STORIES
Harold Brodkey
THE PAIN CONTINUUM
Momma occasionally displayed me naked to visitors . My
sister Nonie often offers me to girls who will play with her- they can
play with me, play house.
They can dress and undress me . The other girl may become senti–
mental, impassioned and busy, speechless . I may touch her hair , rub
my cheek against hers, kiss her , even on the mouth .
It
is maddening to be liked , to feel things-a thick, suffocating
blanket that teases me and makes me fall on it, and roll, flattening
it-a comforter-and seeing it rise , seeing it fluff up again .
I might strut, my belly out : I like to have my belly kissed–
patted : I might throw myself onto the girl's lap, or into her arms,
wriggle, then jump away, run off, hide; I may lurk in a hiding place : I
will jump out, having become what the grownups call' 'wild."
Nonie and I go out into the wind . Giant paddle wheels of wind ,
atop the ridge, huge , skeletal vanes turn; and as they do , lift and
flutter everything.
I am coated and trousered, suspendered, snapped and zipped,
buttoned up, hatted, mittened, choked in thick, warm, puffy masses
of insulation.
I am artificially pudgy-imprisoned.
I manage to get my hat off: my scalp crinkles : my whitish hair
whips and snaps: my nose stings in the icily gliding and flapping air.
While I do this-remove my hat with my mittened hands-I drag
my feet: Nonie says, "You walk just like a baby-oh you don't know
how to walk right-you ' re so dumb.... "
My big wind-invaded-now jacket. Sun and wind tease my eyes. I
