The Demon

by The Demon

  Christmas morning they sat on the floor, around the tree, tearing paper off presents like little kids, and ooooooing and aaahbhhhhing and squealing and hugging and kissing and laughing. . . . There was a lot of laughter.

  They visited his folks, then hers, and when they got back home late that night, they were tired and exhilarated from the joy of a long Christmas day that exceeded anything experienced or anticipated. Harry tossed his coat on the couch and plopped in his chair. Linda folded herself on his lap and leaned her forehead against his for a moment, then kissed him. Merry Christmas, Mr. White, my handsome, loving husband.

  Harry smiled and twirled a finger in her hair and kissed her gently on the forehead, the rip of her nose and her lips. I love you. I love you very much, Linda White. You are my Merry Christmas.

  Lindas life was comfortable. She did not see as much of Harry as she would have liked; and did not fully understand his drive and need for success, but she accepted them and his schedule. And the time they did have together was truly theirs and very precious to her. There were rides and walks and shows and zoos and gardens and window shopping and dinners and nights just sitting at home and talking and laughing and feeling close in an inner and special way. There was,

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  for her, a completeness about their life. And she was certain that Harry felt that way too.

  He had a way of touching her and looking at her that made her feel special, that made her feel that no one and nothing else existed, and a gentle yet exciting glow would flow through her and shine in her eyes.

  And, from time to time, she would come home from work and find a note or card from Harry, and the card might have a picture of one of those funny-looking characters who looks like she is going ten ways at once and it might have some dumb caption like, Hey, whats for dinner, or something equally inane, but she loved it. Sometimes she would open an envelope and find a note saying, Hi, I love you. Or, See you soon, Mrs. White. P.S. I love you, baby. She would chuckle and glow with delight and add each new card or note to her existing collection.

  And, of course, it wasnt just the note or card itself that thrilled her so, that had her humming as she rode the elevator, and had her standing in the middle of the living room saying, Hello home. It was the idea that Harry would take the time out of his busy schedule to buy a card or write a note and then address an envelope and mail it. It just thrilled her to think of him thinking of her as she thought of him.

  And though she was not in love with her work, like Harry, she did enjoy it and had no problems in the office, and the days just seemed to gently slide by and away.

  But eventually a vague discontent started to gnaw its way into Linda Whites life. She knew the reason long before there was a conscious problem to be concerned about. She had always been aware that something was missing, and so when she became aware of a discontent within her, she knew what was causing it and so was not unduly upset or worried. Her only concern was what Harry would say, and she would find that out as soon as the time was right. In the meantime she just did not upset herself by worrying about it.

  One bright, clear yellow-green Sunday in May, about a month before their first wedding anniversary, they were

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  strolling through the Brooklyn Botanical Gardens looking at cherry blossoms. It was the first really warm day of spring, with a sky that was blue and a sun that you could feel thaw your bones—a day that comes only a few times a year when everything seems to be clean and crisp. The cherry trees seemed to be endless and they could feel the softness of the blossoms under their feet as they slowly went along the path. When they reached the end of the trees, they walked to the Rose Garden and sat on a bench in the sun. They sat quietly for a while, enjoying this land, this bit of enchantment, that seemed so far removed from the city that surrounded it. ...

  Linda caressed

  Harrys hand with her finger tips. She looked at him and smiled tenderly. He smiled too and kissed her on the tip of her nose.

  Harry ... I want something. I want it very much.

  Its yours.

  No sweetheart, smiling, Im serious.

  But so am I, returning her smile and kissing her on the nose again.

  O, you . . .

  They both laughed and finally Harry said, O.K., what is it?

  I want a baby.

  Right now, mock shock on his face, and here?

  Well, it just might take a little longer than that.

  Thats what I hear, smiling warmly and tracing the edge of her ear with his finger, even for the birds and bees.

  I dont know about the birds and bees—or butterflies either.

  Harrys eyes were open wide with surprise, Or butterflies either?

  Please dont tease me, Harry. I want a baby. Very, very much.

  Harry put his hands gently on her shoulders and bowed his head slightly, Your wish is my command. It is done, fair lady.

  It is? I guess Ive been misinformed all my life then. They laughed for a moment, then Linda suddenly put her arms around him, Ooooooooo Harry, I love you, and hugged him close to her.

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  Harry put his arms around her and kissed her on the cheek and the neck and the ear, I love you Mrs. White. We will make beautiful babies, Lindas eyes were closed and she was gently leaning into his kisses, and we may just as well start now.

  I think we/ll have to wait, her eyes still closed, at least until we get home.

  Chicken, still hugging and kissing her.

  Animal.

  They laughed and got up and started walking back, hand in warm hand, along the cherry-blossomed path.

  That September, the twenty-third to be exact, Linda told Harry that she was pregnant.

  Are you sure?

  Absolutely, smiling, I got the results from the doctor this afternoon.

  You mean you failed your rabbit test?

  It depends on your point of view. I would say I passed it.

