cb.imajica1-第5部分

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ht　as　if　by　the　sun　off　a　wing　in　the　stratosphere；　she　saw　Gentle；　his　hair　swept　back　from　his　high　forehead；　his　gray　eyes　al！　yearning；　his　mouth；　which　she'd　not　known　she　missed　till　now；　ready　to　break　into　a　smile。　It　never　came。　The　wing　dipped；　the　stranger　turned；　Gentle　was　gone。　She　stood　in　the　throng　for　several　seconds　while　he　disappeared　downtown。　Then；　gathering　herself　together；　she　turned　her　back　on　the　mystery　and　started　home。
　It　didn't　leave　her　thoughts；　of　course。　She　was　a　woman　who　trusted　her　senses；　and　to　discover　them　so　deceptive　distressed　her。　But　more　vexing　still　was　why　it　should　be　that　particular　face；　of　all　those　in　her　memory's　catalogue；　she'd　chosen　to　configure　from　that　of　a　perfect　stranger。　Klein's　Bastard　Boy　was　out　of　her　life；　and　she　out　of　his。　It　was　six　years　since　she'd　crossed　the　bridge　from　where　they'd　stood　together；　and　the　river　that　flowed　between　was　a　torrent。　Her　marriage　to　Estabrook　had　e　and　gone　along　that　river；　and　a　good　deal　of　pain　with　it。　Gentle　was　still　on　the　other　shore；　part　of　her　history：　irretrievable。　So　why　had　she　conjured　him　now？
　As　she　came　within　a　block　of　Marlin's　building　she　remembered　something　she'd　utterly　put　out　of　her　head　for　that　six…year　span。　It　had　been　a　glimpse　of　Gentle；　not　so　unlike　the　one　she'd　just　had；　that　had　propelled　her　into　her　near…suicidal　affair　with　him。　She'd　met　him　at　one　of　Klein's　parties…a　casual　encounter…and　had　given　him　very　little　conscious　thought　subsequently。　Then；　three　nights　later；　she'd　been　visited　by　an　erotic　dream　that　regularly　haunted　her。　The　scenario　was　always　the　same。　She　was　lying　naked　on　bare　boards　in　an　empty　room；　not　bound　but　somehow　bounded；　and　a　man　whose　face　she　could　never　see；　his　mouth　so　sweet　it　was　like　eating　candy　to　kiss　him；　made　violent　Jove　to　her。　Only　this　time　the　fire　that　burned　in　the　grate　close　by　showed　her　the　face　of　her　dream　lover；　and　it　had　been　Gentle's　face。　The　shock；　after　so　many　years　of　never　knowing　who　the　man　was；　woke　her；　but　with　such　a　sense　of　loss　at　this　interrupted　coitus　she　couldn't　sleep　again　for　mourning　it。　The　next　day　she'd　discovered　his　whereabouts　from　Klein；　who'd　warned　her　in　no　uncertain　manner　that　John　Zacharias　was　bad　news　for　tender　hearts。　She'd　ignored　the　warning　and　gone　to　see　him　that　very　afternoon；　in　the　studio　off　the　Edgware　Road。　They　scarcely　left　it　for　the　next　two　weeks；　their　passion　putting　her　dreams　to　shame。
　Only　later；　when　she　was　in　love　with　him　and　it　was　too　late　for　mon　sense　to　qualify　her　feelings；　did　she　learn　more　about　him。　He　trailed　a　reputation　for　womanizing　that；　even　if　it　was　ninety　percent　invention；　as　she　assumed；　was　still　prodigious。　If　she　mentioned　his　name　in　any　circle；　however　jaded　it　was　by　gossip；　there　was　always　somebody　who　had　some　tidbit　about　him。　He　even　went　by　a　variety　of　names。　Some　referred　to　him　as　the　Furie；　some　as　Zach　or　Zacho；　or　Mr。　Zee；　others　called　him　Gentle；　which　was　the　name　she　knew　him　by；　of　course；　still　others；　John　the　Divine。　Enough　names　for　half　a　dozen　lifetimes。　She　wasn't　so　blindly　devoted　to　him　that　she　didn't　accept　there　was　truth　in　these　rumors。　Nor　did　he　do　much　to　temper　them。　He　liked　the　air　of　legend　that　hung　about　his　head。　He　claimed；　for　instance；　not　to　know　how　old　he　was。　Like　herself；　he　had　a　very　slippery　grasp　on　the　past。　And　he　frankly　admitted　to　being　obsessed　with　her　sex。　Some　of　the　talk　she'd　heard　was　of　cradle…snatching；　some　of　deathbed　fucks：　he　played　no　favorites。
