Free The Man Who Fell to Earth by Walter Tevis Page A

said. “It’s pretty good. Sweet.”
    “No,” he said. “No. But I’ll be glad to have some wine with you.”
    “Sure, Tommy.” She got up, staggering a bit, and went to the kitchen for his bottle of Sauterne and his crystal glass. “You don’t need me,” she called, from the kitchen.
    His voice was solemn. “Why yes I do. Betty Jo.”
    She came back in, standing close to him as she handed him the glass. He was such a nice man. She felt almost ashamed of herself wanting to seduce him, as though he were a baby. She could not help being drunkenly amused. He probably didn’t know what it was all about. He was the kind that probably peed in a silver pot when he was little and ran away if a girl tried to touch him. Or maybe he was queer—anybody who sat around reading all the time and looked like he did… But he didn’t talk like a queer. She liked to hear him talk. He looked tired now. But he looked tired all the time.
    He sat down, painfully, in the armchair, and set his cane on the floor beside him. She sat on the couch and then lay back on her side, facing him. He was looking at her but he hardly seemed to see her. When he looked that way it made her feel creepy. “I’m wearing new clothes.” she said.
    “So you are.”
    “Yeah. So I am.” She laughed self-consciously. “The pants was sixty-five and the blouse was fifty, and I bought gold undies and earrings.” She raised a leg to show off the bright-red pants and then scratched her knee through the cloth. “With the money you been giving me I could dress like a movie star if I wanted to. I could get my face fixed, you know, and take off weight and all.” She felt her earrings for a minute, thoughtfully, tugging at them and running her thumbnail across the soft, metallic gold, enjoying the little hints of pain on her earlobes. “But I don’t know. I been sloppy for a long time. Ever since me and Barney went on welfare and Medicare and all I let myself go and, hell, you get so you like it that way.”
    He said nothing for a while and they sat in silence while she finished her drink. Finally he said, “Will you come with me to the new house?”
    She stretched and yawned, beginning to feel tired. “You sure you really need me?”
    For a moment he blinked at her and his face looked a way she had never seen it look before, as if he were pleading with her. “Yes, I do need you,” he said. “I know very few people….”
    “Sure,” she said. “I’ll come.” She gestured tiredly. “I’d be a damn fool not to, anyway, since I imagine you’ll pay me twice as much as I’m worth.”
    “Good.” His face relaxed a little and he settled back in his chair and picked up a book.
    Before he could get started in it she recalled her plans, already cool by now, and after a moment of reluctant doubt she made a final try. But she was sleepy and her heart wasn’t in it. “Are you married, Tommy?” she asked. It should have been a pretty obvious question.
    If he had any idea of what she was driving at he didn’t show it. “Yes, I’m married,” he said, politely putting his book in his lap and looking over at her.
    Embarrassed, she said, “I just wanted to know.” And then, “What does she look like? Your wife?”
    “Oh, she resembles me, I imagine. Tall and thin.”
    Somehow her embarrassment was turning into irritation. She finished off her drink and said, “I used to be thin,” almost with defiance. Then, tired of it, she stood up and walked over to her bedroom door. The whole thing had been silly anyway. And maybe he was queer—being married didn’t prove anything that way. Anyway he was peculiar. A nice, rich man, but weird as green milk. Still irritated she said, “Good night,” and went into her room and began peeling off her expensive clothes. Then she sat on the edge of the bed a moment, in her nightgown, thinking. She was much more comfortable with the tight clothes off, and when she finally lay down, her mind now blank, she had no