482
JOYCE CAROL OATES
SHELLEY: Tell me what to do-
PETER: Smile! Like this!
(with his fingers he forces her mouth into
a smile, which she holds, frozen)
That's better.
SHELLEY: Tell me what else to do. I can't remember. Should I move
my hands around when I talk? Should I toss my hair? Where is
the ceiling? Is it a low ceiling or a high ceiling? I'm sort of afraid
of bumping my head. . . . How far down are my feet from my
head? I'm afraid I might knock my chin against my knees. Tell
me what to do.
PETER: Go to the stove. See how supper is progressing. Fast!
(clap–
ping his hands
)
You are in the center of the city and in the center
of America. Between your legs
is
the center of the world. You
possess everything. You're as old as Buddha. You're immortal be–
cause you're a female. You mustn't let Peter V. down. You mustn't
drag him down with you.
SHELLEY
(puppetlike):
If
I reach out with my hand I can touch
things. I see this hand; I see it reaching out. It's my own hand. I'm
sure of that. Here is something that is not my hand....
(picking
up a knife, turning it in the air)
It wasn't in my hand a second
ago. It's something different from myself.... It's dazzling. The
light hurts my eyes. It has something to do with the parts of my
brain that are always going on and off, winking on and off, like
lights. They're lighting up now. It's like sparks, all that activity
in my head!
(turning, laughing;
PETER
is looking through his note–
book again)
It's like electricity, or bubbles
in
soda pop.... Peter
explained to me that he loved me. He said it was fate. He did
love me. He told me that I did not exist. He told me not to worry.
He told me he would take care of me. He told me I was light as
smoke, lovely in his arms, he entered me and the whole world
entered me with him, flowing along my veins, making my veins
bulge so that I thought they would burst. . . . And is that true,
Peter, that I don't exist?
PETER
(absentmindedly):
Absolutely. You do not exist.
SHELLEY: That I have no name?
PETER: I designate the spot you occupy by the word "Shelley." After
all, we found that name in your billfold. It seemed a convenient
word. You identified yourself in bright blue ink as "Shelley," on
the card called "Identification," and on your driver's license there
was another name, "Michele." So I could call you one name or the
other. I could call you
"s"
or "M." Also "Shell." Or "Michael,"
