生命不能承受之轻-第30部分

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　boy。
She　fixed　him　with　a　long；　careful；　searching　stare　that　was　not　devoid　of　irony's　intelligent　sparkle。　Come　in；　Doctor；　she　said。
Although　he　realized　that　she　knew　who　he　was；　he　did　not　want　to　show　it；　and　asked；　Where　can　I　get　some　water？　
She　opened　the　door　to　the　bathroom。　He　saw　a　washbasin；　bathtub；　and　toilet　bowl；　in　front　of　bath；　basin；　and　bowl　lay　miniature　pink　rugs。
When　the　woman　who　looked　like　a　giraffe　and　a　stork　smiled；　her　eyes　screwed　up；　and　everything　she　said　seemed　full　of　irony　or　secret　messages。
The　bathroom　is　all　yours；　she　said。　You　can　do　whatever　your　heart　desires　in　it。　
May　I　have　a　bath？　Tomas　asked。
Do　you　like　baths？　she　asked。
He　filled　his　pail　with　warm　water　and　went　into　the　living　room。　Where　would　you　like　me　to　start？　
It's　up　to　you；　she　said　with　a　shrug　of　the　shoulders。
May　I　see　the　windows　in　the　other　rooms？　
So　you　want　to　have　a　look　around？　Her　smile　seemed　to　indicate　that　window　washing　was　only　a　caprice　that　did　not　interest　her。
He　went　into　the　adjoining　room。　It　was　a　bedroom　with　one　large　window；　two　beds　pushed　next　to　each　other；　and；　on　the　wall；　an　autumn　landscape　with　birches　and　a　setting　sun。
When　he　came　back；　he　found　an　open　bottle　of　wine　and　two　glasses　on　the　table。　How　about　a　little　something　to　keep　your　strength　up　during　the　big　job　ahead？　
I　wouldn't　mind　a　little　something；　actually；　said　Tomas；　and　sat　down　at　the　table。
You　must　find　it　interesting；　seeing　how　people　live；　she　said。
I　can't　complain；　said　Tomas。　All　those　wives　at　home　alone；　waiting　for　you。　You　mean　grandmothers　and　mothers…in…law。　Don't　you　ever　miss　your　original　profession？　Tell　me；　how　did　you　find　out　about　my　original　profession？　
Your　boss　likes　to　boast　about　you；　said　the　stork…woman。　After　all　this　time！　said　Tomas　in　amazement。　When　I　spoke　to　her　on　the　phone　about　having　the　windows　washed；　she　asked　whether　I　didn't　want　you。　She　said　you　were　a　famous　surgeon　who'd　been　kicked　out　of　the　hospital。　Well；　naturally　she　piqued　my　curiosity。　
You　have　a　fine　sense　of　curiosity；　he　said。　Is　it　so　obvious？　Yes；　in　the　way　you　use　your　eyes。　And　how　do　I　use　my　eyes？　You　squint。　And　then；　the　questions　you　ask。　You　mean　you　don't　like　to　respond？　Thanks　to　her；　the　conversation　had　been　delightfully　flirtatious　from　the　outset。　Nothing　she　said　had　any　bearing　on　the　outside　world；　it　was　all　directed　inward；　towards　themselves。　And　because　it　dealt　so　palpably　with　him　and　her；　there　was　nothing　simpler　than　to　complement　words　with　touch。　Thus；　when　Tomas　mentioned　her　squinting　eyes；　he　stroked　them；　and　she　did　the　same　to　his。　It　was　not　a　spontaneous　reaction；　she　seemed　to　be　consciously　setting　up　a　do　as　I　do　kind　of　game。　And　so　they　sat　there　face　to　face；　their　hands　moving　in　stages　along　each　other's　bodies。
Not　until　Tomas　reached　her　groin　did　she　start　resisting。　He　could　not　quite　guess　how　seriously　she　meant　it。　Since　much　time　had　now　passed　and　he　was　due　at　his　next　customer's　in　ten　minutes；　he　stood　up　and　told　her　he　had　to　go。　Her　face　was　red。　I　have　to　sign　the　order　slip；　she　said。　But　I　haven't　done　a　thing；　he　objected。　That's　my　fault。　And　then　in　a　soft；　innocent　voice　she　drawled；　I　suppose　I'll　just　have　to　order　you　back　and　have　you　finish　what　I　kept　you　from　starting。　
