Earthbound

by Richard Matheson

  She took the box from his hand. “Amour Exotica,” she read.

  “Shall we burn it?”

  She shrugged. “Why not?”

  He looked around, trying not to show his disappointment. “Wonder where it is,” he said.

  “What?”

  “The burner.”

  “Oh.”

  If he could trap her into finding it prove that she knew where it was … He turned to face her. “Maybe we can find it.” he suggested.

  Her smile insinuated that she knew he was playing a game of cat-and-mouse with her. David tightened, then restrained his temper. Maybe she didn’t know; he mustn’t defeat himself. “Let’s look,” he said.

  He watched her from the corners of his eyes as he moved around the room, trying to convince himself that what he was doing had significance. He tightened as she raised the right-hand window seat and looked inside. “Nothing here,” she said. She sounded bored and he winced, realizing that he was going to have to arouse her all over. The problem seemed insuperable and he felt like giving up. He resisted the urge and crossed to the other window seat. As he lifted it, a weight of new defeat pressed down at him. The incense burner was inside. Grimacing, he reached down and lifted it out. “Oh, good, you found it,” she said.

  He nodded curtly. “Let’s go down now.”

  “Do you really want to?” she asked. Her tone intimated that at the moment, she didn’t care one way or the other.

  Through sex, he thought determinedly, when the body was aroused, the mind was vulnerable. I should know, he thought bitterly as he moved to her and took her in his arms. “I’m sure,” he said.

  He kissed her on the mouth, rubbing harsh caresses over her body. Suddenly a new fear pressed at him. What if his own mind became vulnerable? He struggled to check the responses of his flesh. Pressing his cheek to hers, he held her tightly, pretending, for a moment, that it was really Ellen, that he held her in his arms with love.

  “You’re hurting me,” she snapped.

  He let go, stared at her. God, I can’t, he thought.

  “I don’t think you want to do anything,” she said disgustedly. “Give me the goddam keys and I’ll get a man myself.”

  He stiffened. “It’ll have to be me or no one,” he answered. “I won’t let you out.”

  For an instant, he was sure that she was going to lunge at him and, flinching, he prepared himself for her attack.

  It never came. Instead, surprisingly, she looked at him with pouting irritation. “Do something then,” she said.

  Relieved, he put an arm around her shoulders and led her toward the door. “Come on,” he said.

  She didn’t answer. Impasse, he thought, stricken. If he let himself become aroused enough to animate her, he might lose control and accomplish nothing. If he held himself in check, there might be no response from her at all. Again, he fought away despair. He couldn’t give up now. For a moment, he considered looking for a priest; but he wasn’t sure if it would help and he didn’t dare think of leaving her alone for any length of time. Even less would he dare take her with him for fear that she might get away from him and be lost forever. He had no choice but to do what he was doing: groping his way along, hoping for some unknown opportunity to present itself.

  “You feel cold,” he said.

  “I’m not.”

  “Wouldn’t you like a robe or something?”

  In that light, the scowl she gave him coupled with her garishly made-up face almost terrified him. She looked artificial—like some ghastly effigy of life. Averting his eyes, he moved ahead to the door and unlocked it, trying, in those moments, to regain his courage. He had to go on for Ellen’s sake; there was no other way.

  “You’ve forgotten how to put on make-up,” he said, turning back.

  “Which means—?”

  “Nothing.”

  Her lips pursed with doubt giving her the appearance of a resentful mannequin. “If you don’t like it,” she said, “there’s plenty of others who will.”

  For the first time since he’d run upstairs to find her on the bed, he sensed an air of defensiveness about her anger. He didn’t know exactly what it meant but it quickened him and he filed the observation for possible later use. “Don’t be so sensitive,” he told her. He put an arm across her shoulders, leading her into the hall. As they moved for the stairs, he reached down and squeezed her breast, gratified at the immediate reaction, her eyes hooding, her lips tensing back. “Nice?” he asked.

  “I don’t want to wait” she muttered.

  “Nicer in the studio,” he said.