  They laughed and Harry looked at her for a moment, then grinned broadly, Mama White. Well I/ll be damned. Isnt that something. When? How far along?

  Six weeks.

  You sure?

  Uh huh. Ive been checking the calendar.

  Harry laughed, You really do want a baby, dont you?

  Linda shook her head, a warm, contented smile on her face.

  Well, clapping his hands together, I guess the least I can do is take you, both of you, out to dinner. He chuckled, I cant get over it, Mother White. Isnt that something?

  Yes, it is, smiling and nodding her head, Papa White, putting her arms around him and snuggling into him.

  They were moved into their new apartment a few months before the baby was born. It was a beautiful place in the same

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  building, but higher, with a luxurious feeling of space and a magnificent view of Central Park. There was a den for Harry for the times when he had work he wanted to do at home, and a maids room, but Linda insisted she wanted to take care of her child and her home and so declined the services of a live-in maid, but she did allow Harry to make arrangements to have a cleaning lady come in a few times a week to help her with the heavier work. Theres no reason for you to have to take care of a place this large all by yourself. And anyway, we cant have the wife of an assistant vice-president in charge of foreign operations doing menial chores.

  Linda laughed and shook her ahead, All right, you win. But if I get fat and lazy, it will be your fault.

  They looked at her belly and laughed.

  Harry not only liked the apartment and the view, but loved the idea of living in a huge luxury apartment on Central Park West. It had been one of his goals—dreams—and now it was a reality.

  The pregnancy was comfortable for Linda and the delivery without complications. Of course it was late at night when Linda told Harry to take her to the hospital—I think its time —and early in the morning when she finally gave birth to their firstborn, a healthy boy. Harry sat with Linda until she drifted off to sleep, then he went
home and slept until noon before going to the office.

  He was still a little groggy, but elated. He told Wentworth, who slapped him on the back repeatedly, Thats the way, Harry. Theres nothing like having a son the first shot out. Thats great. Great.

  When Harry finished spreading the news through the executive suite, he got to work and soon was involved in it as usual, but he still felt that hot whirl of excitement inside him that made his face flash into a smile from time to time. Walt is right, it is good to have a son.

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  When he brought Linda and Harry Jr. home from the hospital, they put the baby in his bassinet and stood looking down at him for many minutes. He was amazing, absolutely amazing. Harry had never seen a newborn infant before. Hes so small. I cant believe how incredibly tiny he is.

  He may look tiny to you, sweetheart, but he did not feel tiny to me.

  Harry laughed and put his arms around her and hugged her gently and kissed her tenderly on the cheek. Its hard to believe that someday he will grow up and be a man, and everything.

  Linda laughed and shook her head. Let me enjoy my son for a few minutes before you pack his bag and send him off to college.

  O.K., laughing and hugging her, anything you say . . . Moms.

  They were new parents. And proud, especially strolling through the park on Sunday. And Harry was timid, too. He could not believe the ease with which Linda picked the baby up, turned him over, and rubbed this on him and took that off him and just sort of tossed him around. Harry held him occasionally, but was always afraid that he might hurt him. He was especially afraid that he might stick his finger in the soft area of his head or break this or that. Linda laughed and reassured him that the baby was a lot sturdier than he thought. After all, you are his father, and she would cuddle up to him.

  With the passage of time Harry became less timid, and Harry Jr. grew, seemingly in leaps and bounds, and felt more comfortable and secure in Harrys arms. It actually got to the point where Harry enjoyed holding him—for a few minutes. Harry thought of his son, and his wife, occasionally during the day, even while involved in his work. He liked the feeling he got thinking about them, and he enjoyed the feeling of anticipation he experienced on his way home at night. He enjoyed, too, kissing his wife when he got home, and putting his arm around her as they looked at their son.

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  Harrys hand slowly moved down Lindas back and he caressed her bottom and she cuddled into him and leaned her head against his chest. O, Harry, I love it when you touch me. Especially when you touch me like that, looking up at him and smiling, you sexy creature.

  I am, eh?

  Thats right.

  Well, I/ll tell you something, his hand slowly following the curve to her leg, you have the prettiest ass in town.

  Linda turned slowly until she was facing him and put her arms around his neck and leaned close to him and pecked him on the lips. I wish I could make that doctor understand how I feel. This six weeks before and six weeks after suddenly seems awfully long . . . and unfair.

  Harry laughed and kissed her on the tip of her nose. Maybe we should just shake hands, friend, until then.

  Dont you dare, pulling him close again. Put your hand back where it belongs.

  Yes, maam, slowly sliding his hand down her back, you mad and shameless hussy.

  O yes, I certainly am....

  One night Harry was waiting for Linda to come to bed, and when she came into the bedroom she was wearing the nightgown she had worn on their wedding night. It was thin and clung and flowed, and Harry tried to look at every curve as she slowly walked toward him. I havent seen that in a long time.

  Yes, I know. Much too long, sitting on the edge of the bed next to him.

