“I do,” I say.
“So do I.”
“But if I had said I didn’t, what would you have said?”
“I would have wondered why you didn’t want to anymore.”
“You would have wondered but would you have said it?”
“I might have. But because I do want to sleep with you or make love or both, I would have said it in a way which wouldn’t have done anything to discourage you from wanting to sleep with me or make love or both, or I at least would have tried to say it in that way.”
“What way would that be?”
“Gently. Sincerely. Lovingly, I suppose. Surely softly, if that isn’t the same thing as saying it gently. But you know. I might have taken your hand.” She takes my hand. “Like this. My hand around yours. And then got up on my side, like this, and said very gently and lovingly or not very but just gently and lovingly and the rest of those ways… what was it I would have said? I forget.”
“You mean before in response to my saying what would you have said if I had said I didn’t want to sleep or make love with you or both anymore?”
“That’s right. I would have said softly and sincerely, as I’m doing, lovingly and gently, as I’m still doing, and with my torso up on its side, as I’ve done and it still is, and my hands where they are now, Why don’t you want to sleep with me or make love with me or do both with me now? Is it something I said?’”
“You would have said Ts it something I said?”
“I would have, yes,” she says. “And if I had said all that in the way I said it and with my torso and hands the way they still are, what would you have said and done to me?”
“I would have got up on my side, facing you, as I’m now going to do, but carefully, so your hand wouldn’t slip off my neck—”
“It’s okay. If it slips I can put it back.”
“And with my other hand still in your hand, as it still is, and also lovingly and sincerely and gently and softly, though maybe not as gently and softly as you said it, since I don’t seem to be able to get my voice as gentle and soft as yours, possibly because of our respective sexes and because of that, our different vocal quality and tone. And maybe also because of our different personalities and sensibilities and backgrounds or something, though I don’t know the physical and characteristical reasons why that should be so. But I would have said *No, it wasn’t anything you said. I simply don’t want to make love or sleep with you right now, that’s all.’”
She takes her hand off mine and other hand off my neck and says “You would have said that?”
“I wouldn’t have.”
“Then why’d you say it?”
“I didn’t say it as if I meant it but just to see what your reaction would be like.”
“And what would it be like?”
“Not ‘would’ but ‘was.’ You took both hands away from me but kept your torso on its side facing mine, and in a voice not as gentle and soft and loving as before but as sincere, you said Tou would have said that?’”
“Would you like to know why I reacted that way?”
“I can guess.”
“Go ahead and guess then,” she says.
“Because you probably believed that I didn’t want to make love or sleep with you right now. Is that it?”
“I’m not saying.”
“Can I ask how come?”
“You can ask.”
“How come?”
“I’m not saying.”
“Can I ask how come?”
“You already asked how come and I already said I’m not saying.”
“That was to something else” I say. But can I make a guess why you’re not saying anything to any of my questions?”
“Make a guess. But I won’t tell you if your guess is accurate or not.”
“Can I ask how come?”
“Again, you can ask, but I’m not saying, I won’t say, and that’s that.”
“You’re not saying what?”
“I’m not saying, period.”
“Why not? You answered all my other questions till now, if not directly then indirectly, but you gave me answers at least, just as I did to you in either of those two ways.”
“I thought by me saying ‘I’m not saying’ I was giving an indirect answer. You didn’t get it?”
“No. But now that I know it was an indirect answer, maybe it’ll be easier to get. Give me time to think.”
She takes my hand.
“I think I’m getting it,” I say.
She puts her other hand on the back of my neck.
“Now I get it. Or I’m almost sure I got it.”
“From now on I’ll only say ‘what?’” she says.
“You don’t want to talk anymore?”
“What?”
“You just want to make love or sleep or some other figure of speech with me, but you think talking about it too much sort of kills it?”
“What? What?” She brings her lips close to mine.
“You want to kiss and take off my clothes or have me take them off and also your clothes off or you want to take off your clothes by yourself? You want us to do all that or some of those or more?”
“What? What? What?”
“You want me to turn off the light or make it less bright by turning off one or two of the lamp’s three bulbs, and you also want us to get closer, not just our lips, and do other things with our bodies and more? Am I right?”
“What? What? What? What?”
“Just say I’m right.”
“What? What? What?”
“I’m sure I’m almost right.”
“What? What?”
“I’m going to have to turn around to turn off the light or to turn it down, all right?”
“What?”
I turn around to the lamp on the night table on my side of the bed. Her hand slides off my neck onto my hip. Her other hand stays around mine but she’s squeezing it now when she wasn’t before. Her face is no longer near mine but it probably will be again once I turn the light off or down and turn back around. I turn off all three bulbs. It’s still daylight out but gray because of the clouds and rain, and the room’s dark mostly because of the tall trees that surround the house. I turn around and face her. I can’t see her face but can her form. She puts her hand back on my neck and her mouth close to mine. “I want—” I start to say, but she takes her hand off my neck and puts one finger across my lips to stop me from saying whatever I was going to say, which was “I want to tell you that I love you very very much,” and takes her finger away and kisses my lips.
The Dzanc Books rEprint Series
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
The author and the publisher wish to express their grateful acknowledgement to the following periodicals in which these stories first appeared: “Magna as a Child” and “Only the Cat Escapes” in South Carolina Review; “Cooked Goose” in Florida Review and Grub Street; “Friends” in Fiction International; “Magna as the Good Wom
an” in Chouteau Review; “pp. 201-204” in Asylum; “Training to Magna” in Telescope; “Finished” in Poet & Critic; “Magna Out of Earshot” in Corona; “Will the Writer” in Other Voices.
Copyright © 1990 Friends: More Will and Magna Stories by Stephen Dixon
Cover design by Steven Seighman
978-1-4804-8329-3
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