ericlustbader.the ninja-第23节

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t　of　our　country。　How　can　you　celebrate　the　one　without　feeling　shame　at　the　other？　Memory　is　selective；　not　history。　We　are　what　we　are。　You　can't　arbitrarily　excise　the　bad；　pretend　it　never　existed。　Nick　doesn't　do　that；　I　know。　He　remembers；　he　feels　the　hurt；　still。　But　I　don't　think　you　and　Vincent　do。'
　He　wanted　to　tell　her　of　his　recent　thoughts　but　he　found　that　he　could　not。　Not　now；　at　least。　It　was　the　wrong　time；　the　wrong　place；　and　he　had　a　highly　developed　sense　of　these　things。　Tonight；　perhaps。　Tonight　he　would　see　that　it　all　came　down。　He　watched　the　diffuse；　artist's　light　on　her　satin…skinned　face；　her　long　slender　neck；　her　slim　pact　body。　It　was　impossible　to　think　of　her　as　being　forty…one；　she　did　not　look　a　day　over　thirty；　even　in　harsh　light。
　It　was　just　about　two　years　since　they　had　first　met；　a　year　since　they　had　bee　clandestine　lovers　…　at　least　as　far　as　those　at　the　dojo　were　concerned；　of　course　all　their　friends　knew。　In　that　time　she　had　never　asked　for　more；　never　wanted　to　know　about　the　future。　It　was　he　who；　lately；　had　felt　the　need　for　more。　And　recently　he　had　bee　aware　that；　at　least　partially；　the　ending　of　his　love　affair　with　kenjutsu　had　been；　simultaneously；　the　beginning　of　his　love　affair　with　Ei。　Now；　it　seemed　to　him　with　pristine　logic；　that　there　was　nothing　more　important　in　life　than　being　with　her。　The　dojo；　which　he　had　opened　nearly　five　years　ago；　was　well　established　and　he　was　more　than　satisfied　that　it　could　run　itself　for　a　short　while。　Time　enough　for　a　marriage　and　a　long；　leisurely　honeymoon　somewhere　far　away。　Paris；　perhaps。　Yes；　definitely　Paris。　It　was　Ei's　favourite　city；　he　knew；　and　he　had　never　been　there。　All　that　remained　was　for　him　to　ask　her。　Tonight。
　Would　she　say　yes　this　time？　He　suspected　that　she　would　and　his　heart　fairly　danced。
　'Tonight；'　he　said。　'I'll　be　back　by　nine；　ten　if　Vincent　gets　stuck　in　Island　traffic　on　the　way　in。　But　you　have　a　key　and　some　of　your　clothes　are　there。　e　any　time。　But　bring　champagne。　Dom　Perignon。　I'll　bring　the　caviar。'
　It　would　have　been　easy　for　Eileen　to　ask　what　all　this　was　for　but　she　felt　that　it　would　spoil　the　moment。　There　was；　after　all；　plenty　of　time　to　find　out　what　she　already　knew　in　her　heart。
　'All　right；'　she　said；　her　eyes　very　large　now。
　He　turned；　abruptly　remembering。　'I'd　better　get　upstairs　and　prepare　the　bokken。　Soon　Hideoshi　will　be　through　with　the　others　and　I　want　to　be　ready。'
　Justine's　eyes　were　pletely　dry。　This　was　something　new　for　her　but　it　brought　her　no　solace。　Not　when　the　anxiety　had　e　again；　a　fierce　knot　in　her　stomach；　a　pressure　on　her　chest；　constricting　her　breaking；　refusing　to　go　away。　There　is　nothing　wrong；　she　repeated　over　and　over　to　herself。　Nothing。　Absolutely　nothing。　She　shivered；　feeling　cold。　Her　fingers　were　like　ice。
