– He doesn’t believe in you, Lord.
– He’s right not to believe in me. I’m not very believable. Besides, what have I ever done for him?
– You have led him to me!
– And you think you’re such a gift? You aren’t even honest with him!
– Yes I am, Lord, I am honest with him.
– You don’t tell him anything about your past.
– I tell him about my feelings.
– Oh for fuck’s sake. Go and take him a beer. He’s thirsty! I shouted & a few seconds later she entered the room carrying the beer smiling sweetly & kissing me all over & I didn’t know what to think.
Curiouser & Curiouser
This is how we communicate. How I’m finding out a little more about her. Is there really a possibility she doesn’t know it’s me doing the part of God?
This morning she painted as I sat beside her and read.
– Oh Lord! How long! she shouted suddenly.
– What?
– How much longer!
– How much longer what? Astrid, what are you talking about?
She wasn’t looking at me she was looking up at the ceiling. I thought for a few minutes then went into the next room & half closed the door & peering through the crack tried this experiment and shouted back How much longer for what? Be specific, my child.
I’m not a mind reader.
– The years! How much longer will I live?
– A long time! I said and watched the light behind her face galloping away.
I couldn’t get any more out of her after that.
& Curiouser
Only when painting her ghastly sickening faces does it happen. I was sitting on the toilet when I heard from the living room Lord! I am afraid! I am afraid for this baby!
I opened the door a little so she could hear me.
– That’s ridiculous! What’s there to be scared about?
Speaking as God from the toilet lent the whole situation some authenticity, the acoustics made my voice echo just like his would.
– Will he be a good father? she asked.
– He’ll do his best!
– He won’t stay. I know it. One day he’ll go and I’ll be alone with this baby this sick baby!
– There’s nothing wrong with the baby.
– You know he must be sick like me.
Then she laughed long & horribly & lapsed into silence.
These chat sessions with the Lord i.e. me seem to take on proportions of a fabulous opera. Calling out from across the room, she confides in me as never before.
– Lord?
– Talk to me.
– My life is a waste!
– Don’t say that.
– I have wandered everywhere! I have no friends! I have no country!
– Everyone has a country.
– I moved too fast! I saw too much! I forgot nothing! I am incapable of forgetting!
– Is that such a bad thing? So you’ve got a good memory. Listen, whose face are you painting?
– My father.
– Really!
– My father’s father.
– Well, which is it?
– My father’s father’s father.
– Listen, Astrid. Do you want me to smite you?
She said nothing more. I’d put the fear of Me into her.
Sigh
Eddie & I discussed tonight my pathetic financial situation & he offered to give me money not as loan but as gift. Out of fictitious pride I refused it biting my inner lip. Wandered streets randomly picking cafés & asking in patchy French if I might work there. Answers came in wordless sneers. What am I going to do? Clock’s ticking. A nine-month gestation period just isn’t enough preparation time. I pray the baby won’t be premature- undercooked people are trouble.
Love Is Hard Work
I was in the kitchen & Astrid in the living room painting her soul’s leftovers & I heard her shout Dieu!
– What?
– Dieu! Vous êtes ici? Pouvez-vous m’entendre?
– English, my child.
– I saw a child’s corpse today, oh Lord.
– Yuck. Where?
– Outside the hospital. A couple were carrying him in their arms to the emergency room, they were running but I saw that the child was already dead.
– That’s hard, I said.
– Why did you take him, O Lord?
– Why blame me? I was nowhere near that kid!
She fell silent for ten minutes then said Where are you, Lord?
– In the bathroom.
– WHERE ARE YOU, LORD?
– IN THE BATHROOM!
– What if after the baby’s out, nothing’s changed?
– Are you nuts? A baby changes everything.
– But inside me? In my blood.
– Astrid, have you been to the doctor’s?
– Yes, God, I’ve been to doctors in Austria & in Italy & in Greece & in Germany & in Turkey & in Poland & they all say the same thing. I have the healthiest blood they’ve ever seen.
– Well, there you go. Did you really go to a doctor in Turkey? Did he wash his hands?
– I’m doomed.
– You’re imagining it. There’s nothing wrong with you. Everyone says so. You’ve been given a clean bill of health. You can’t go on imagining there’s something wrong with your blood. That’s just crazy talk, OK?
– OK.
– Are we together on this?
– Yes, Lord.
– Good. Now what’s for dinner?
Three in the Morning
Tonight I worked!
Eddie- without consulting me- convinced someone to give me a job.
– I didn’t authorize you to do that.
– You’re almost out of money. You’ve got a child to think about now.
– Well, all right then, what will I be doing?
– You’ll be working with me. Loading crates.
– That sounds all right.
– It’s hard, backbreaking work.
– I’ve heard about that kind of thing I said wondering why people always boast about doing something that breaks your back.
Pont Neuf at dusk- no boats. Dark waters of the Seine, not flowing. We waited on the stone banks of the river & watched the brown water just sit there.
– What do we do now? I asked.
– We wait.
Boats & barges ambled languidly by. A soft rain fell & night fell down with it. Colored city lights reflected on the body of the river. Rain fell unabated.
Two hours later Eddie said Here we are then.
The boat came forward relentlessly, a nightmare littered with heavy packing crates. Two men stepped off, faces hardly visible between where beanies stopped & scarves began. We worked wordlessly in the anonymous night clearing crates one by one from the boat & carrying them up the ramp to the street where truck was waiting.
Driver of truck had sluggish dozy eyes & as we worked I tried guessing his inner sufferings but couldn’t come up with anything other than “hates to work at night.” Eddie & I unloaded those heavy crates for hours while others shouted orders to each other in harsh whispers. By end as the empty boat putted out to sea my everything hurt.
Driver of truck gave Eddie envelope & we walked off together sweating in the cold moonlight. Eddie handed envelope to me, in an attempt to get me to keep all the money to feed my sudden & unwanted family but I gave him half- my greedy self chafing against my principled self.
I came home & was distressed to see I was spotless after heavy night of toil. Imagined my face would be covered in black soot but there’s just no soot in lifting crates no matter how heavy they are.
– How was it? Astrid asked as if I’d been to see a much-hyped movie. I looked at her belly & it occurred to me there was nothing inside not a baby not even a digestive system just a vacant hollow shell puffed up with air & I walked over & put my hand on her growth which she took as a loving gesture & she kissed my hand which made me feel cold all over & I thought I am incapable of loving this woman the mother of my child, and maybe I won’t be able to love the child either. And why am I like that? Is it because I have no self-love? I have self-like but is it enough?
A Week Later an Accident