  “You—” she glared at him “—bastard.”

  He tried not to show the increasing sense of hope he felt. He smiled and kissed her cheek. “What a thing to call the man who’s going to make love to you,” he said.

  “It isn’t love I want.”

  “No.” He swallowed. “It’s not”

  “And it’s not what you want either.”

  “Oh?” They started down the stairs. “What do I want?”

  “To grovel,” she said.

  “Oh. Yes.” He closed his fingers over her breast again, making her gasp. Suddenly, she turned and slid her arms around him, jamming her lips to his. He had to clutch at the bannister rail to keep from falling as she ground herself against him.

  “Here,” she whispered, “on the stairs.”

  He set his mind against her will. “The studio,” he said.

  Jerking free, she grabbed his arm and almost pulled him down the steps to the studio landing. She shoved open the door and tugged him inside.

  It was like entering the interior of a beaten tympani, he thought. All around him, rain was pounding on the roof and windows, so loudly that it drowned out the crashing of the waves. He shivered. The air was frigid. “Aren’t you going to be cold?” he asked.

  “No.” She drew him toward the couch. David wondered, with sudden fear, if she really was conjoint with Ellen’s flesh. What if she felt no discomfort from the cold, allowing Ellen’s body to become ill? He tried not to think about it as she led him across the room. Unexpectedly, a vision of Linda crossed his mind. She may die, he thought. He fought it off. One step at a time! It was all he could do.

  “I’ll open the drapes,” she said and, letting go, pulled one of them aside, admitting the grey illumination of the day which, filtered through rain-shrouded glass, textured the walls and floor with a jellylike pattern of light and shadow. She turned to him and grabbed his arm again, pulling him to the couch and sitting.

  David drew his hand away and held up the incense burner. “You’re forgetting this,” he said.

  “To hell with that!” She tried to slap it from his hand but he jerked it back. “I’m warning you,” she said. “I want it and I want it now.” The malignance in her voice chilled him but he managed not to show it.

  “Have to do it right” he said. “I thought you liked incense.”

  She didn’t answer and he felt the sullen fury of her behind him as he set the burner on the floor, removed its top and put in one of the shriveled cakes. Removing the book of matches from his pocket, he ignited it and held it to the incense. As the first fumes reached his nostrils, he almost gagged. It was the same thick, musky odor he’d been conscious of when he’d been with Marianna.

  He turned abruptly. In the wavering light she looked, to him, like some monstrous, over-sized doll. “I have to tell you something—Ellen,” he began.

  Her eyes narrowed.

  “I’ve been having an affair,” he said. “With this Marianna I’ve been mentioning. We did it on that couch.”

  She stared at him, visibly confused.

  “Nothing to say?” he asked. “You don’t mind? It doesn’t bother you that I’ve committed adultery right where you’re sitting?”

  “Why should—?”

  “Does it bother you?”

  “No!” she flared. “Why should it?”

  “I can see her again and you won’t mind?” She grimaced, l
ooking up at him in baffled silence. “You don’t mind?” he cried.

  “No!”

  He shuddered. “No, of course you don’t. Because you’re not my wife.”

  Her face contorted. “You dirty—!”

  David pushed her back as she tried to stand. “You gave yourself away,” he said, trying hard to sound amused and confident. “I hope you’re not so stupid that you’re still going to pretend you’re my wife.”

  Appalled, he watched the look of rage melting from her face. At last, she smiled. “But I am,” she said, “your loving wife.”

  David stared at her, feeling dazed and nullified. He’d accomplished nothing. So long as she continued claiming she was Ellen, he could never be positive that she wasn’t. The realization shook him.

  “Is that what you took me down here for?” she asked. “To convince me that I’m not your wife?” She made a scoffing noise. “You are an idiot.”

  He mustn’t stop. Desperate, David sat beside her, took her hand. She snatched it away. “Listen,” he said.

  “I don’t have to listen to you,” she said. She tried to stand but he grabbed her wrist.