  Hhhhmmmmm, that smells good. Whats the occasion for all this?

  O, toying with his hair, nothing much. Its just that your son is six weeks old today, raising her head and looking into his eyes, Harry raising an eyebrow and then a slight leering smile spreading over his face.

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  This somehow seems very familiar. O really, smiling coquettishly, I wonder why? Looks like I/ll have to take it off ... again. Why waste the time????

  Harry laughed and pulled her down beside him.

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  9

  Harry had been very surprised to learn how long they had been living a celibate life. Six and six are twelve. Krist, that three months. Thats one hell of a long time. It didnt seem possible, yet it had happened. Its amazing how time flies. Three whole (hole, hahaha) months.

  And during that entire time he had had no desire to go off by himself at lunch time and browse through the streets and stores. Since Linda had stopped working, he had lunch each day with Wentworth, and/or some of the other top level executives, in the type of restaurant that had always been a part of his goal and dream. He enjoyed dropping his credit card, nonchalantly, on top of the bill; and enjoyed the company of these men not only because they represented achievement, but because he knew that he would be returning directly to the office. He did not have to be on his guard.

  And, with this realization, came a feeling of security. Not

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  that it was specificially defined as such, but he enjoyed the feeling and found himself relaxing more. This too was a surprise as he was unware that there was any tension at all within him, other than that due to his work. Yet it was obvious that he was more relaxed. He thought about it occasionally but did not bother trying to analyze it; he just drifted along with it and enjoyed it. And, now that their love life was back to normal, these feelings of security and relaxation seemed to increase.

  The new operation at work had been running so smoothly that it had been many months since he had been late for dinner. On the occasions when extremely important representatives of foreign firms were in town for discussions and/or negotiations, he accompanied Wentworth, and the public relations people, but left when the business discussions were finished and did not get involved in the social activities. He also managed to nibble lightly at the food, so he could enjoy a late dinner with Linda when he got home.

  And that is what he intended to do on the night when he had to entertain two representatives of an international conglomerate from Belgium. Wentworth was a master at entertaining, and, as usual, the restaurant was elegant and the women were glamorous without being blatant; and Harry was consciously enjoying his increasing feeling of ease and security. He knew there was no need to be on guard, so he ate leisurely and enjoyed the entire meal, and when Wentworth suggested they continue the party in the suite, Harry joined them.

  The Belgians had selected their girls, and one of the others joined Harry on the couch. He had a drink or two and joined in the conversation and the telling of jokes and even danced a little with Marion. He enjoyed her company, but had no intention of taking her to bed. He was just going to hang around for a while to keep the party moving as it should, so there would not be an extra girl sitting around, and then he was going to go home.

  Soon he found himself alone with Marion and he just sort of shrugged inwardly and said to himself, what the hell, one

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  wont hurt. I wont even ball her. I/ll just get a little head and split. An hour later he left, first checking himself and his clothes carefully for lipstick marks.

  The next morning he woke up before the alarm went off and curled up in bed, cringing inside. He could hear Linda breathing softly behind him and he wanted to turn over and see if she was looking at him, but was afraid. He felt strangely conspicuous lying in bed; he had a feeling like he was crying inside and had a strong urge to say over and over, Im sorry. He wanted to get up and get into the shower, but thought he had better wait until the alarm went off. Thats what he usually did in the morning. At least he thought that was what he usually did. How could he not know what he did every morning? It did not make sense. Im sorry! Im sorry! Why doesnt that goddamn alarm go off. . . . Jesus, my stomach is screwed up. It just keeps churning and feels so hollow
. What in the hell is going on? This is crazy to suddenly feel so screwed up. Goddamn it, ring . . .

  and the seconds ticked a-

  way until the alarm finally went off, and he quickly got out of bed and hurried into the bathroom and the shower. He felt better as the water soothed him and he looked at the frosted glass on the door. He stayed in the shower much longer than usual, but eventually had to leave its comfort and security.

  He felt very shaky and edgy while eating breakfast and could not seem to look directly at Linda. Thank God the baby was making a fuss this morning and Linda could only talk to him over her shoulder or on her way into or out of the kitchen. He got through breakfast as fast as possible without being obvious. Actually he did not have to force himself to eat slowly as the food seemed to repulse him, and he had to force it into his mouth and force himself to chew it and then fight to swallow it and keep it down, studying the pattern on his plate the entire time. When he finally finished, he put on his jacket and managed to kiss Linda on the cheek before leaving.

  Krist, it felt good to be in the elevator. ... At least until it stopped and some fool got on and Harry looked down at his

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  shoes and the cuffs on his pants, his insides screaming at the elevator to hurry and get the hell to the bottom. . . .

  At

  last he was on the street. Damn, that nausea was really burning him up. Thats what he got for eating last night. Should have passed the goddamn food up. O screw it. Dont make a big deal out of a blow job for krists sake—comeon, comeon, comeon, move it lady. .. .