Free The Story of My Wife by Milán Füst Page B

by now; they had this whole place to themselves, they could do whatever they wished. That this was no casual friendship I could no longer doubt. That interlude in the café convinced me, though there were other signs as well. For example, my wife said to him: "Give me a match, will you?"
    Just like that. Real intimate. But how does one preserve such evidence? How does one prove after the fact that it was no mistake, this is precisely what happened? Sooner or later you forget yourself. Night comes and you forget. For the words, ah, the words, disappear.
    Once we were upstairs, I put my wife to bed. Her teeth did chatter and she did shiver a little, and though I thought I knew why (obviously because I was still there), I said to myself: Never mind. I'll stay no matter what. As long as I must. As a matter of fact, I felt like making love to her right then and there.
    But she started crying, the woman actually started crying. And when I see that, I simply melt and am no longer responsible for my acts.
    "What's the matter, my precious?" But she just went on crying, inconsolably, like a child. And me, I was trying to pull down her stockings.
    "Don't cry, my sweet," I said, my voice hoarse with desire. (Man is a strange beast, I tell you.) Why not have a beautiful moment, I thought, while our young friend is waiting in the other room? I was giddy with lust by now.
    But she resisted me, which was only natural, turning blood-red as she did. "Let me be, let me be," she hissed. But that aroused me even further. The more she fought, the more I wanted her. Each touch was like a burn, I felt her tears on my face. She tried with all her strength to push me away but of course couldn't.
    "Now, now, you know I won't let you go if I don't want to." And I grabbed her and lifted her, blanket and all. But then she struck me. I stopped.
    I could have broken every bone in her body, of course. And then take a shoetree maybe or a clothes hanger and beat the young man's head until there wasn't a breath of life in him. But flareups like these have a strange effect on me. If a woman goes as far as she did just now, I let her go, I lose all interest. I put her down and started walking toward the door.
    But she began to cry even more desperately, it made no sense to leave; I would have heard her sobs even in the other room.
    So I stayed and began pacing the floor.
    What's making her cry so much, I wondered. What's got into her? Or is that what it is? I happened to glance in the mirror. My eye was bloodshot, she scratched it, the little bitch.
    And there was her blouse, too, a beautiful Chinese silk blouse I brought back from one of my trips, in shreds, completely torn.
    Maybe this is why she is crying, I thought, and smiled. Or was it the hotel business that got her so scared? That they'd be stuck with me for good in this empty, silent apartment?
    "What a horrid man you are," she sobbed. "You take me to that boorish friend of yours and all you do is insult me. And now I am to become an innkeeper's wife."
    I had to laugh.
    "Is that what's eating you?"
    "Oh no."
    "What then?" But she didn't answer.
    It was just as well. What else could have bothered her but the thing I'd already mentioned—the fear that she'd be stuck with me. I knew as much. Saying it would not have made any difference.
    So I continued walking up and down, with a wet handkerchief over my eye, mulling over decisions that seemed pretty final.
    "Tell Dedin I am feeling better and send him home," I heard her say after a while.
    "Yes, ma'm," I replied and bowing slightly, left the room.
    This won't work, I decided. When you are patient and understanding, people take advantage of you. It was a mistake to allow things to go this far. I should have thrown the bum out long ago. I walked into the other room, handkerchief still in place, which he didn't seem to notice. He was reading again.
    "You must be a well-read man. How old are you, anyway?"
    "Thirty."
    "I am forty-two but I bet I could still