Rabbit, Run - By John Updike Page 0,62

bra undone, and it was like a baby gently, her bees (who called them her bees? not Allie) firmer and rounder then, more sensitive; his waiting wet mouth so happy and blind and the birds making their warm noises overhead in the sunshine. Allie blabbed. He had to blab. She forgave him but it made her wiser. She began the older ones; the mistake if there was one but why not? Why not? was the question and still held; wondering if there was a mistake makes her tired just thinking, lying there wet from swimming and seeing red through her eyelids, trying to move back through all that red wondering if she was wrong. She was wise. With them being young did for being pretty, and them being older it wasn’t such a rush. Boy some bastards you think never, like their little contribution’s the greatest thing the world’s ever going to see if it ever gets here.

But this one. What a nut. He had though that mildness. At least he saw you as being there. Boy that first night when he said that so sort of proudly “Hey” she didn’t mind so much going under in fact it felt like she should. She forgave them all then, his face all their faces gathered into a scared blur and it felt like she was falling under to something better than she was. But then after all it turns out he’s not that different, hanging on you all depressed and lovey and then sick of you or less just bored really when it’s done. It’s getting quicker, and quicker, more like a habit, he really hurries now when senses or she tells him she’s lost it. Then she can just lie there and in a way listen and it’s soothing; but then she can’t go to sleep afterward. Some nights he tries to bring her up but she’s just so sleepy and so heavy down there it’s nothing; sometimes she just wants to push him off and shake him and shout, I can’t, you dope, don’t you know you’re a father! But no. She mustn’t tell him. Saying a word would make it final; it’s just been one period and the next is coming up in a day maybe she’ll have it and then she won’t have anything. As much of a mess as it is she doesn’t know how happy that would make her really. At least this way she’s doing something, sending those candy bars down. God she isn’t even sure she doesn’t want it because he wants it from the way he acts, with his damn no stripper just a nice clean piece. She isn’t even sure she didn’t just deliberately bring it on by falling asleep under his arm just to show the smug bastard. For the thing about him he didn’t mind her getting up when he was asleep and crawling into the lousy bathroom just so long as he didn’t have to watch anything or do anything. That was the thing about him, he just lived in his skin and didn’t give a thought to the consequences of anything. Tell him about the candy bars and feeling sleepy he’ll probably get scared and off he’ll go, him and his good clean piece and his cute little God and his cute little minister playing golf every Tuesday. For the damnedest thing about that minister was that, before, Rabbit at least had the idea he was acting wrong but with him he’s got the idea he’s Jesus Christ out to save the world just by doing whatever comes into his head. I’d like to get hold of the bishop or whoever and tell him that minister of his is a menace. Filling poor Rabbit full of something nobody can get at and even now, filling her ear, his soft cocksure voice answers her question with an idle remote smugness that infuriates her so the tears do come.

“I’ll tell you,” he says. “When I ran from Janice I made an interesting discovery.” The tears bubble over her lids and the awful taste of the pool-water is sealed into her mouth. “If you have the guts to be yourself,” he says, “other people’ll pay your price.”

Making awkward calls is agony for Eccles; at least anticipation of them is. Usually, the dream is worse than the reality: so God has disposed the world. The actual presences of people are always bearable. Mrs. Springer is a plump, dark, small-boned woman with