　So；　here　was　her　Gentle：　a　man　known　to　the　doormen　of　every　exclusive　club　and　hotel　in　the　city；　who；　after　ten　years　of　high　living　had　survived　the　ravages　of　every　excess；　who　was　still　lucid；　still　handsome；　still　alive。　And　this　same　man；　this　Gentle；　told　her　he　was　in　love　with　her　and　put　the　words　together　so　perfectly　she　disregarded　all　she'd　heard　but　those　he　spoke。
　She　might　have　gone　on　listening　forever　but　for　her　rage；　which　was　the　legend　she　trailed。　A　volatile　thing；　apt　to　ferment　in　her　without　her　even　being　aware　of　it。　That　had　been　the　case　with　Gentle。　After　half　a　year　of　their　affair；　she'd　begun　to　wonder；　wallowing　in　his　affection；　how　a　man　whose　history　had　been　one　infidelity　after　another　had　mended　his　ways；　which　thought　led　to　the　possibility　that　perhaps　he　hadn't。　In　fact　she　had　no　reason　to　suspect　him。　His　devotion　bordered　on　the　obsessive　in　some　moods；　as　though　he　saw　in　her　a　woman　she　didn't　even　know　herself；　an　ancient　soul　mate。　She　was；　she　began　to　think；　unlike　any　other　woman　he'd　ever　met；　the　love　that　had　changed　his　life。　When　they　were　so　intimately　joined；　how　would　she　not　know　if　he　was　cheating　on　her？　She'd　have　surety　sensed　the　other　woman。　Tasted　her　on　his　tongue；　or　smelled　her　on　his　skin。　And　if　not　there；　then　in　the　subtleties　of　their　exchanges。　But　she'd　underestimated　him。　When；　by　the　sheerest　fluke；　she'd　j　discovered　he　had　not　one　other　woman　on　the　side　but　two；　it　drove　her　to　near　insanity。　She　began　by　destroying　the　contents　of　the　studio；　slashing　all　his　canvases；　painted　or　not；　then　tracking　the　felon　himself　and　mounting　an　assault　that　literally　brought　him　to　his　knees；　in　fear　for　his　balls。
　The　rage　burned　a　week；　after　which　she　fell　totally　silent　for　three　days：　a　silence　broken　by　a　grief　like　nothing　she'd　ever　experienced　before。　Had　it　not　been　for　her　chance　meeting　with　Estabrook…who　saw　through　her　tumbling；　distracted　manner　to　the　woman　she　was…she　might　well　have　taken　her　own　life。
　Thus　the　tale　of　Judith　and　Gentle：　one　death　short　of　tragedy；　and　a　marriage　short　of　farce。
　She　found　Marlin　already　home；　uncharacteristically　agitated。
　〃Where　have　you　been？〃　he　wanted　to　know。　〃It's　six…thirty…nine。〃
　She　instantly　knew　this　was　no　time　to　be　telling　him　what　her　trip　to　Bloomingdale's　had　cost　her　in　peace　of　mind。　Instead　she　lied。　〃I　couldn't　get　a　cab。　I　had　to　walk。〃
　〃If　that　happens　again；　just　call　me。　I'll　have　you　picked　up　by　one　of　our　limos。　I　don't　want　you　wandering　the　streets。　It's　not　safe。　Anyhow；　we're　late。　We'll　have　to　eat　after　the　performance。〃
　〃What　performance？〃
　〃The　show　in　the　Village　that　Troy　was　yabbering　about　last　night；　remember？　The　Neo…Nativity？　He　said　it　was　the　best　thing　since　Bethlehem。〃
　〃It's　sold　out。〃
　〃I　have　my　connections。〃　He　gleamed。
　〃We're　going　tonight？〃
　〃Not　if　you　don't　move　your　ass。〃
　〃Marlin；　sometimes　you're　sublime〃　she　said；　dumping　her　purchases　and　racing　to　change。
　〃What　about　the　rest　of　the　time？〃　he　hollered　after　her。　〃Sexy？　Irresistible？　Beddable？〃　。
　If　indeed　he'd　secured　the　tickets　as　a　way　of　bribing　her　between　the　sheets；　he　suffered　for　his　lust。　He　concealed　his　boredom　through　the　first　act；　but　by　intermission　he　was　itching　to　be　away　to　claim　his　prize。