  “You aren’t going anywhere!” He held her rigidly. “You may as well listen because you aren’t going to leave this house.”

  Her smile was thin, contemptuous. “What are you going to do?” she asked. “Chain me to the wall?”

  “You won’t get out.”

  “You’re going to break—my wrist if you don’t loosen up,” she said. He had the distinct impression that she’d been about to say: her wrist. He let his grip slacken but continued holding her. “Listen to me then,” he said.

  “Listening.” She yawned, looking toward the window.

  “I know you’re Marianna.”

  “Mm-hmm.”

  “I know you’re thrilled to possess a body again, to feel it and—see it.” He reached out with his free hand and turned her head so she’d look at him. “Listen,” he said.

  “Yes, yes, yes.”

  “It is a marvelous thing to have a body. But it’s more marvelous to have a mind, a soul. That you still possess. But you endanger it more with every minute you stay in this house—and in my wife.”

  He held up her arm. “This isn’t yours,” he said. “It’s not your body, you know that. It belongs to someone else. You’re dead, Marianna. You can lie about it all you want but you know you’re not alive, that you mock yourself insisting that you are. For the sake of your soul, release my wife and release your hold on this world. You don’t belong here anymore.”

  “Shut up,” she said. “Shut up. Shut up. Shut up!”

  “I’m telling you the truth, Mar—”

  “Shut-up!”

  David trembled with repressed excitement. He’d gotten through to her. “Will you leave her be?” he asked. “Do that much anyway. You can’t remain in her indefinitely.”

  Despite her fury, she was able to smile. “I think you’ve lost your mind,” she said. “How can you talk to me like that? Your own wife.”

  He stiffened with wrath. “All right” he said. “If that’s the way you want it.” He clamped his fingers on her wrist again. “Then listen to this. I know what you want. To you, this body is nothing but an instrument for sex. Well, I’ve got news for you, Marianna—”

  “Ellen.”

  “Marianna!” he shouted. “You’ll never get a chance to use this body. I’ll watch you every second—keep you tied up all day, drugged all night so I can sleep. You’ll never have another man as long as you stay in this body. You understand me, Marianna? Never! You won’t even get a chance to touch it!”

  Her expression told him that he’d frightened her and, before she could recover, he went on, “You’d better leave her, Marianna, leave her now. If you don’t, I promise you a nightmare. Before, you had this house, at least. You could move around in it and wait. Maybe a man would come, maybe you could control him. Not now, Marianna. Not now. You had only your sister to contend with then. Now you have me. I’m out of your reach but you’re not out of mine. This isn’t a body you’ve entered, Marianna, it’s a prison. And I’m your guard. You’re in solitary confinement and there you’ll stay, I promise you. Look forward to an endless agony, Marianna. An endless agony and nothing more—”

  He broke off, gasping, as her head dropped forward. She began to fall and he caught her startledly, his heartbeat jarring. “What—?” He stared at her in shock, not knowing what to do; he twitched as she slumped against him. With trembling fingers, he lifted her chin and looked at her. Her eyes were shut, her mouth hung open slackly. With a frightened whimper, David pushed two fingers underneath her left breast, relieved yet newly baffled by the steady pulsing of her heart.

  Shuddering, he lay her back and pushed to his feet. With nervous haste, he lifted her legs and swung them around to the couch, bending over to shift her limp weight until she was stretched out. Grabbing the blanket, he spread it across her, tucking it around her sides.

  He was just sitting down to chafe her wrists when she opened her eyes. She sobbed and, twisting over, pressed against him, clinging to his legs. “David.”

  He stared at her, dumbstruck. Gingerly, he ran a shaking hand across her cheek. “Ellen?”

  “Yes.”

  “Oh—!” He pulled her violently against himself, a groan of relief in his throat. “El … darling.”

  “David …”

  He kissed her cheeks, her lips, her throat. “Thank God; thank God.”

  “What happened? Did I fall asleep?”

  He hesitated. “Yes,” he said, “you did. Well, more than that but I’ll tell you about it later. Right now, let’s get out of here.”

