Murray and I walked across campus in our European manner, a serenely1 reflective pace, heads lowered as weconversed. Sometimes one of us gripped the other near the elbow, a gesture of intimacy2 and physical support. Othertimes we walked slightly apart, Murray's hands clasped behind his back, Gladney's folded monkishly3 at the abdomen,a somewhat worried touch.
"Your German is coming around?""I still speak it badly. The words give me trouble. Howard and I are working on opening remarks for the conference.""You call him Howard?""Not to his face. I don't call him anything to his face and he doesn't call me anything to my face. It's that kind ofrelationship. Do you see him at all? You live under the same roof, after all.""Fleeting4 glimpses. The other boarders seem to prefer it that way. He barely exists, we feel.""There's something about him. I'm not sure what it is exactly.""He's flesh-colored," Murray said.
"True. But that's not what makes me uneasy.""Soft hands.""Is that it?""Soft hands in a man give me pause. Soft skin in general. Baby skin. I don't think he shaves.""What else?" I said.
"Flecks of dry spittle at the corners of his mouth.""You're right," I said excitedly. "Dry spit. I feel it hit me in the face when he leans forward to articulate. What else?""And a way of looking over a person's shoulder.""You see all this in fleeting glimpses. Remarkable5. What else?" I demanded.
"And a rigid6 carriage that seems at odds7 with his shuffling8 walk.""Yes, he walks without moving his arms. What else, what else?""And something else, something above and beyond all this, something eerie9 and terrible.""Exactly. But what is it? Something I can't quite identify.""There's a strange air about him, a certain mood, a sense, a presence, an emanation.""But what?" I said, surprised to find myself deeply and personally concerned, colored dots dancing at the edge of myvision.
We'd walked thirty paces when Murray began to nod. I watched his face as we walked. He nodded crossing the streetand kept nodding all the way past the music library. I walked with him step for step, clutching his elbow, watchinghis face, waiting for him to speak, not interested in the fact that he'd taken me completely out of my way, and he wasstill nodding as we approached the entrance to Wilmot Grange, a restored nineteenth-century building at the edge ofthe campus.
"But what?" I said. "But what?"It wasn't until four days later that he called me at home, at one in the morning, to whisper helpfully in my ear, "Helooks like a man who finds dead bodies erotic."I went to one last lesson. The walls and windows were obscured by accumulated objects, which seemed now to beedging toward the middle of the room. The bland-faced man before me closed his eyes and spoke10, reciting usefultourist phrases. "Where am I?" "Can you help me?" "It is night and I am lost." I could hardly bear to sit there.
Murray's remark fixed11 him forever to a plausible12 identity. What had been elusive13 about Howard Dunlop was nowpinned down. What had been strange and half creepy was now diseased. A grim lasciviousness14 escaped his body andseemed to circulate through the barricaded15 room.
In truth I would miss the lessons. I would also miss the dogs, the German shepherds. One day they were simply gone.
Needed elsewhere perhaps or sent back to the desert to sharpen their skills. The men in Mylex suits were still around,however, carrying instruments to measure and probe, riding through town in teams of six or eight in chunky peglikevehicles that resembled Lego toys.
I stood by Wilder's bed watching him sleep. The voice next door said: "In the four-hundred-thousand-dollar NabiscoDinah Shore."This was the night the insane asylum16 burned down. Heinrich and I got in the car and went to watch. There were othermen at the scene with their adolescent boys. Evidently fathers and sons seek fellowship at such events. Fires helpdraw them closer, provide a conversational17 wedge. There is equipment to appraise18, the technique of firemen todiscuss and criticize. The manliness19 of firefighting—the virility20 of fires, one might say—suits the kind of laconicdialogue that fathers and sons can undertake without awkwardness or embarrassment21.
"Most of these fires in old buildings start in the electrical wiring," Heinrich said. "Faulty wiring. That's one phraseyou can't hang around for long without hearing.""Most people don't burn to death," I said. 'They die of smoke inhalation."'That's the other phrase," he said.
