cb.imajica1-第27章

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　〃We're　all　sealed　up；〃　Klein　said。　〃Nothing　can　get　in。〃
　〃So　are　women。　What's　the…〃
　〃Women　get　fucked；〃　Klein　interrupted；　pronouncing　the　word　with　a　drunken　ripeness。　〃Oh；　you　bitch　about　it；　but　you　love　it。　Go　on；　admit　it。　You　love　it。〃
　〃So　all　men　really　want　is　to　get　fucked；　is　that　it？〃　Jude　said。　〃Or　are　you　just　talking　personally？〃
　This　brought　a　ripple　of　laughter　from　those　who'd　given　up　their　chitchat　to　watch　the　fireworks。
　〃Not　literally；〃　Klein　spat　back。　〃You're　not　listening　to　me。〃
　〃I'm　listening。　You're　just　not　making　any　sense。〃
　〃Take　the　church…〃
　〃Fuck　the　church！〃
　〃No；　listen！〃　Klein　said；　teeth　clenched。　〃I'm　telling　God's　honest　fucking　truth　here。　Why　do　you　think　men　invented　the　church；　huh？　Huh？〃
　His　bombast　had　infuriated　Jude　to　the　point　where　she　refused　to　reply。　He　went　on；　unperturbed；　talking　pedantically；　as　if　to　a　slow　student。
　〃Men　invented　the　church　so　they　could　bleed　for　Christ。　So　they　could　be　entered　by　the　Holy　Spirit。　So　they　could　be　saved　from　being　sealed　up。〃　His　lesson　finished；　he　leaned　back　in　his　chair；　raising　his　glass。　〃In　vodka　veri…tas；〃　he　said。
　〃In　vodka　shit；〃　Jude　replied。
　〃Well；　that's　just　typical　of　you；　isn't　it？〃　Klein's　words　slurred。　〃As　soon　as　you're　fucking　beaten　you　start　the　insults。〃
　She　turned　from　him；　shaking　her　head　dismissively。　But　he　still　had　a　barb　in　his　armory。
　〃Is　that　how　you　drive　the　Bastard　Boy　crazy？〃　he　said。
　She　turned　back　on　him；　stung。　〃Keep　him　out　of　this；〃　she　snapped。
　〃You　want　to　see　sealed　up？〃　Klein　said。　〃There's　your　example。　He's　out　of　his　head；　you　know　that？〃
　〃Who　cares？〃　she　said。　〃If　he　wants　to　have　a　nervous　breakdown；　he　can　have　one。〃
　〃How　very　humanitarian　of　you。〃
　She　stood　up　at　this　juncture；　knowing　she　was　perilously　close　to　losing　her　temper　pletely。
　〃I　know　the　Bastard　Boy's　excuse；〃　Klein　went　on。　〃He's　anemic。　He's　only　got　enough　blood　for　his　brain　or　his　prick。　If　he　gets　a　hard…on；　he　can't　remember　his　own　name。〃
　〃I　wouldn't　know；〃　Jude　said；　swilling　the　ice　around　in　her　glass。
　〃Is　that　your　excuse　too？〃　Klein　went　on。　〃Have　you　got　something　down　there　you　haven't　been　telling　us　about？〃
　〃If　I　had；〃　she　said；　〃you'd　be　the　last　to　know。〃
　And　so　saying；　she　deposited　her　drink；　ice　and　all；　down　the　front　of　his　open　shirt。
　She　regretted　it　afterwards；　of　course；　and　she　drove　home　trying　to　invent　some　way　of　making　peace　with　him　without　apologizing。　Unable　to　think　of　any；　she　decided　to　let　it　lie。　She'd　had　arguments　with　Klein　before；　drunk　and　sober。　They　were　forgotten　after　a　month；　two　at　most。
　She　got　in　to　find　more　messages　from　Estabrook　awaiting　her。　He　wasn't　sobbing　any　more。　His　voice　was　a　colorless　dirge；　delivered　from　what　was　clearly　genuine　despair。　The　first　call　was　filled　with　the　same　pleas　she'd　heard　before。　He　told　her　he　was　losing　his　mind　without　her　and　needed　her　with　him。　Wouldn't　she　at　least　talk　to　him；　let　him　explain　himself？　The　second　call　was　less　coherent。　He　said　she　didn't　understand　how　many　secrets　he　had；　how　he　was　smothered　in　secrets　and　it　was　killing　him。　Wouldn't　she　e　back　to　see　him；　he　said；　even　if　it　was　just　to　collect　her　clothes？
　That　was　probably　the　only　part　of　her　exit　scene　she　would　rewrite　if　she　could　play　it　over　again。　In　her　rage　she'd　left　a　goodly　collection　of　personal　items；　jewelry　and　clothes；　in　Estabrook's　possession。　Now　she　imagined　him　sobbing　over　them；　sniffing　them；　God　knows；　even　wearing　them。　But　peeved　as　she　was　not　to　have　taken　them　with　her；　she　was　not　about　to　bargain　for　them　now。　There　would　e　a　time　when　she　felt　calm　enough　to　go　back　and　empty　the　cupboards　and　the　drawers；　but　not　quite　yet。
