I don't want anything to go wrong again. Do you believe that?"
"Yes . . . but can you show it more?"
"I'm trying, and I'll try again. But I've got to do it my way, the only way I know." At the end of the bed I could feel Seri's weight, pressing down the bedclothes over my feet.
"Kiss me, Peter." Gracia drew my hand to her breast, and brought her leg across my thigh. The nervous energy in her was exciting; I responded to it, sensing the same charge in myself. So we made love, and Seri was not there.
Afterwards, drifting into sleep, I wanted to tell Gracia about her, explain that Seri was just a part of my orientation around her, remind her of the rapture of islands, but it was too late for that.
Later there was dawn light beyond the curtains. I was woken by Gracia moving. Her breath was quick. The bed shook as if trembling, and I heard her rings clatter lightly on to the bedside table.
17
The next day, while Gracia was at work, I felt listless. There were small cleaning jobs to do around the flat, and I did these with my usual lack of enthusiasm. Seri did not appear, and after I had been to the local pub for lunch, I found my manuscript and went through it, seeking references to Seri in the hope of separating her from Gracia. It seemed to me I was confusing Gracia in my mind; Seri distracted me. In the night I had learned that Gracia was more important than anything.
But I was tired, and the only tensions eased by sex were physical. Both Gracia and I were unsure of our identities, and in seeking them we were damaging each other. My manuscript was a danger. It contained Seri, but it also contained myself as protagonist. I needed it still, but it drove me inwards.
Inevitably, Seri appeared. She was real, independent, tanned from the islands.
"You didn't help me last night," I said. "I needed you then, to reassure Gracia of what I am trying to do."
Seri said--I was upset and felt lonely. I couldn't interfere.
She was remote from me, drifting on the periphery. I said: "But can't you help me?"
Seri said--I can he with you, and help restore you to yourself. I can't say anything to you about Gracia. You're in love with her, and that excludes me.
"If you came closer I might be able to love you both. I don't want to hurt Gracia. What shall I do?"
Seri said--Let's go out, Peter.
I left my manuscript scattered on the bed, and followed her to the streets.
It was spring in the city, and along the boulevards the cafés had put their tables out beneath the canopies. It was the time I liked best in Jethra, and to leave the flat to enjoy the mild air and sunshine was like a tonic to me. I bought a newspaper. We went to one of the cafés I liked best, situated on the corner of a large, busy intersection. Here there was a tram crossing, and I enjoyed the distinctive clang of the bells, the clatter of the wheels on the crossings and the overhead tracery of the power lines. The pavements were crowded with people, conveying a sense of collective bustle and purpose, yet individually most of them seemed merely to be enjoying the sunshine. Faces were upturned after winter. While Seri ordered some drinks I glanced oven the headlines of the newspaper. More troops were to be sent to the south; the early thaw had brought avalanches to the mountain passes, and a patrol of the Border Police had been wiped out; the Seigniory had announced further grain embargoes to the so-called non-aligned states. It was depressing news, discordant with the reality of the Jethran day around me. Seri and I sat in the warm light, watching the passers-by and the tnams and the horse traffic, and aware of the people at the other tables. There was a predominance of unaccompanied young women; an intimation of the social effect of the draft.
"I love it here in Jethra," I said. "At this time of year it's the best place in the world."
Seri said--Are you going to stay here for the rest of your life?
"Probably." I saw the sun in her hair, and she was coming closer.
Seri said--"Don't you feel the urge to travel?"
"Where to? It's difficult while the wan's on."
Seri said: "Let's go to the islands. Once we're out of Faiandland we can go anywhere we please."
"I'd love to," I said. "But what can I do about Gracia? I can't just nun away from her. She's everything to me."
"You did it once before."
"Yes, and she tried to kill herself. That's why I have to stay with her.
I can't risk that happening again."
"Don't you think you might be the cause of her unhappiness?" Seri said.
"I've watched the way you two destroy each other. Don't you remember what Gracia was like when you met her in Castleton? She was confident, positive, building her life. Can you still recognize her as the same woman?"
"Sometimes. But she has changed, I know."
"And it's because of you!" Seri said, flicking back her hair oven her right ear, as she sometimes did when she became agitated. "Peter, for her sake and yours, you've got to get out."
"But I've nowhere to go."
"Conic with me to the islands."
"Why is it always the islands?" I said. "Couldn't I just get out of Jethra, like I did last year?"
I became aware that someone was standing beside my table, and I looked up. The waiter was standing there.
"Would you mind keeping your voice down, sin?" he said. "You're disturbing the other customers."
"I'm sorry," I said, looking around. The other people seemed unaware of me, busy in their own lives. Two pretty girls walked past the tables; a tram clattered by; on the far side of the boulevard a council employee was sweeping up horse droppings. "Would you bring the same again, please?"
I looked back to Seri. She had turned away while the waiter was there, neceding from me. I reached over and found her wrist, gripping it lightly, feeling the substance of it.
"Don't leave me," I said.
Seri said--I can't help it. You're rejecting me.
"No! Please . . . you were really helping me then."
Seri said--"I'm scared you will forget who I am. I'll lose you."
"Please tell me about the islands, Seri," I said. I noticed the waiter was watching me, so I kept my voice quiet.
"They're an escape from all this, your own private escape. Last year, when you went to your friend's house, you thought you could define yourself by exploring your past. You tried to remember yourself. But identity exists in the _present_. Memory is behind you, and if you depend on that alone you will be only half defined. You must seek balance, and embrace your future. The Dream Archipelago _is_ your future. Here, in Jethra, you will just stagnate with Gracia, and damage her."
"But I don't believe in the islands," I said.
"Then you must discover them for yourself. The islands are as real as I am. They exist and you can visit them, just as you can speak to me. But they're also a state of mind, an attitude to life. Everything you've done in your life so far has been inward-looking, selfish, hurtful to others. You must go outward and affirm your life."
The waiter returned and put down our drinks: a glass of beer for myself and an orange juice for Seri. "Please settle your bill as soon as you have finished, sir."
"What do you mean?"
"Just he as quick as possible. Thank you."
Seri had receded again, and for an instant I glimpsed another café: a dingy interior, plastic-topped tables stained with old tea, steamed-up windows, a milk cooler and a placard for PepsiCola . . . but then a tram went by with a flash of brilliant blue sparks from its conducting antenna, and I saw the pink blossom in the trees, the crowds of Jethrans.
Seri said, returning-- "You can live forever in the Archipelago."
"The Lotterie, you mean."
"No . . . the islands are timeless. Those who go there never return.
They find themselves."
"It sounds unhealthy to me," I said. "An escape fantasy."
"No more than anything else you have even done. For you, the islands will he a redemption. An escape from escape, a return to outwardness. You must go deeper inside yourself to find your way out. I'll take you there."