Flames roared through the dormers. We stood across the street watching part of the roof give way, a tall chimneyslowly fold and sink. Pumper trucks kept arriving from other towns, the men descending22 heavily in their rubber bootsand old-fashioned hats. Hoses were manned and trained, a figure rose above the shimmering23 roof in the grip of atelescopic ladder. We watched the portico24 begin to go, a far column leaning. A woman in a fiery25 nightgown walkedacross the lawn. We gasped26, almost in appreciation27. She was white-haired and slight, fringed in burning air, and wecould see she was mad, so lost to dreams and furies that the fire around her head seemed almost incidental. No onesaid a word. In all the heat and noise of detonating wood, she brought a silence to her. How powerful and real. Howdeep a thing was madness. A fire captain hurried toward her, then circled out slightly, disconcerted, as if she were notthe person, after all, he had expected to meet here. She went down in a white burst, like a teacup breaking. Four menwere around her now, batting at the flames with helmets and caps.
The great work of containing the blaze went on, a labor28 that seemed as old and lost as cathedral-building, the mendriven by a spirit of lofty communal29 craft. A Dalmatian sat in the cab of a hook-and-ladder truck.
"It's funny how you can look at it and look at it," Heinrich said. "Just like a fire in a fireplace.""Are you saying the two kinds of fire are equally compelling?""I'm just saying you can look and look.""'Man has always been fascinated by fire.' Is that what you're saying?""This is my first burning building. Give me a chance," he said.
The fathers and sons crowded the sidewalk, pointing at one or another part of the half gutted30 structure. Murray,whose rooming house was just yards away, sidled up to us and shook our hands without a word. Windows blew out.
We watched another chimney slip through the roof, a few loose bricks tumbling to the lawn. Murray shook our handsagain, then disappeared.
Soon there was a smell of acrid31 matter. It could have been insulation32 burning—polystyrene sheathing33 for pipes andwires— or one or more of a dozen other substances. A sharp and bitter stink34 filled the air, overpowering the odor ofsmoke and charred35 stone. It changed the mood of the people on the sidewalk. Some put hankies to their faces, othersleft abruptly36 in disgust. Whatever caused the odor, I sensed that it made people feel betrayed. An ancient, spaciousand terrible drama was being compromised by something unnatural37, some small and nasty intrusion. Our eyes beganto burn. The crowd broke up. It was as though we'd been forced to recognize the existence of a second kind of death.
One was real, the other synthetic38. The odor drove us away but beneath it and far worse was the sense that death cametwo ways, sometimes at once, and how death entered your mouth and nose, how death smelled, could somehowmake a difference to your soul.
We hurried to our cars, thinking of the homeless, the mad, the dead, but also of ourselves now. This is what the odorof that burning material did. It complicated our sadness, brought us closer to the secret of our own eventual39 end.
At home I fixed warm milk for us both. I was surprised to see him drink it. He gripped the mug with both hands,talked about the noise of the conflagration40, the air-fed wallop of combustion41, like a ramjet thrusting. I almostexpected him to thank me for the nice fire. We sat there drinking our milk. After a while he went into his closet tochin.
I sat up late thinking of Mr. Gray. Gray-bodied, staticky, unfinished. The picture wobbled and rolled, the edges of hisbody flared42 with random43 distortion. Lately I'd found myself thinking of him often. Sometimes as Mr. Gray thecomposite. Four or more grayish figures engaged in a pioneering work. Scientists, visionaries. Their wavy44 bodiespassing through each other, mingling45, blending, fusing. A little like extraterrestrials. Smarter than the rest of us,selfless, sexless, determined46 to engineer us out of our fear. But when the bodies fused 1 was left with a single figure,the project manager, a hazy47 gray seducer48 moving in ripples49 across a motel room. Bedward, plotward. I saw my wifereclining on her side, voluptuously50 rounded, the eternal waiting nude51. I saw her as he did. Dependent, submissive,emotionally captive. I felt his mastery and control. The dominance of his postion. He was taking over my mind, thisman I'd never seen, this half image, the barest smidge of brainlight. His bleak52 hands enfolded a rose-white breast.
How vivid and living it was, what a tactile53 delight, dusted with russet freckles54 about the tip. I experienced auraltorment. Heard them in their purling foreplay, the love babble55 and buzzing flesh. Heard the sloppings and smackings,the swash of wet mouths, bedsprings sinking in. An interval56 of mumbled57 adjustments. Then gloom moved in aroundthe gray-sheeted bed, a circle slowly closing.
