Suffer the Children - By John Saul Page 0,12

from the bed.

“God damn you,” Rose snarled. “God damn you to hell for the no-good man you are!” There was no laughter in her eyes now, only a blinding rage that frightened Jack.

“Rose—” he began. But she got up swiftly, her sudden movement cutting off his plea, and stood opposite him as though the bed had suddenly become a battlefield.

“Don’t ‘Rose’ me, you bastard. Do you think that’s what I need?”

“I’m sorry,” Jack began again.

“You’re always sorry. That’s all I’ve heard for a year now. Did you know it’s been a year? I’ve been keeping track!”

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“Didn’t I? Why not? So you’d never have to know how long it’s been since you made love to your wife? So you wouldn’t have to know how long it’s been since you acted like a man?”

“That’s enough, Rose,” Jack said.

“It’s not enough,” she shot back, her voice rising. “It won’t be enough till you get through this thing, whatever it is. Look at me. Aren’t I attractive any more?” She stripped the nightgown off and stood before him, naked, the moonlight streaming through the window to bathe her pale form in an almost metallic hue, the high breasts jutting out above the narrow waist, the full hips tapering into her long, lithe legs.

“Well,” she demanded as Jack stared at her. “What about it? Have I turned into some sort of pig?” Jack shook his head, saying nothing. “Well then, what is it? What’s happened to you? If it isn’t me, it must be you. What’s wrong with you, Jack?”

Again he shook his head. “I—I can’t tell you, Rose. I’m not sure I know.”

“Then shall I tell you?” There was a note of malevolence in her voice that frightened him. He moved back a step, then sank into a chair, waiting. Rose began pacing the room, her eyes wild. She seemed to be casting about, wondering where to start, and for a second Jack waited, trying to fathom the direction from which the attack would come.

“It’s the money, isn’t it?” she demanded. Safe, he thought “You just can’t stand the idea that the fortune’s gone, can you? That you, the last of the Congers, actually has to work, not for the fun of it, but for the money?” She stared at him as if waiting for a defense, then plunged on. “Well, when are you going to learn that it doesn’t matter? There’s enough left to pay the taxes on this place, though God knows why we even need it, and between us we certainly make enough to pay for whatever we need. It’s not as if we were poor, for God’s sake. And even if we were, so what? You don’t have to be rich to be a man, damn it!”

He sat silently, knowing what was coming next Rose didn’t disappoint him.

“Or is it me? Do you feel like I’ve cut your balls off by making more money than you do? I happen to be good at my job, Jack, and you should be proud of that. But not you! Oh, no! You take it as some kind of personal threat to your manhood. Christ, I begin to understand what all those liberationists are talking about. You do resent a successful woman. Well, let me tell you something. Do you want to know why I went to work in the first place? I was bored, Jack, just plain bored.”

“Rose, we’ve been all through this—”

“And we’ll go through it again.” Suddenly she sank onto the bed, her rage spent. “We’ll go through it till we get to the bottom of it.” The tears started, and Rose buried her face in her hands. “I don’t know how much more I can stand, Jack. I really don’t. I’m sorry I said I was bored. It wasn’t that I was really just frustrated.” She looked up, as if imploring him to understand. “Jack, it’s terrible to love a man who doesn’t love you.”

“That’s not it, Rose,” he said softly. “I love you very much. I always have.”

She sighed. “Well, it’s a strange way you show it I don’t know what to do. Sometimes I think it would help if I quit my job. But it’s too late for that now.” She smiled thinly. “Do you know what it’s like to be successful? It’s intoxicating. You want more, and more. And I’m going to have more, Jack. I don’t get anything at home any more, so I have to have some fulfillment somewhere else.”

“If

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