Garden of Eden (5 page)

What
was it that she had said about destruction? He could not remember that. She'd
said it but he could not remember it.

Then
he was tired of trying to remember and he looked at the girl and kissed her
cheek very lightly and she did not wake. He loved her very much and everything
about her and he went to sleep thinking about her cheek against his lips and
how the next day they would both be darker from the sun and how dark can she
become, he thought, and how dark will she ever really be?

IT
WAS LATE AFTERNOON and the small low car came down from the black road across
the hills and headlands with the dark blue ocean always on the right onto a
deserted boulevard that bordered a flat beach of two miles of yellow sand at
Hendaye. Well ahead on the ocean side was the bulk of a big hotel and a casino
and on the left there were newly planted trees and Basque villas white washed
and brown timbered set in their own trees and plantings. The two young people
in the car rode down the boulevard slowly looking out at the magnificent beach
and at the mountains of Spain that showed blue in this light as the car passed
the casino and the big hotel and went on toward the end of the boulevard. Ahead
was the mouth of the river that flowed into the ocean. The tide was out and
across the bright sand they saw the ancient Spanish town and the green hills
across the bay and, at the far point, the lighthouse. They stopped the car.

"It's
a lovely place," the girl said.

"There's
a cafe with tables under the trees," the young man said. "Old
trees."

"The
trees are strange," the girl said. "It's all new planting. I wonder
why they planted mimosas.

"To
compete with where we 'ye come from."

"I
suppose so. It all looks awfully new. But it's a wonderful beach. I never saw
such a big beach in France nor with such smooth and fine sand. Biarritz is a
horror. Let's drive up by the cafe."

They
drove back up the right side of the road. The young man pulled the car to the
curb and killed the ignition. They crossed to the outdoor cafe and it was
pleasant to eat by themselves and be conscious of the people that they did not
know eating at the other tables.

That
night the wind rose and in their corner room high up in the big hotel they
heard the heavy fall of the surf on the beach. In the dark the young man pulled
a light blanket up over the sheet and the girl said, "Aren't you glad we
decided to stay?"

"I
like to hear the surf pound."

"So
do I."

They
lay close together and listened to the sea. Her head was on his chest and she
moved it against his chin and then moved up in the bed and put her cheek
against his and pressed it there. She kissed him and he could feel her hand
touching him.

"That's
good," she said in the darkness. "That's lovely. You're sure you
don't want me to change?"

"Not
now. Now I'm cold. Please hold me warm.

"I
love you when you feel cold against me.

"If
it gets this cold here at night we'll have to wear pyjama tops. That will be
fun for breakfast in bed."

"It's
the Atlantic ocean," she said. "Listen to it."

"We'll
have a good time while we're here," he told her. "If you want we'll
stay a while. If you want we'll go. There are plenty of places to go."

"We
might stay a few days and see."

"Good.
If we do I'd like to start to write."

"That
would be wonderful. We'll look around tomorrow. You could work here in the room
if I were out couldn't you? Until we found some place?"

"Sure."

"You
know you must never worry about me because I love you and we're us against all
the others. Please kiss me," she said.

He
kissed her.

"You
know I haven't done anything bad to us. I had to do it. You know that."

He
did not say anything and listened to the weight of the surf falling on the hard
wet sand in the night.

The
next morning there was still heavy surf and the rain came in gusts. They could
not see the Spanish coast and when it cleared between the driven squalls of
rain and they could see across the angry sea in the bay there were heavy clouds
that came down to the base of the mountains. Catherine had gone out in a
raincoat after breakfast and had left him to work in the room. It had gone so
simply and easily that he thought it was probably worthless. Be careful, he
said to himself, it is all very well for you to write simply and the simpler
the better. But do not start to think so damned simply. Know how complicated it
is and then state it simply. Do you suppose the Grau du Roi time was all simple
because you could write a little of it simply?

He
went on writing in pencil in the cheap, lined, school notebook that was called
a cahier and already numbered one in roman numeral. He stopped finally and put
the notebook in a suitcase with a cardboard box of pencils and the cone-shaped
sharpener, leaving the five pencils he had dulled to point up for the next day,
and took his raincoat from the hanger in the closet and walked down the stairs
to the lobby of the hotel. He looked into the hotel bar which was gloomy and
pleasant in the rain and already had some customers and left his key at the
desk. The assistant concierge reached into the mailbox as he hung up the key
and said, "Madame left this for Monsieur."

He
opened the note which said, David, didn't want to disturb you am at the cafe
love Catherine. He put on the old trench coat, found a boina in the pocket and
walked out of the hotel into the rain.

She
was at a corner table in the small cafe and before her was a clouded
yellow-tinged drink and a plate with one small dark red freshwater crayfish and
the debris of others. She was very far ahead of him. "Where have you been,
stranger?"

