We finished our drinks and went to get Katherine's baggage. A number of men tried to catch her eye, but she walked close by my side, holding my arm. Few beautiful women were willing to indicate in public that they belonged to someone. I had known enough women to realize this. I accepted them for what they were, and love came hard and very seldom. When it did it was usually for the wrong reasons. One simply became tired of holding love back and let it go because it needed some place to go. Then usually, there was trouble.
At my place Katherine opened her suitcase and took out a pair of rubber gloves. She laughed.
"What is this?" I asked.
"Darlene-my best friend-she saw me packing and she said, 'What the hell are you doing?' And I said, I've never seen Hank's place, but I know that before I can cook in it and live in it and sleep in it I've got to clean it up!'"
Then Katherine gave off that happy Texas laugh. She went into the bathroom and put on a pair of bluejeans and an orange blouse, came out barefooted and went into the kitchen with her rubber gloves.
I went into the bathroom and changed clothes also. I decided that if Lydia came by I'd never let her touch Katherine. Lydia? Where was she? What was she doing?
I sent up a little prayer to the gods who watched over me: please keep Lydia away. Let her suck on the horns of cowboys and dance until 3 am-but please keep her away…
When I came out Katherine was on her knees scrubbing at two years' worth of grease on my kitchen floor.
"Katherine," I said, "let's go out on the town. Let's go have dinner. This is no way to begin."
"All right, Hank, but I've got to finish this floor first. Then we'll go."
I sat and waited. Then she came out and I was sitting in a chair, waiting. She bent over and kissed me, laughing, "You are a dirty old man!" Then she walked into the bedroom. I was in love again, I was in trouble…
36
After dinner we came back and we talked. She was a health food addict and didn't eat meat except for chicken and fish. It certainly worked for her.
"Hank," she said, "tomorrow I'm going to clean your bathroom."
"All right," I said over my drink.
"And I must do my exercises every day. Will that bother you?"
"No, no."
"Will you be able to write while I'm fussing around here?"
"No problem."
"I can go for walks."
"No, not alone, not in this neighborhood."
"I don't want to interfere with your writing."
"There's no way I can stop writing, it's a form of insanity."
Katherine came over and sat by me on the couch. She seemed more a girl than a woman. I put down my drink and kissed her, a long, slow kiss. Her lips were cool and soft. I was very conscious of her long red-brown hair. I pulled away and had another drink. She confused me. I was used to vile drunken wenches.
We talked for another hour. "Let's go to sleep," I told her, "I'm tired."
"Fine. I'll get ready first," she said.
I sat drinking. I needed more to drink. She simply was too much.
"Hank," she said, "I'm in bed."
"All right."
I went into the bathroom and undressed, brushed my teeth, washed my face and hands. She came all the way from Texas, I thought, she came on a plane just to see me and now she's in my bed, waiting.
I didn't have any pyjamas. I walked toward the bed. She was in a nightie. "Hank," she said, "we have about 6 days when it's safe, then we'll have to think of something else."
I got into bed with her. The little girl-woman was ready. I pulled her towards me. Luck was mine again, the gods were smiling. The kisses became more intense. I placed her hand on my cock and then pulled up her nightie. I began to play with her cunt. Katherine with a cunt? The clit came out and I touched it gently, again and again. Finally, I mounted. My cock entered halfway. It was very tight. I moved it back and forth, then pushed. The remainder of my cock slid in. It was glorious. She gripped me. I moved and her grip held. I tried to control myself. I stopped stroking and waited to cool off. I kissed her, working her lips apart, sucking at the upper lip. I saw her hair spread wide across the pillow. Then I gave up trying to please her and simply fucked her, ripping viciously. It was like murder. I didn't care; my cock had gone crazy. All that hair, her young and beautiful face. It was like raping the Virgin Mary. I came. I came inside of her, agonizing, feeling my sperm enter her body, she was helpless, and I shot my come deep into her ultimate core-body and soul-again and again…
Later on, we slept. Or Katherine slept. I held her from the back. For the first time I thought of marriage. I knew that there certainly were flaws in her that had not surfaced. The beginning of a relationship was always the easiest. After that the unveiling began, never to stop. Still, I thought of marriage. I thought of a house, a dog and a cat, of shopping in supermarkets. Henry Chinaski was losing his balls. And didn't care.
At last I slept. When I awakened in the morning Katherine was sitting on the edge of the bed brushing those yards of red-brown hair. Her large dark eyes looked at me as I awakened. "Hello, Katherine," I said, "will you marry me?"
"Please don't," she said, "I don't like it."
"I mean it."
"Oh, shit, Hank!"
"What?"
"I said, 'shit,' and if you talk that way I'm taking the first plane out."
"All right."
"Hank?"
"Yes?"
I looked at Katherine. She kept brushing her long hair. Her large brown eyes looked at me, and she was smiling. She said, "It's just sex, Hank, it's just sex!" Then she laughed. It wasn't a sardonic laugh, it was really joyful. She brushed her hair and I put my arm around her waist and rested my head against her leg. I wasn't quite sure of anything.
37
I took women either to the boxing matches or to the racetrack. That Thursday night I took Katherine to the boxing matches at the Olympic auditorium. She had never been to a live fight. We got there before the first bout and sat at ringside. I drank beer and smoked and waited.
"It's strange," I told her, "that people will sit here and wait for two men to climb up there into that ring and try to punch each other out."
"It does seem awful."
"This place was built a long time ago," I told her as she looked around the ancient arena. "There are only two restrooms, one for men, the other for women, and they are small. So try to go before or after intermission."
"All right."
The Olympic was attended mostly by Latinos and lower class working whites, with a few movie stars and celebrities. There were many good Mexican fighters and they fought with their hearts. The only bad fights were when whites or blacks fought, especially the heavyweights.
Being there with Katherine felt strange. Human relationships were strange. I mean, you were with one person a while, eating and sleeping and living with them, loving them, talking to them, going places together, and then it stopped. Then there was a short period when you weren't with anybody, then another woman arrived, and you ate with her and fucked her, and it all seemed so normal, as if you had been waiting just for her and she had been waiting for you. I never felt right being alone; sometimes it felt good but it never felt right.
The first fight was a good one, lots of blood and courage. There was something to be learned about writing from watching boxing matches or going to the racetrack. The message wasn't clear but it helped me. That was the important part: the message wasn't clear. It was wordless, like a house burning, or an earthquake or a flood, or a woman getting out of a car, showing her legs. I didn't know what other writers needed; I didn't care, I couldn't read them anyway. I was locked into my own habits, my own prejudices. It wasn't bad being dumb if the ignorance was all your own. I knew that some day I would write about Katherine and that it would be hard. It was easy to write about whores, but to write about a good woman was much more difficult.