Free Washika by Robert A. Poirier Page A

finishing mine. Would you have a coffee while you wait, Henri?”
    â€œYes, that would be good.”
    â€œCome with me, then.”
    He followed her and, as they walked into the light of the back room, she turned to guide him into the small kitchen and as she did so he could see the shape of her breasts and her legs through the pink of the nightgown.
    â€œYou take sugar and cream?” she said.
    â€œYes, that’s fine.”
    Henri sat at the varnished wood table. The nurse set a place mat in front of him. She brought a cup and saucer with a spoon and placed two small porcelain bowls near them. Henri looked at her hands as she poured coffee from the glass coffeepot. She sat across the table from Henri. There were orange peelings on the place mat and she ate cereal from a white porcelain bowl. Henri added sugar and cream and stirred his coffee with the spoon. He had never felt this way before.
    â€œ Mademoiselle Archambault?”
    â€œYes?”
    â€œI was wondering. Maybe I could. Well, what if I were to call you Lise?”
    She looked up at Henri.
    â€œYes. If you like,” she said.
    The nurse smiled and Henri looked at her green eyes and how her hair was parted in the middle and flowed down both sides of her head, curving around her cheeks to her neck and shoulders and down her back. Her hands were tanned, like her face. Henri wondered about that. Where would she go to get a tan like that?
    Henri drank the coffee. He looked around the room, at the varnished walls and the white refrigerator and stove and the pine cabinets on the wall. At one end of the kitchen there was a couch with lace-covered cushions and, in front of the couch, was a low table with a small bowl of yellow flowers on it. Beyond the couch was a closed door.
    â€œLise?”
    â€œYes, Henri?”
    â€œYou like it here? Working at Washika?”
    â€œIt is not so bad.”
    â€œYou must be well paid, being a nurse.”
    â€œYes, the salary is quite good.”
    â€œSomeday, when I finish school, I’ll have a job. I’ll have a job that pays well and a car. A sports car, you know, like a racing car with spokes on the wheels, and no top.”
    They both laughed. Lise got up from the table and gathered the dishes and utensils and placed them in the sink. She ran water over a cloth and passed it several times over the place mat.
    â€œYou would like another coffee, Henri?”
    â€œNo, thank you.”
    â€œWell, if you will excuse me, I will go and change.”
    â€œLise?” How he loved to say her name like that.
    â€œYes?” she said, as she entered the bedroom.
    â€œWould you like me to wait on the other side?”
    â€œNo, Henri. Finish your coffee. I will be only a minute.”
    Henri drank the coffee. The door to the bedroom was open, he could see the light was on and he could hear the nightgown being slid off her shoulders. Perhaps she would be angry. She might even see Monsieur Simard-Comtois about it. But, what if it was not like that? He would hate himself after. There was not much time. In fact, there was only now.
    â€œLise?” he said.
    â€œYes, Henri?” she called from the bedroom.
    â€œLise, would you mind if I came in?”
    There, he had said it. It was quiet in the kitchen. Only the clock was ticking on top of the refrigerator. The ticking seemed to grow louder with each passing second.
    â€œIf you like, Henri,” she said, at last.
    Henri went into the bedroom. The room smelled of her hair and it was dark except for a lamp by the bed. Lise stood by the bed, in front of the lamp. She was naked and she stood with her head bowed so that her hair covered the side of her face. She was beautiful. Henri had never seen anyone so beautiful. He had seen naked women before, in the magazines, with their slim legs and flat bellies but, here, standing in front of him, was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.
    Henri began to unbutton his shirt. He could not