的；有气味的v.嗅到(scent的过去分词) | |
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rejection
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| n.拒绝，被拒，抛弃，被弃 | |
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stifles
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| （使）窒息， （使）窒闷( stifle的第三人称单数 )； 镇压，遏制 | |
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resentment
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| n.怨愤，忿恨 | |
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opaque
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| adj.不透光的；不反光的，不传导的；晦涩的 | |
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kindling
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| n. 点火, 可燃物 动词kindle的现在分词形式 | |
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undo
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| vt.解开，松开；取消，撤销 | |
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flattens
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| 变平，使（某物）变平( flatten的第三人称单数 )； 彻底打败某人，使丢脸； 停止增长（或上升）； （把身体或身体部位）紧贴… | |
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maneuver
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| n.策略[pl.]演习；v.(巧妙)控制；用策略 | |
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joyful
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| adj.欢乐的，令人欢欣的 | |
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unnaturalness
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reminder
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| n.提醒物，纪念品；暗示，提示 | |
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killing
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| n.巨额利润；突然赚大钱，发大财 | |
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belly
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| n.肚子，腹部；(像肚子一样)鼓起的部分，膛 | |
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scrunches
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| v.发出喀嚓声( scrunch的第三人称单数 )；蜷缩；压；挤压 | |
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thumps
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| n.猪肺病；砰的重击声( thump的名词复数 )v.重击， （指心脏）急速跳动( thump的第三人称单数 ) | |
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muddle
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| n.困惑，混浊状态；vt.使混乱，使糊涂，使惊呆；vi.胡乱应付，混乱 | |
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sobbing
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| <主方>Ⅰ adj.湿透的 | |
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