I explained all this to Stubby when he asked me what I was doing. I left him standing in the doorway while I filled several containers. He noticed that as the container filled, the tap water soon turned a mud color, then black. This was normal in my experience, but he expressed surprise, saying that he had never seen tap water that color.
"You must use a water filter," I said.
"Yes, how did you know?" he said in amazement.
Turning the tap off after filling the last container, I smiled, "I have learned many things recently."
I went to the kitchen with him at my heels. I filled several bottles and containers with water for drinking and cooking and shut the gas off tightly. On the verge of making my nightly rounds to close the windows and lock the front door, I stopped short, since it was evident that what I feared, tonight at least, wasn't outside.
We finally returned to the bedroom. He took embroidered silk pajamas out of his suitcase. I suggested that he change in the bathroom, or that I leave the room until he'd finished. Naturally, he didn't agree. I didn't really care, since it wouldn't embarrass me to be naked in front of a man like him. All the more so since this fel low already had knowledge of the most intimate parts of my body.
Having taken off my outer clothes, I stood before him in my underwear. I felt awkward whenever he looked at me. I couldn't resist glancing at his naked thighs. The bulge of what was between them scared me. I supposed that either he was the victim of an old hernia, so that his guts were taking liberties with his testicles, or that he was created with unusual generosity.
I wanted to raise the question of sleeping arrangements again. I said, suddenly animated, "Perhaps you'd like to read a little before going to sleep. In that case, we'd have to sleep in separate rooms, because light disturbs me and I want to get to sleep right away."
"Don't worry," he said calmly. "I won't read anything. I also want to get right to sleep."
I approached the bed reluctantly. I heard him ask me in the same calm voice to get into bed first so that he could sleep on the outer edge.
I acceded to his request and lay down on my back next to the wall. He joined me as soon as he put out the light.
Needless to say, I couldn't get the sleep I so badly needed. I had to wake up the next morning refreshed and capable of sorting out the dilemma confronting me. Although I desperately needed to sleep after an arduous day, my ignorance of how far my bedmate would go stimulated all my senses, especially my ears.
At first, the thump of my rapid heart beats drowned out the familiar night sounds. When I calmed down a little, I noticed the pipes rattling, the clamor of the neighbor's children, water splashing into a metal tub in the apartment below mine, and dogs barking in the neighborhood streets.
The strange thing was that these noises, which had so often enraged me and deprived me of sleep, were a source of peace that night, soothing the tension in my nerves.
However, I started when gunshots resounded through the still night in declaration of open season on the dogs.
I knew most of these dogs. Days, I'd see their emaciated bodies in the local streets and on garbage heaps. They were cowards, all bark and no bite. The most they dared do was raise their voices at inopportune times, especially after people retired for the night.
Apparently the barking reverberating through the stillness of the night had hurt the ears of some luminary among the neighbors. So, he hired someone to hunt the dogs down. On most nights, the barking began to be mingled with gunfire until eventually it disappeared.
The following day or the next the barking would re turn to its previous intensity as though nothing had happened. Then the gunfire would resound again.
My bedmate paid no attention to the gunfire, continuing to lie quietly on his back. I held my breath when he suddenly turned onto his left side to face me.
His perfumed scent wafted over to me, gagging me. Presently, from the regularity of his breathing I concluded that he was sound asleep. I turned onto my right side facing him. In the dark, I looked toward his face.
Since I had gotten used to the dark, I could see his eyes. It startled me that they were open, staring vigilantly.
I closed my eyes at once and pretended to sleep, but watched him from under half-closed eyelids.
Suddenly his hand moved. Scared, I held my breath. I had get it into my head that he would touch me. But he didn't, and his breathing remained regular. It seemed to me he'd closed his eyes, but I didn't trust my imagination. Perhaps, like me, he was watching through his eyelashes.
It was difficult for me to sleep with the problems on my rr_ind. Whenever I tried thinking of something else, I would open the Pandora's box I had been trying to lock. Images and memories that had been waiting popped right into my head. Immediately my weaknesses and flaws stood out plainly. My emotions ran wild at the thought of my insignificance, of the mo ments when I had permitted myself to be the laughingstock of others and a plaything in their hands, of how I allowed myself to be sidetracked, and of the small pleasures I had indulged in and allowed to dominate me.
No sooner had I become uncertain about these very matters, than a familiar wave of doubt swamped me, casting its shadows over my life's aims and goals. Nor were the sexual pleasures that occupied a conspicuous place in my emotional life left untouched. In a desperate attempt to save myself, I called upon the memories and fantasies my mind had stored up, which had never yet failed to stir the blood in my veins. Nevertheless, I found myself unresponsive, numb to every promise of pleasure.
Near dawn I must have dozed a little and turned my back to him. I was suddenly alerted by something firm bumping my thigh. I stiffened onto my back at once. I looked toward him and in the thin dawn light I saw him staring watchfully at me. But he was far enough away to make me believe I'd been dreaming. You can see what was running through my mind.
Naturally I couldn't sleep after that. When the sun's rays shone in, I decided to get up. He preceded me, and we got out of bed together. We went along to the bathroom, took a leak, and washed up.
I saw him take his razor out of the leather case. I de cided to shave too, hoping to clear my mind and keep busy until he finished. I was sure he wouldn't let me leave the bathroom any earlier.
We stood together in front of the mirror over the sink. I raised my red, watery eyes. They met his, which were full of vitality and energy, as though he had enjoyed a full night's sleep. A steady gaze met mine, which I was at a loss to explain since he was walleyed. The razor shook in my hand, nicking me under the chin.
Unable to stand the sight of blood or the thought of pain, I began to shake all over. I saw myself staring at the trickle of blood oozing from the wound, with a certain feeling of curiosity.
My companion snapped me out of my trance when, from the leather case, he handed me a small bottle of scented liquid with which to treat the cut. I declined politely and stuck my whole head under the tap, letting the thin stream of water wash the wound and staunch it.
After I had dried my head and stuck a small piece of cotton on the cut, we went back to the bedroom to change our clothes. I contented myself with pants and a shirt. He put on a complete suit, right down to the necktie.
We went to the kitchen and I made tea. There were only three eggs in the fridge. After asking my guest's preference, I put them on the stove in a little water. I also took out a piece of cheese, another of sesame halva, and some black olives.
We finally sat down facing each other across the dining table. I offered him two boiled eggs out of the three and conferred the third on myself. He didn't comment on this unequal apportionment, but instead applied himself to his food with great relish, whereas I just picked at mine.