'70
PARTISAN REVIEW
against his sides.
"Why?... Why do you want me to stay?"
She moved to him and touched his arm. She could feel the rough
tweed of
his
coat, the flesh beneath. "Why do you ask that?" she
said. "Why do you always bother with questions?"
He remained immobile, ignoring her hand.
"I would like to know," he said. "Why have you bothered with
me?"
She did not answer. Why, she asked herself, wrestling in
wonderment with the old question, why have I bothered with him,
why have I chosen him, why is it he.
"Is it," he asked, "because with me, it would be safe, because
with me you would not risk anything...a white woman like you?
Could you walk the streets with me proudly, in the daylight, and
show that I am your lover? Could you do that? Or is it because with
me it would not matter, because I'm a useful nobody...a lover only,
not a person?"
She felt his hand on her arm, shaking her. "Why don't you
answer? Are you afraid? Are you ashamed? Is it that you want a
lover only...and without any love?"
"No," she said, straining to release his grip from her. "No. Let me
go....You're hurting me... .Please let me go."
"You're afraid now," he said. "Now you're afraid. There's
just the both of us, and I know...I know about you, I know how you
mean to use me, and you're afraid what I might do."
"No...no..."
He loosened her arm and pushed her from
him.
"You," he
choked in contempt. "You damn bitch... You don't want to give any–
thing. You want only to take. You don't know how to give...."
"I do," she cried. "I do. Oh, I do...I do."
"What?" he asked. "What would you give?" He watched her
carefully, waiting.
She did not answer. She hid her face in her hands. "I would,"
she said, almost weeping. "Oh I would..."
But he did not wait. She heard the soft click of the door, and
when she looked up, he was gone. She sank down on the floor
and rocking herself, she wept. He would have loved me, she kept
saying
in
anguish, he would have loved me....
· · In a little while, she got up and put the chain ·back on the door.
