By the time we went to sleep that night, we had made love six times. It would have been five, but just as we were drifting off, he suggested we make it an even half dozen. The whole afternoon and evening I experienced a new and wonderful feeling of abandonment: he was like a starving man, and my body was the banquet.
I returned to my apartment Sunday night riding on a balloon even Gloria couldn’t puncture.
“Well, well, look who’s back from the stud farm.”
“Is there anything to eat?”
“Why? Didn’t you have time for that?”
“No, as a matter of fact.”
She looked me up and down, as if overnight I had become defective. I made a sandwich and sat down opposite her while she lacquered her nails. Her intense concentration was an obvious ploy to irritate me.
“And what’s wrong with you?” I said.
“There’s nothing wrong with me. I don’t understand it. I’ve known you four years and I’m just finding out I don’t know you at all.”
“Why? Because I spent two days with a man?”
“With that man.”
“What exactly is wrong with him?”
“That’s just it—you don’t see it. That’s what’s so crazy!”
“Suppose you spell it out for me.”
“Spell it! All right, he’s w-e-i-r-d. You’re way out of his c-l-a-s-s. He can’t function socially, he has no friends except those pathetic creatures he drags in, he’s always got his nose in a book, he looks like he’s never seen sunlight or decent food, or soap and water for that matter.”
“Now wait a minute—”
“His hands are filthy, or didn’t you notice?”
“That is grease on his hands because he works on his car instead of paying some half-wit mechanic to do it.”
“Well, hooray for the handyman. What gets me is you don’t mind being one of that harem.”
“There is no harem. You’re being awfully presumptuous.”
“I suppose those girls are phantoms. And the one we saw in the parking lot—I suppose that’s his sister.”
“He’s discussed all that with me. He just happens to feel sorry for them. That girl we saw is a freshman in the class he teaches. She’s from a small town and she’s having trouble adjusting. She has two horrendous roommates who—”
“Spare me the details. All I’m going to say is I thought you had better sense. I thought it would take only a few dates for the novelty to wear off. And now”—she shivered—“you’ve slept with him.”
“You bet I did,” I said to get even for her shiver. “Slept and slept and slept.”
“Irene, there’s something wrong with him. I can sense it.”
“That analysis is medieval.”
“You listen to me. ‘The kid’ has something to say.”
“ ‘The kid’ has had plenty to say.”
“Be quiet, for a change. I thought you, of all people, would keep your eyes open when you met someone. A good relationship has to be equal, one where both parties bring something valuable to share. The scales have to balance or else someone gets cheated. And it’s always the one who had the most to offer.”