　〃Do　we　really　need　to　stay　for　the　rest？〃　he　asked　her　as　they　sipped　coffee　in　the　tiny　foyer。　〃I　mean；　it's　not　like　there's　any　mystery　about　it。　The　kid　gets　born；　the　kid　grows　up；　the　kid　gets　crucified。〃
　〃I'm　enjoying　it。〃
　〃But　it　doesn't　make　any　sense；〃　he　plained；　in　deadly　earnest。　The　show's　eclecticism　offended　his　rationalism　deeply。　〃Why　were　the　angels　playing　jazz？〃
　〃Who　knows　what　angels　do？〃
　He　shook　his　head。　〃I　don't　know　whether　it's　a　edy　or　a　satire　or　what　the　hell　it　is；〃　he　said。　〃Do　you　know　what　it　is？〃
　〃I　think　it's　very　funny。〃
　〃So　you'd　like　to　stay？〃
　〃I'd　like　to　stay。〃
　The　second　half　was　even　more　of　a　grab　bag　than　the　first；　the　suspicion　growing　in　Judc　as　she　watched　that　the　parody　and　pastiche　was　a　smokescreen　put　up　to　cover　the　creators'　embarrassment　at　their　own　sincerity。　In　the　end；　with　Charlie　Parker　angels　wailing　on　the　stable　roof　and　Santa　crooning　at　the　manger；　the　piece　collapsed　into　high　camp。　But　even　that　was　oddly　moving。　The　child　was　born。　Light　had　e　into　the　world　again；　even　if　it　was　to　the　acpaniment　of　tap…dancing　elves。
　When　they　exited；　there　was　sleet　in　the　wind。
　〃Cold；　cold；　cold；〃　Marlin　said。　〃I'd　better　take　a　leak。〃
　He　went　back　inside　to　join　the　line　for　the　toilets；　leaving　Jude　at　the　door；　watching　the　blobs　of　wet　snow　pass　through　the　lamplight。　The　theater　was　not　large；　and　the　bulk　of　the　audience　was　out　in　a　couple　of　minutes；　umbrellas　raised；　heads　dropped；　darting　off　into　the　Village　to　look　for　their　cars；　or　a　place　where　they　could　put　some　drink　in　their　systems　and　play　critic。　The　light　above　the　。front　door　was　switched　off；　and　a　cleaner　emerged　from　the　theater　with　a　black　plastic　bag　of　rubbish　and　a　broom　and　began　to　brush　the　foyer；　ignoring　Jude…who　was　the　last　visible　occupant…until　he　reached　her；　when　he　gave　her　a　glance　of　such　venom　she　decided　to　put　up　her　umbrella　and　stand　on　the　darkened　step。　Marlin　was　taking　his　time　emptying　his　bladder。　She　only　hoped　he　wasn't　titivating　himself；　slicking　his　hair　and　freshening　his　breath　in　the　hope　of　talking　her　into　bed。
　The　first　she　knew　of　the　assault　was　a　motion　glimpsed　from　the　corner　of　her　eye：　a　blurred　form　approaching　her　at　speed　through　the　thickening　sleet。　Alarmed；　she　turned　towards　her　attacker。　She　had　time　to　recognize　the　face　on　｜　Third　Avenue；　then　the　man　was　upon　her。
　She　opened　her　mouth　to　yell；　turning　to　retreat　into　the　theater　as　she　did　so。　The　cleaner　had　gone。　So　had　her　shout；　caught　in　her　throat　by　the　stranger's　hands。　They　were　expert。　They　hurt　brutally；　stopping　every　breath　from　being　drawn。　She　panicked；　flailed；　toppled。　He　took　her　weight；　controlling　her　motion。　In　desperation　she　threw　the　umbrella　into　the　foyer；　hoping　there　was　somebody　out　of　sight　in　the　box　office　who'd　be　alerted　to　her　jeopardy。　Then　she　was　wrenched　out　of　shadow　into　heavier　shadow　still　and　realized　it　was　almost　too　late　already。　She　was　being　light…headed；　her　leaden　limbs　no　longer　hers。　In　the　murk　her　assassin's　face　was　once　more　a　blur；　with　two　dark　holes　bored　in　it。　She　fell　towards　them；　wishing　she　had　the　energy　to　turn　her　gaze　away　from　this　blankness；　but　as　he　moved　closer　to　her　a　little　light　caught　his　cheek　and　she　saw；　or　thought　she　saw；　tears　there；　spilling　from　those　dark　e