  She blinked. “I feel so weak.”

  “No wonder.”

  “What happened?”

  “Oh—” He smiled infirmly. “It’s a long story, El; a long story.” He brushed the back of a hand across his wet cheeks. “I’ll tell you on the plane.”

  “Hold me, David.”

  “Yes.” He wrapped his arms around her, clasping her tightly as if to protect her from all danger. “God, I’m glad you’re back, El, I’m so glad you’re back.”

  “Back?” she asked.

  The sound he made was partly laughter, partly a groan of dismay at the prospect of explaining what had happened. “I’ll just have to tell you later, sweetheart. I haven’t got the strength right now, I really haven’t.”

  “All right.” She rubbed her hands across his back. “All right, darling.” She shivered. “I’m cold,” she said.

  “I know.”

  She looked around, perplexed. “Why are we in here?” she asked.

  “Part of the story, El. Such a story; you may never believe it”

  She shivered again. “So cold,” she murmured. She felt beneath the blanket. “I have nothing on,” she said, confusedly.

  “Come on, we’ll get you dressed.”

  She started up, fell back again. “I can’t,” she said, “I feel so weak.” Her teeth began to chatter. “And cold.” She looked at him pleadingly. “Lie beside me, David? Please?”

  “Yes, darling.” Hastily, he lay beside her, pulling the blanket across them both. She pushed against him with a groan, sliding both her arms around his body. David winced. “You are cold.”

  Shivering, she rubbed against him and he turned to face her. She slid her right leg over his left and pressed against him as hard as she could. “You’re so warm,” she said.

  “Oh, El.” He hugged her fiercely, eyes closed, his cheek pressed to hers. Thank God,” he thought. The nightmare was ended. They could go home now, see Mark and—

  David caught his breath, remembering. Opening his eyes, he said, “We better—”

  He stopped. She was smiling at him.

  “Ellen?”

  “What, darling?”

  “We’d better be on our way.”

  “Of course.” She kissed him gently. “Darling?”

  “What?”

  “
Before we go—”

  “Yes?”

  “Would you … make—love to me?”

  Something in the way she spoke the words made David freeze. He stared into her eyes, a crawling sensation on his scalp.

  “What is it, darling?”

  He couldn’t speak.

  “Don’t you want to?”

  “Make—love?” he asked.

  “Please.”

  Like a gush of icy water, fury shot up from the depths of him. He jerked away, his face gone rigid, pale.

  “What is it, David?”

  “Never mind the masquerade.” His voice was low and trembling.

  “Masquerade?”

  He jarred to his feet, glaring at her. “You miserable bitch,” he said.

  “I don’t under—”

  “Stop it! Marianna.”

  “What?” She gaped at him.

  “It’s over! Drop it! I know who you are!”

  “David, what’s the matter with you?”

  “I’m a gullible idiot, that’s what’s the matter with me,” he snapped. He felt like hitting her. “I should have known you wouldn’t give up that easily.” He leaned over her, scowling. “And you should have known that you aren’t clever enough to carry it off.”

  “David—”

  “Stop it!—damn you. I’m not buying it anymore, don’t you understand? You went too far. You always will. Do you really think my wife would talk of making love when our daughter may be dying in a hospital!” He grimaced with loathing. “Making love,” he said. “You couldn’t even say the words convincingly.”

  She made no attempt to answer him now.

  “You and your great love for Terry Lawrence,” he continued, scornfully. “All you love is flesh.” He sat beside her, grabbed her wrist again. “Well, nothing’s changed,” he said. “Nothing at all. I’m going to take you home and keep you locked up day and night.”

  She tightened. “Oh?”

  “Yes; Oh. Oh, Marianna. You haven’t got a chance.”

  “Maybe I’ll manage,” she said.

  “Will you, Marianna?”

  “I’m Ellen, darling; I’m your wife.” She smiled. “Why don’t you tie me to the couch now?”

  “You think you’re going to get away from me eventually, don’t you?”