PARTISAN REVIEW
"'
it's the same. What have I done to deseIVe such despise? I need
some more wine."
Malcolm waved in the direction of the decanter, picked up the
rest of the pictures and sat down, dealing them in
his
lap. The robe
had slipped from
his
thighs, exposing clean milk-white flesh. Rollie
• filled
his
glass and paced the floor, sipping and waving as he walked.
"I know
this
may hurt you, but I see it as an act of compassion.
The right hand feeds the left, or something like that. I mean there
is nothing
wrong
in
this."
He took the pictures from Malcolm's
lap. "But do you think they would understand? I saw Buckley's
Proposal.
You and me, Malcolm, they are after us. The bearers of
light. Prometheans. That's what we are." He dropped the pictures
into Malcolm's lap. Malcolm leaned
his
head against the high back
of the Queen Anne chair with green and blue paisley slipcovers.
"As
a child I was the marble's champion of my street," Malcolm
said,
shuffling the pictures. "Mary Lee Danforth and I would play
doctor. Once I stuck my finger in her vagina for five marbles. She
didn't care. She was a terrible tomboy. All she wanted was the
marbles championship. When I was thirteen I offered Mary Lee my
marble collection. She asked me what I wanted for it. She would
have done anything, I guess. She didn't want the marbles anymore.
She was smoking by that time. I told her it was a gift. I wanted
nothing. Mary Lee ran off with a Mexican trumpet player when
she was fifteen. It was
this
finger." Malcolm lifted the index fmger
of
his
left hand.
"I use the middle finger," Rollie said.
"Yes," Malcolm said absently.
"I didn't mean anything," Rollie said.
"I want to show you something." Malcolm shuffled to the
closet in the foyer and took down a square tin canister from the
shelf. He held it in
his
upturned palms, bearing it like a precious
gift.
"I've kept
it
all
these years. Would you like to have it?"
Rollie hesitated, and then reached for the canister.
As
offered
the gift, Malcolm shuddered, his hand jerked back. Rollie flinched
and the canister fell to the floor, the lid popped off and the
marbles spilled to the floor.
As
they reached the end of the rug the
marbles clattered on to the wood.
Malcolm dropped to
his
knees and scurried along the rug. "My
marbles. I lost my marbles," he called out to no one in particular.