When　Tomas　refused　to　hand　her　the　slip　to　sign；　she　said　to　him　sweetly；　as　if　asking　him　for　a　favor；　Give　it　to　me。　Please？　Then　she　squinted　again　and　added；　After　all；　I'm　not　paying　for　it；　my　husband　is。　And　you're　not　being　paid　for　it；　the　state　is。　The　transaction　has　nothing　whatever　to　do　with　the　two　of　us。　
11
The　odd　asymmetry　of　the　woman　who　looked　like　a　giraffe　and　a　stork　continued　to　excite　his　memory：　the　combination　of　the　flirtatious　and　the　gawky；　the　very　real　sexual　desire　offset　by　the　ironic　smile；　the　vulgar　conventionality　of　the　flat　and　the　originality　of　its　owner。　What　would　she　be　like　when　they　made　love？　Try　as　he　might；　he　could　not　picture　it。　He　thought　of　nothing　else　for　several　days。
The　next　time　he　answered　her　summons；　the　wine　and　two　glasses　stood　waiting　on　the　table。　And　this　time　everything　went　like　clockwork。　Before　long；　they　were　standing　face　to　face　in　the　bedroom　（where　the　sun　was　setting　on　the　birches　in　the　painting）　and　kissing。　But　when　he　gave　her　his　standard　Strip！　command；　she　not　only　failed　to　comply　but　counter…commanded；　No；　you　first！　
Unaccustomed　to　such　a　response；　he　was　somewhat　taken　aback。　She　started　to　open　his　fly。　After　ordering　Strip！　several　more　times　（with　comic　failure）；　he　was　forced　to　accept　a　compromise。　According　to　the　rules　of　the　game　she　had　set　up　during　his　last　visit　（　do　as　I　do　）；　she　took　off　his　trousers；　he　took　off　her　skirt；　then　she　took　off　his　shirt；　he　her　blouse；　until　at　last　they　stood　there　naked。　He　placed　his　hand　on　her　moist　genitals；　then　moved　his　fingers　along　to　the　anus；　the　spot　he　loved　most　in　all　women's　bodies。　Hers　was　unusually　prominent；　evoking　the　long　digestive　tract　that　ended　there　with　a　slight　protrusion。　Fingering　her　strong；　healthy　orb；　that　most　splendid　of　rings　called　by　doctors　the　sphincter；　he　suddenly　felt　her　fingers　on　the　corresponding　part　of　his　own　anatomy。　She　was　mimicking　his　moves　with　the　precision　of　a　mirror。
Even　though；　as　I　have　pointed　out；　he　had　known　approximately　two　hundred　women　（plus　the　considerable　lot　that　had　accrued　during　his　days　as　a　window　washer）；　he　had　yet　to　be　faced　with　a　woman　who　was　taller　than　he　was；　squinted　at　him；　and　fingered　his　anus。　To　overcome　his　embarrassment；　he　forced　her　down　on　the　bed。
So　precipitous　was　his　move　that　he　caught　her　off　guard。　As　her　towering　frame　fell　on　its　back；　he　caught　among　the　red　blotches　on　her　face　the　frightened　expression　of　equilibrium　lost。　Now　that　he　was　standing　over　her；　he　grabbed　her　under　the　knees　and　lifted　her　slightly　parted　legs　in　the　air；　so　that　they　suddenly　looked　like　the　raised　arms　of　a　soldier　surrendering　to　a　gun　pointed　at　him。
Clumsiness　combined　with　ardor；　ardor　with　clumsiness—　they　excited　Tomas　utterly。　He　made　love　to　her　for　a　very　long　time；　constantly　scanning　her　red…blotched　face　for　that　frightened　expression　of　a　woman　whom　someone　has　tripped　and　who　is　falling；　the　inimitable　expression　that　moments　earlier　had　conveyed　excitement　to　his　brain。
Then　he　went　to　wash　in　the　bathroom。　She　followed　him　in　and　gave　him　long…drawn…out　explanations　of　where　the　soap　was　and　where　the　sponge　was　and　how　to　turn　on　the　hot　water。　He　was　surprised　that　she　went　into　such　detail　over　such　simple　matters。　At　last　he　had　to　tell　her　that　he　understood　everything　perfectly；　and　motioned　to　her　to　leave　him　alone　in　the　bathroom。
Won't　you　let　me　stay　and　watch？　she　begged。
