JOYCE CAROL OATES
581
But he should cancel their plans for the evening, at least, Philip
says. He had better call the Consulate....
No, says Cecilia, that isn't necessary.
If
she doesn't feel up to
going out by eight o'clock he must go alone, certainly there's no need
to cancel his evening, the dinner after all is primarily in his honor
and not hers.
But he couldn't do that, he couldn't leave her . ...
Yes, please , oh yes, Cecilia says, trying to calm herself, she
isn't at all injured, she's only a little shaken, if she can be alone for a
while . . . if she can relax in a hot bath. . . . Please won't he believe
her? Won't he leave her alone?
Cecilia has managed to unlock her door. Philip, reprimanded,
rebuffed, doesn't try to follow her inside the darkened room. He
stands in the doorway, staring, so visibly distraught that Cecilia
can't bear to look at him.
He knows,
she thinks.
That's why he's so
afraid.
As Cecilia is about to close the door he says, again,
in
a falter–
ing voice, that he'll be happy to cancel their plans for the evening if
she wants him to. He doesn't want to go to the dinner alone, he'd
only be thinking of her,
is
she all right ... really?
"Yes," Cecilia says, her face now streaked with tears. "Yes . Of
course .
Yes.
Thank you for asking."
As she is undressing the telephone rings. It is Philip, agitated,
rather more aggressive. Where exactly did she fall?- did someone
push her?- was her wallet taken?- why did she stay out so long,
alone?-
it was one of those soldiers, wasn't it-
Cecilia quietly hangs up. The phone doesn't ring again.
In her bath she lies with her head flung back and her eyes shut
tight, tight. It is her head that aches, that buzzes, the other parts of
her body are numbed and distant. Her buttocks are not sore-they
have no sensation at all.
She imagines her mother, her mother's sisters, even her father,
her family's neighbors, gathered to sit in judgment on her. Whisper–
ing among themselves that Cecilia Heath should not be traveling
with a man not her husband . . . a man who is another woman's
husband ... even if they are not lovers. Especially if they are not
lovers.
It isn't like Cecilia. It
isn't
Cecilia.
She recalls her first gynecological examination at the age of
eighteen, the sudden piercing pain, the surprise of it, the uncon–
trolled hysterical laughter that had turned to sobs . . . and hadn't