　There　were　no　further　calls　after　that　night。　With　the　New　Year　almost　upon　her；　it　was　time　to　turn　her　attention　to　the　challenge　of　earning　a　crust　e　January。　She'd　given　up　her　job　at　Vandenburgh's　when　Estabrook　had　proposed　marriage；　and　she'd　enjoyed　his　money　freely　while　they　were　together；　trusting…naively；　no　doubt…that　if　they　ever　broke　up　he'd　deal　with　her　in　an　honorable　fashion。　She　hadn't　anticipated　either　the　profound　unease　that　had　finally　driven　her　from　his　side　（the　sense　that　she　was　almost　owned；　and　that　if　she　stayed　with　him　a　moment　longer　she'd　never　unshackle　herself）　or　the　vehemence　of　his　revenge。　Again；　there'd　e　a　time　when　she　felt　able　to　deal　with　the　mutual　mud…slinging　of　a　divorce；　but；　like　the　business　with　the　clothes；　she　wasn't　ready　for　that　turmoil　yet；　even　though　she　could　hope　for　some　monies　from　such　a　settlement。　In　the　meanwhile；　she　had　to　think　about　employment。
　Then；　on　December　thirtieth；　she　received　a　call　from　Estabrook's　lawyer；　Lewis　Leader；　a　man　she'd　met　only　once　but　who　was　memorable　for　his　loquaciousness。　It　was　not　in　evidence　on　this　occasion；　however。　He　signaled　what　she　assumed　was　his　distaste　for　her　desertion　of　his　client　with　a　manner　that　teetered　on　the　rude。　Did　she　know；　he　asked　her；　that　Estabrook　had　been　hospitalized？　When　she　told　him　she　didn't；　he　replied　that　though　he　was　sure　she　didn't　give　a　damn；　he'd　been　charged　with　the　duty　of　informing　her。　She　asked　him　what　had　happened。　He　briskly　explained　that　Estabrook　had　been　found　in　the　street　in　the　early　hours　of　the　twenty…eighth；　wearing　only　one　item　of　clothing。　He　didn't　specify　what。
　〃Is　he　hurt？〃　she　asked。
　〃Not　physically；〃　Leader　replied。　〃But　mentally　he's　in　a　bad　state。　I　thought　you　ought　to　know；　even　though　I'm　sure　he　wouldn't　want　to　see　you。〃
　〃I'm　sure　you're　right；〃　Jude　said。
　〃For　what　it's　worth；〃　Leader　said；　〃he　deserved　better　than　this。〃
　He　signed　off　with　that　platitude；　leaving　Jude　to　ponder　on　why　it　was　that　the　men　she　mated　with　turned　out　to　be　crazy。　Just　two　days　earlier　she'd　been　predicting　that　Gentle　would　soon　be　in　the　throes　of　a　nervous　breakdown。　Now　it　was　Estabrook　who　was　under　sedation。　Was　it　her　presence　in　their　lives　that　drove　them　to　it；　or　was　the　lunacy　in　their　blood？　She　contemplated　calling　Gentle　at　the　studio；　to　see　that　he　was　all　right；　but　decided　against　it。　He　had　his　painting　to　make　love　to；　and　she　was　damned　if　she　was　going　to　pete　for　his　attention　with　a　piece　of　canvas。
　One　useful　possibility　did　spring　from　the　news　Leader　had　brought。　With　Estabrook　in　the　hospital；　there　was　nothing　to　stop　her　from　visiting　the　house　and　picking　up　her　belongings。　It　was　an　apt　project　for　the　last　day　of　December。　She'd　gather　the　remnants　of　her　life　from　the　lair　of　her　husband　and　prepare　to　begin　the　New　Year　alone。
　
　He　hadn't　changed　the　lock；　perhaps　in　the　hope　that　she'd　e　back　one　night　and　slip　into　bed　beside　him。　But　as　she　entered　the　house　she　couldn't　shake　the　feeling　of　being　a　burglar。　It　was　gloomy　outside；　and　she　switched　on　all　the　lights；　but　the　rooms　seemed　to　resist　illumination；　as　though　the　smell　of　spoiled　food；　which　was　pungent；　was　thickening　the　air。　She　braved　the　kitchen　in　search　of　something　to　drink；　before　she　began　her　packing；　and　found　plates　of　rotting　food　stacked　on　every　surface；　most　of　them　barely　picked　at。　She　opened　first　a　window　and　then　the　refrigerator；　where　there　were　further　rancid　goods。　There　was　also　ice　and　water。　She　put　both　into　a　clean　glass　and　got　about　her　work。