　She　stood　in　the　darkened　living　room　of　Nicholas's　house；　staring　out　at　the　mist　and　rain　on　this　dismal　Sunday。　Out　'　there；　somewhere；　was　the　sea；　curling　endlessly；　but　the　spiteful　rain　hid　it　from　her　as　if　it　were　withholding　a　bright　toy　on　Christmas　morning。　She　thought　about　going　out　there；　piercing　the　mist；　finding　the　ocean　for　herself；　but　she　lacked；　at　this　moment；　the　necessary　fortitude　to　brave　the　weather。
　Oh；　my　God　I　Oh；　my　God！
　She　whirled　from　the　sleeted　window…pane；　running　blindly　through　the　house；　groping　for　the　bathroom；　and　there；　at　last；　she　collapsed　in　front　of　the　toilet；　retching。
　Her　body　shook　and　sweat　stood　out　on　her　forehead；　rolling　down　into　her　eyes　in　tiny　stinging　rivulets。
　After　an　endless　time；　when　she　could　no　longer　stand　the　stink；　she　reached　out　a　hand　to　flush　the　toilet。　It　seemed　to　take　all　the　energy　she　possessed。　But；　after　that；　she　somehow　found　the　strength　to　stand　up　and　bend　over　the　basin。
　The　cold　running　water　fell　on　her　face　like　bullets　from　a　gun。　She　shivered；　opened　her　mouth　to　get　the　sour　taste　out。　She　could　not　swallow。
　Sitting　on　the　edge　of　the　porcelain　bath；　feeling　the　cool　bar　of　it　striking　across　her　buttocks；　she　curled　over；　putting　her　head　in　her　arms；　her　arms　on　her　knees。
　She　rocked　back　and　forth；　thinking；　I　can't　do　it。　I　can't。
　It　was　her　mind　now　that　did　the　vomiting。　The　history　of　the　betrayals　unfurling　like　a　hated　flag　above　her　head；　blotting　out　all　other　signs　of　life。　All　her　men。　Timothy；　who　had　been　the　first；　the　high…school　basketball　coach。　I'll　be　gentle；　Justine；　and　thrusting　savagely　into　her　over　and　over；　enjoying　the　expression　of　pain　on　her　face；　her　crying　out　into　the　perfect　sterile　symmetry　of　the　darkened　gym；　watching　his　eyes　burn　with　her　instant's　fear。　Then　Jodie；　the　Harvard　man　with　the　laughing　eyes　and　the　cruel　soul。　I　want　to　be　a　surgeon；　Justine　…　and　already　was。　Eddie；　who　was　seeing　her　and　his　wife　on　alternate　nights；　there　was　nothing　he　wanted　but　them　both。　And　then；　in　San　Francisco；　there　had　been　Chris。　They　had　e　together；　igniting　like　a　bonfire；　insatiable；　insensate　to　everything　and　everyone　around　them。　Or　was　that　only　the　way　it　had　been　with　her？　She　could　not　bear　that　truth；　even　now。　Dredging　it　up　was　like　an　act　of　cruel　masochism；　like　opening　the　edges　of　a　slowly　healing　wound　and　probing　for　the　nerve。
　She　had　used　her　father's　name　then　…　and　his　money。　God　only　knew　how　much；　certainly　she　did　not。　Wasn't　it　the　money　that　had　made　her　weak　and　lazy？　So　easy　to　pin　down　the　blame；　neatly　and　resolutely；　ing　back　to　her　father。　How　she　hated　him　for　giving　her　…　those　things：　his　name　（she　always　wrote　the　word　out　on　the　screen　of　her　mind　so　that　she　could　make　the　deliberate　typo　fame　which　was；　as　far　as　she　was　concerned；　no　error）　and　his　money。
　God；　this　thing　makes　me　nasty　and　bitter；　she　thought。　As　if　it's　a　physical　malady　that　manufactures　bile　as　a　by…product。　She　gagged　again　but；　wrapping　her　arms　around　her　stomach；　she　held　herself　together；　there　was　nothing　more　to　e　up；　she　was　empty　yet　the　anxiety　made　her　feel　as　if　she　had　swallowed　a　two…by…four　whole。
　I　can't　do　it；　she　repeated　to　herself。　I　can't。
