PARTISAN REVIEW
445
I am young enough to be his daughter.
But his daughter does nothing but keep
away from him, right now she is bum–
ming around Europe and hasn't written
or telephoned for weeks, she wants to
be
free of her parents, but I am obedient
and stupid beside him in the car, listen–
ing. Yes, I think he would marry me.
He sees in me no life of my own, no dis–
tractions. Women are always after him
- beautiful women, actresses, models,
the wives of
his
wealthy friends - but
they are too healthy for him, too solid,
their beauty is too sure of itself, they
don't need him to fill them up. So he
turns to me. I will never alarm him
with my own life. I will never turn
weeping to him, confessing the death
inside me, the death of my childhood,
the trail of splattered blood leading to
my future.... I will say nothing about
the constant silence. Nothing about the
wall of craziness she hid behind. Al–
ways outside, out there in the world,
is the other side of that wall and I
will never get to it. I am trapped. I
keep following the trail of bloodstains
in my sleep or when I am awake, and
I am trapped in that hallway, I can't
escape. I really am dead, though I sit
here listening to this man, smiling. But
I
will
never tell him about it. I will tell
him nothing.
And so nothing will change. Nothing
is expected to change.
"What did the doctor say?" Vince
asks.
"The usual thing."