At　last　he　managed　to　get　her　out。　As　he　washed　and　urinated　into　the　washbasin　（standard　procedure　among　Czech　doctors）；　he　had　the　feeling　she　was　running　back　and　forth　outside　the　bathroom；　looking　for　a　way　to　break　in。　When　he　turned　off　the　water　and　the　flat　was　suddenly　silent；　he　felt　he　was　being　watched。　He　was　nearly　certain　that　there　was　a　peephole　somewhere　in　the　bathroom　door　and　that　her　beautiful　eye　was　squinting　through　it。
He　went　off　in　the　best　of　moods；　trying　to　fix　her　essence　in　his　memory；　to　reduce　that　memory　to　a　chemical　formula　capable　of　defining　her　uniqueness　（her　millionth　part　dissimilarity）。　The　result　was　a　formula　consisting　of　three　givens：
1）　clumsiness　with　ardor；
2）　the　frightened　face　of　one　who　has　lost　her　equilibrium　and　is　falling；　and
3）　legs　raised　in　the　air　like　the　arms　of　a　soldier　surrendering　to　a　pointed　gun。
Going　over　them；　he　felt　the　joy　of　having　acquired　yet　another　piece　of　the　world；　of　having　taken　his　imaginary　scalpel　and　snipped　yet　another　strip　off　the　infinite　canvas　of　the　universe。
12
At　about　the　same　time；　he　had　the　following　experience：　He　had　been　meeting　a　young　woman　in　a　room　that　an　old　friend　put　at　his　disposal　every　day　until　midnight。　After　a　month　or　two；　she　reminded　him　of　one　of　their　early　encounters：　they　had　made　love　on　a　rug　under　the　window　while　it　was　thundering　and　lightning　outside；　they　had　made　love　for　the　length　of　the　storm；　it　had　been　unforgettably　beautiful！
Tomas　was　appalled。　Yes；　he　remembered　making　love　to　her　on　the　rug　（his　friend　slept　on　a　narrow　couch　that　Tomas　found　uncomfortable）；　but　he　had　completely　forgotten　the　storm！　It　was　odd。　He　could　recall　each　of　their　times　together；　he　had　even　kept　close　track　of　the　ways　they　made　love　（she　refused　to　be　entered　from　behind）；　he　remembered　several　of　the　things　she　had　said　during　intercourse　（she　would　ask　him　to　squeeze　her　hips　and　to　stop　looking　at　her　all　the　time）；　he　even　remembered　the　cut　of　her　lingerie；　but　the　storm　had　left　no　trace。
Of　each　erotic　experience　his　memory　recorded　only　the　steep　and　narrow　path　of　sexual　conquest：　the　first　piece　of　verbal　aggression；　the　first　touch；　the　first　obscenity　he　said　to　her　and　she　to　him；　the　minor　perversions　he　could　make　her　acquiesce　in　and　the　ones　she　held　out　against。　All　else　he　excluded　（almost　pedantically）　from　his　memory。　He　even　forgot　where　he　had　first　seen　one　or　another　woman；　if　that　event　occurred　before　his　sexual　offensive　began。
The　young　woman　smiled　dreamily　as　she　went　on　about　the　storm；　and　he　looked　at　her　in　amazement　and　something　akin　to　shame：　she　had　experienced　something　beautiful；　and　he　had　failed　to　experience　it　with　her。　The　two　ways　in　which　their　memories　reacted　to　the　evening　storm　sharply　delimit　love　and　nonlove。
By　the　word　nonlove　I　do　not　wish　to　imply　that　he　took　a　cynical　attitude　to　the　young　woman；　that；　as　present…day　parlance　has　it；　he　looked　upon　her　as　a　sex　object；　on　the　contrary；　he　was　quite　fond　of　her；　valued　her　character　and　intelligence；　and　was　willing　to　come　to　her　aid　if　ever　she　needed　him。　He　was　not　the　one　who　behaved　shamefully　towards　her；　it　was　his　memory；　for　it　was　his　memory　that；　unbeknown　to　him；　had　excluded　her　from　the　sphere　of　love。
The　brain　appears　to　possess　a　special　area　which　we　might　call　poetic　memory　and　which　records　everything　that　charms　or　touches　us；　that　ma