　She　had　taken　his　money　…　so　much　of　it　…　not　thoughtlessly　but　wilfully。　Because　she　hated　him。　But　she　found　that　getting　it　was　like　having　the　goblet　of　wine　that　was　always　full　no　matter　how　much　you　drank。　What　had　mattered　so　^much　to　her　was　of　absolutely　no　concern　to　him。
　Of　course　it　had　mattered　very　much　to　Chris；　who　was　the　one；　after　all；　who　made　use　of　most　of　the　money。　At　least　that　was　how　it　had　all　e　down　that　day　when　her　father　had　flown　in；　had　e　to　her　house　with　the　battery　of　local　detectives　he　had　hired。　It　had　all　been　there　for　her　to　read　in　the　report。　The　thing　had　so　shocked　her　that　she　had　hardly　been　able　to　utter　a　word　let　alone　protest　as　her　father　had　his　men　gather　up　her　clothes；　all　her　possessions。　He　left　them　to　it；　hustling　her　outside　and　into　the　waiting　limo。　She　had　not　said　a　word　all　through　the　flight　back　east。　Her　father；　sitting　across　the'　aisle　in　the　private　Lear　jet；　was　too　engrossed　in　reports　to　notice。　She　found　that　she　was　not　hungry；　nor　was　she　tired。　She　was　nothing。
　It　seemed　like　a　long　time　ago　now。　Years　could　be　like　lifetimes；　never　like　days。　This　is　what　came　to　her　on　the　plane　ride　back　to　New　York：　she　saw　their　old　country　house；　the　one　in　Connecticut　that　she　had　loved　so　much；　with　the　stone　walls　covered　with　green　creeping　ivy；　the　high　leaded…glass　windows；　the　flagstone　patio　and；　across　the　emerald　back　lawn；　beyond　the　unpaved　avenue；　the　brick…red　of　the　stables；　smelling　of　hay　and　manure　and　horse　sweat。　How　she　loved　that　place；　it　reminded　her　of　England；　somehow。　Not　like　the　new　place　on　Gin　Lane　out　on　the　Island。　Her　father　had　sold　the　old　house　just　after　Justine's　mother　had　died；　paying　two　and　a　half　million　for　the　estate　on　one　of　the　most　famous　streets　in　all　America。
　It　was　Easter…time　in　Connecticut。　She　was　eight。　Gelda　had　some　friends　over；　whom　she　did　not　like　or　just　did　not　want　to　be　with。　Her　mother　was　gone；　having　driven　into　town　to　do　some　shopping。　She　wandered　through　the　enormous　old　place；　the　large　bright　friendly　rooms　filled；　here　and　there；　by　the　busy　servants　preparing　for　a　formal　party　later　that　evening。　Peering　out　of　the　window；　she　discovered　that
　there　were　a　number　of　cars　in　the　semicircular　driveway　and；　as　she　went　down　the　long　curve　of　the　main　stairway　to　the　ground　floor；　she　could　just　make　out　voices　ing　from　behind　the　closed　doors　of　the　library。　Her　hand　on　the　knob；　turning；　and　she　pushed。
　'Daddy？'
　Her　father　had　indeed　been　inside。　He　was　with　a　group　of　men；　discussing　matters　that　had　no　meaning　for　her。
　'Justine；'　he　said　with　a　frown；　'you　must　see　that　I　am　busy　at　the　moment。'　He　made　no　move　towards　her。
　'I　just　wanted　to　talk　to　you。'　She　felt　utterly　dwarfed　by　the　circle　of　men。　One　of　them　shifted　unfortably　on　the　couch；　the　leather　creaking　under　his　weight。
　〃This　is　not　the　time。　Shall　I　fetch　Clifford。'　The　latter　had　the　form　but　not　the　inflection　of　a　question。
　She　looked　around　mutely。
　Her　father　reached　up　and　pulled　a　cord。　In　just　a　moment；　the　manservant　appeared。