PARTISAN REVIEW
473
of the world.... Where is Peter? He hasn't been up here for
three days. I need Peter. He should return in the next hour. Peter
can hold back all this crowd,
all
these people. He understands.
I need him, I need medicine from him, help from him, I am
in
love with him and he gives me love. Sometimes he presses me flat
against the floor, right against the floor, so that I can't move. Then
he breathes into me. . . . My head aches. I can't see right. Are the
corners of this room fixed right?
The people who will come in this room are: Peter V., my lover;
my father, who is on his way here now; and another man who is
a mystery, Martin Raven, my new husband. Three men, and my–
self. There is a crowd of men around me.
(she brushes at her hair
with her hands, quickly, coquettishly)
I wonder if I'm still pretty?
Peter forgot to bring a mirror up. He said he would, then he forgot.
I have been in this room for a long time now; I don't go out.
They don't let me out. I would hurt myself outside on the street,
anyway . . . it's crowded out there, it's like an army marching
and stomping up and down the street, somebody might knock me
down. I don't think the door there is locked, but Peter V. told me
never to leave and so I can't leave. He gave me absolute instruc–
tions ten days ago, or a month ago. I don't remember.
If
he hadn't
forbidden me to leave I think I would leave . . . I'm hungry,
1
think I would leave ... I would walk over to the door
(she walks
to the door),
I would see if I could open it ...
(she opens the door,
which is not locked)
...
and if it was unlocked I would leave.
But it's locked. It's been locked for a month now. I can't get out.
SHELLEY
stands at the door, gazing out abstractly. She speaks
in a singsong, monotonous voice, which gradually becomes more
animated, more excited.
SHELLEY: Outside this door there is a corridor. The plaster is falling
down. I can see the top of a stairway. There are doors along the
corridor - some of them are open. Some are closed. Listen! -
is
that someone crying?
(She listens. No sound.)
I think there are
many people in this building besides myself. I heard some girls
giggling last night. Little girls. There are thuds, screams, long
monotonous arguments, radios, televisions, footsteps. . . . This
is
Peter's building and he can populate it the way he wants. He
loves many girls, not just me. I know this. I'm not jealous. I'm
not certain of my body
(she touches herself vaguely)
so how can
I be jealous? How can I be jealous of what he does to other bodies