Panasonic.
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serenely
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| adv.安详地，宁静地，平静地 | |
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intimacy
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| n.熟悉，亲密，密切关系，亲昵的言行 | |
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monkishly
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| adj.僧侣的，修道士的，禁欲的 | |
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fleeting
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| adj.短暂的，飞逝的 | |
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remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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rigid
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| adj.严格的，死板的；刚硬的，僵硬的 | |
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odds
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| n.让步，机率，可能性，比率；胜败优劣之别 | |
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shuffling
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| adj. 慢慢移动的, 滑移的 动词shuffle的现在分词形式 | |
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eerie
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| adj.怪诞的；奇异的；可怕的；胆怯的 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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plausible
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| adj.似真实的，似乎有理的，似乎可信的 | |
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elusive
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| adj.难以表达(捉摸)的；令人困惑的；逃避的 | |
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lasciviousness
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barricaded
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| 设路障于，以障碍物阻塞( barricade的过去式和过去分词 )； 设路障[防御工事]保卫或固守 | |
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asylum
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| n.避难所，庇护所，避难 | |
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conversational
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| adj.对话的，会话的 | |
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appraise
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| v.估价，评价，鉴定 | |
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manliness
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| 刚毅 | |
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virility
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| n.雄劲，丈夫气 | |
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embarrassment
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| n.尴尬；使人为难的人(事物)；障碍；窘迫 | |
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descending
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| n. 下行 adj. 下降的 | |
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shimmering
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| v.闪闪发光，发微光( shimmer的现在分词 ) | |
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portico
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| n.柱廊，门廊 | |
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fiery
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| adj.燃烧着的，火红的；暴躁的；激烈的 | |
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gasped
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| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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appreciation
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| n.评价；欣赏；感谢；领会，理解；价格上涨 | |
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labor
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| n.劳动，努力，工作，劳工；分娩；vi.劳动，努力，苦干；vt.详细分析；麻烦 | |
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communal
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| adj.公有的，公共的，公社的，公社制的 | |
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gutted
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| adj.容易消化的v.毁坏（建筑物等）的内部( gut的过去式和过去分词 )；取出…的内脏 | |
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acrid
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| adj.辛辣的，尖刻的，刻薄的 | |
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insulation
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| n.隔离；绝缘；隔热 | |
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sheathing
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| n.覆盖物，罩子v.将（刀、剑等）插入鞘( sheathe的现在分词 )；包，覆盖 | |
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stink
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| vi.发出恶臭；糟透，招人厌恶；n.恶臭 | |
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charred
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| v.把…烧成炭( char的过去式)；烧焦 | |
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abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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unnatural
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| adj.不自然的；反常的 | |
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synthetic
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| adj.合成的，人工的；综合的；n.人工制品 | |
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eventual
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| adj.最后的，结局的，最终的 | |
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conflagration
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| n.建筑物或森林大火 | |
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combustion
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| n.燃烧；氧化；骚动 | |
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Flared
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| adj. 端部张开的, 爆发的, 加宽的, 漏斗式的 动词flare的过去式和过去分词 | |
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random
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| adj.随机的；任意的；n.偶然的(或随便的)行动 | |
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wavy
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| adj.有波浪的，多浪的，波浪状的，波动的，不稳定的 | |
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mingling
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| adj.混合的 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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hazy
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| adj.有薄雾的，朦胧的；不肯定的，模糊的 | |
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seducer
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| n.诱惑者,骗子,玩弄女性的人 | |
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ripples
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| 逐渐扩散的感觉( ripple的名词复数 ) | |
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voluptuously
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| adv.风骚地，体态丰满地 | |
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nude
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| adj.裸体的；n.裸体者，裸体艺术品 | |
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bleak
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| adj.(天气)阴冷的；凄凉的；暗淡的 | |
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tactile
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| adj.触觉的，有触觉的，能触知的 | |
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freckles
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| n.雀斑，斑点( freckle的名词复数 ) | |
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babble
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| v.含糊不清地说，胡言乱语地说，儿语 | |
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interval
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| n.间隔，间距；幕间休息，中场休息 | |
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mumbled
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| 含糊地说某事，叽咕，咕哝( mumble的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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