BARBARA PROBST SOLOMON
569
Daniel will keep .on sailing. But not in the same way again. No more
brash solo flights .
"You want me to help you get the ..." (I hesitate, because 1
hate calling the yawl by its real name . The
Adelina
!I.)
"your boat
back home?"
"Sweetie, yup."
"So help me. Explain how things work, okay?"
Daniel turns on a baseball game. Red Sox fan. "Lewis's death
affected me. Poor bastard, dying young. Oh, Elena, 1 know you
think me nutty because I talk to Adelina's ghost. Or-her presence.
But maybe you could use a few conversations with Lewis's spirit? I
mean he was a nice guy. Christ, it wasn't his fault .... You think,
when I introduce you as his widow, I am depriving you of your pre–
cious identity. Well, Elena, you screw good and you ain't dumb about
sex, and I screw good and I ain't dumb about sex. But for all your
brains you are dumb about the world and men. Look honey, except
for a few big time geniuses, writers come and they go . Just the hired
help. But you ain't no hired help - you are Lewis Becker's widow. A
Harvard widow. What gets a man about a woman is who has been
there before. Who has used the territory, and, explicitly, exactly
how.
If
the guy was first rate, that's what excites a man. A widow
ain't no reject. Honey, I may be rich but I ain't no bastard . I'm ex–
plaining it to you."
"Why didn't you sleep with Lewis?"
Daniel roars with laughter. "I switched to women for good
when I was eighteen . There ain't nothing you can say about sex,
because, Sweetie, I've tried it all." Daniel pauses, "Say, these are
great workbenches."
"Beds."
"Workbenches. Okay, okay. Beds. You win . ... Let's make
love." Soon we are going through the familiar gestures of what I like,
what Daniel likes . It is the one part of his life where he is oddly giv–
ing. His mouth, hands are tender. It's his voice that is never in–
timate . The wires have become crossed, there in the voice . And the
eyes. Askewly dull, at odds with the energetic body. While we are
making love, Daniel suddenly whispers: "You and me are on the
Adelina,
Christopher is still with us . I say, Elena, for Christ sake, he's
nineteen and horny. . . ." Involuntarily I suddenly glance at the
motel bedroom door. "Elena, Sweetie-he jumped ship . Stop worry–
ing. I say , Elena, give it to him, the two of you, on the bunk. In your