　There　was　as　much　disarray　upstairs　as　down。　Estabrook　had　apparently　lived　in　squalor　since　her　departure：　the　bed　they'd　shared　a　swamp　of　filthy　sheets；　the　floor　littered　with　soiled　linen。　There　was　no　sign　of　any　of　her　clothes　among　these　heaps；　however；　and　when　she　went　through　to　the　adjacent　dressing　room　she　found　them　all　hanging　in　place；　untouched。　Determined　to　be　done　with　this　distasteful　business　in　as　short　a　time　as　possible；　she　found　herself　a　set　of　suitcases　and　proceeded　to　pack。　It　didn't　take　long。　With　that　labor　performed　she　emptied　her　belongings　from　the　drawers　and　packed　those。　Her　jewelry　was　in　the　safe　downstairs；　and　it　was　there　she　went　once　she'd　finished　in　the　bedroom；　leaving　the　cases　by　the　front　door　to　be　picked　up　as　she　left。　Though　she　knew　where　Estabrook　kept　the　key　to　the　safe；　she'd　never　opened　it　herself。　It　was　a　ritual　he'd　demanded　be　rigorously　observed　that　on　a　night　when　she　was　to　wear　one　of　the　pieces　he'd　given　her　he'd　first　ask　her　which　she　favored；　then　go　and　get　it　from　the　safe　and　put　it　around　her　neck；　or　wrist；　or　slip　it　through　the　lobe　of　her　ear　himself。　With　hindsight；　a　blatant　power　play。　She　wondered　what　kind　of　fugue　state　she'd　been　in　when　sharing　his　pany；　that　she'd　endured　such　idiocies　for　so　long。　Certainly　the　luxuries　he'd　bestowed　upon　her　had　been　pleasurable；　but　why　had　she　played　his　game　so　passively？　It　was　grotesque。
　The　key　to　the　safe　was　where　she'd　expected　it　to　be；　secreted　at　the　back　of　the　desk　drawer　in　his　study。　The　safe　itself　was　behind　an　architectural　drawing　on　the　study　wall；　several　elevations　of　a　pseudoclassical　folly　the　artist　had　simply　marked　as　The　Retreat。　It　was　far　more　elaborately　framed　than　its　merit　deserved；　and　she　had　some　difficulty　lifting　it。　But　she　eventually　succeeded　and　got　into　the　safe　it　had　concealed。
　There　were　two　shelves；　the　lower　crammed　with　papers；　the　upper　with　small　parcels*　among　which　she　assumed　she　would　find　her　belongings。　She　took　everything　out　and　laid　it　all　on　the　desk；　curiosity　overtaking　the　desire　to　have　what　was　hers　and　be　gone。　Two　of　the　packages　clearly　contained　her　jewelry；　but　the　other　three　were　far　more　intriguing；　not　least　because　they　were　wrapped　in　a　fabric　as　fine　as　silk　and　smelled　not　of　the　safe's　must　but　of　a　sweet；　almost　sickly；　spice。　She　opened　the　largest　of　them　first。　It　contained　a　manuscript；　made　up　of　vellum　pages　sewn　together　with　an　elaborate　stitch。　It　had　no　cover　to　speak　of　but　seemed　to　be　an　arbitrarily　arrayed　collection　of　sheets；　their　subject　an　anatomical　treatise；　or　at　least　so　she　first　assumed。　On　second　glance　she　realized　it　was　not　a　surgeon's　manual　at　all　but　a　pillow　book；　depicting　lovemaking　positions　and　techniques。　Leafing　through　it　she　sincerely　hoped　the　artist　was　locked　up　where　he　could　not　attempt　to　put　these　fantasies　into　practice。　Human　flesh　was　neither　malleable　nor　protean　enough　to　re…create　what　his　brush　and　ink　had　set　on　the　pages。　There　were　couples　intertwined　like　quarreling　squid；　others　who　seemed　to　have　been　blessed　（or　cursed）　with　organs　and　orifices　of　such　strangeness　and　in　such　profusion　they　were　barely　recognizable　as　human。
　She　flicked　back　and　forth　through　the　sheets；　her　interest　returning　her　to　the　double…page　illustration　at　the　center；　which　was　laid　out　sequentially。　The　first　picture　showed　a　naked　man　and　woman　of　perfectly　normal　appearance；　the　woman　lying　with　her　head　on　a　pillow　while　the　man　knelt　between　her　legs；　applying　his　tongue　to　the　underside　of　her　foot。　From　that　innocent　beginning；　a　cannibalistic　union　ensued；　the　male　beginning　to　devour　the　woman；　starting　with　her　legs；　while　his　partner　obliged　him　with　the　same　act　of　devotion。　Their　antics　defied　both　physics　and　physique；　of　course；　but　the　artist　had　succeeded　in　rendering　the　act　without