"Just
down the road a piece." He noticed that her face was rain-washed and he
concentrated on what rain did to heavily tanned skin. She looked very nice too
in spite of it and he was happy to see her this way.

'Did
you get going?" the girl asked.

"Good
enough."

"You
worked then. That's fine."

The
waiter had been serving three Spaniards who were sitting at a table next to the
door. He came over now holding a glass and an ordinary Pernod bottle and a
small narrow-lipped pitcher of water. There were lumps of ice in the water.
"Pour Monsieur aussi?" he asked.

"Yes,"
the young man said. "Please."

The
waiter poured their high glasses half full of the off-yellow liquid and started
to pour the water slowly into the girl's glass. But the young man said,
"I'll do it," and the waiter took the bottle away. He seemed relieved
to be taking it away and the young man poured the water in a very thin stream
and the girl watched the absinthe cloud opalescently. It felt warm as her
fingers held the glass and then as it lost the yellow cast and began to look
milky it cooled sharply and the young man let the water fall in a drop at a
time. "'Why does it have to go in so slowly?" the girl asked.
"It breaks up and goes to pieces if the water pours in too fast," he
explained. "Then it's flat and worthless. There ought to be a glass on top
with ice and just a little hole for the water to drip. But everybody would know
what it was then." "I had to drink up fast before because two G.N.'s
were in, the girl said.

"Whatyoumacallits
nationals. In khaki with bicycles and black leather pistol holsters. I had to
engulp the evidence." "Engulp?" "Sorry. Once I engulped it
I can't say it." "You want to be careful about absinthe."
"It only makes me feel easier about things." "And nothing else
does?" He finished making the absinthe for her, holding it well short of
mildness. "Go ahead," he told her. "Don't wait for me." She
took a long sip and then he took her glass from her and drank and said,
"Thank you, Ma'am. That puts heart in a man. "So make your own, you
clipping reader," she said. "What was that?" the young man said
to her. "I didn't say it." But she had said it and he said to her,
"Why don't you just shut up about the clippings." "Why?"
she said, leaning toward him and speaking too loudly. "Why should I shut
up? Just because you wrote this morning? Do you think I married you because you
re a writer? You and your clippings." "All right," the young man
said. "Can you tell me the rest of it when we're by ourselves?"
"Don't ever think for a moment I won't," she said.

"I
guess not," he said.

"Don't
guess," she said. "You can be certain.

David
Bourne stood up and went over to the hanger and lifted his raincoat and went
out the door without looking back.

At
the table Catherine raised her glass and tasted the absinthe very carefully and
went on tasting it in little sips.

The
door opened and David came back in and walked up to the table. He was wearing
his trench coat and had his boina pulled low on his forehead. "Do you have
the keys to the car?"

"Yes,"
she said.

"May
I have them?"

She
gave them to him but said, "Don't be stupid, David. It was the rain and
you being the only one who had worked. Sit down."

"Do
you want me to?"

"Please,"
she said.

He
sat down. That didn't make much sense, he thought. You got up to go out and
take the damned car and stay out and the hell with her and then you come back
in and have to ask for the key and then sit down like a slob. He picked up his
glass and took a drink. The drink was good anyway.

"What
are you going to do about lunch?" he asked.

"You
say where and I'll eat it with you. You do still love me, don't you?"

"Don't
be silly."

"That
was a sordid quarrel," Catherine said.

"The
first one

"It
was my fault about the clippings."

"Let's
not mention the god damned clippings."

"That's
what it was all about."

"It
was you thinking about them when you were drinking. Bringing them up because
you were drinking."

"It
sounds like regurgitating," she said. "Awful. Actually my tongue just
slipped making a joke." "You had to have them in your head to bring
them out that way. "All right," she said. "I thought maybe it
was all over. "It is." "Well why do you keep on insisting and
insisting about it for then?" "We shouldn't have taken this
drink." "No. Of course not. Especially me. But you certainly needed
it. Do you think it will do you any good?" "Do we have to do this
now?" he asked. "I'm certainly going to stop it. It bores me."
"That's the one damned word in the language I can't stand."
"Lucky you with only one word like that in the language." "Oh
shit," he said. "Eat lunch by yourself." "No. I won't.
We'll eat lunch together and behave like human beings." "All
right." "I'm sorry. It really was a joke and it just misfired. Truly
David that was all."

THE
TIDE WAS FAR OUT when David Bourne woke and the sun was bright on the beach and
the sea was a dark blue. The hills showed green and new washed and the clouds
had gone from the mountains. Catherine was still sleeping and he looked at her
and watched her regular breathing and the sun on her face and thought, how
strange that the sun on her eyes should not wake her.