Taken by itself, it’s not an important failure. But it opens a door that’s difficult to close and you’re persuaded to believe that what appeared to indicate an insensitivity goes much deeper: Abi is contemptuous of everyone and, though you’re getting the best part of her, the kisses, the smiles, the sex, you conclude that her passion for you must be counterfeit and what you have assumed to be gentle teasing in regard to the movies you like, the books you read, your favorite foods, everything, has always borne the stamp of contempt…and yet you refuse to accept this as true. Your ego won’t permit it, nor will logic. If she feels nothing for you, why hook up with you? You decide you must be missing something. She displays such a narrow range of emotions, perhaps you’re overlooking some nuance that distinguishes her disdain from her affection. You can’t quite accept that, either (you’re not sure which are less trustworthy, your judgments or her emotional responses), but it makes a good fallback position.
One night, coming home late from lab, you round the corner onto your block and spot Abi standing in the doorway, dressed in her green silk robe, talking to two figures on the porch—they’re partially silhouetted by the light issuing from inside the house and are wearing purple sweatshirts with the hoods up. You can’t tell much about them, but you assume them to be men since they’re considerably taller than Abi. Startled, because this is the first time you’ve seen her speak to anyone except busboys and waiters and the like, you slip behind a fir trunk across the street and spy on them. You can’t hear what’s being said, but every so often, over the ambient noise, you catch a fragment of a gruff voice. Abi stands with her arms folded; the men’s hands are at their sides. Solicitors, you think. You get lots of Greenpeace people in the neighborhood, Secretaries For A Better Tomorrow, that sort of thing, most of whom Abi rebuffs, pissing them off by saying it’s too late to save the planet their way. But that notion takes a hit when one of the men puts his hand on Abi’s shoulder, a gesture you interpret as affirming, as if he’s saying, Be strong or something similar. With that, the men trot down the steps and walk briskly away. As they pass beneath the streetlight, you notice their sweatshirts are identical, each bearing letters that spell out Washington Huskies Athletic Department. Their jeans and running shoes, also identical, look to be brand new, but the light shows nothing of their cowled faces. Abi gazes after them and, with a sharp glance in your direction, goes inside and shuts the door.
“I saw you lurking,” she says as you enter and toss your pack on the sofa.
“I wasn’t lurking.”
“Do you always hide behind a tree before you come in?”
“I was surprised you had company.”
“Well, if you’d acted normally, I could have introduced you.”
“You should have called me over.”
“I didn’t want to interfere with your lurking.”
She passes into the kitchen and you follow, watching her ass roll under the green silk.
“Who were they?” you ask.
“Just some friends. Mike and Rem Gregory. You’d like them.” She peers inside the refrigerator.
“Rem? Like rapid eye movement? Like the band?”
She moves a Tupperware container aside. “I think it’s short for something.”
“So are they twins?”
She frowns at you over her shoulder. “No. Why would you say that?”
“Because they dress alike. You don’t see a whole lot of that these days…adults dressing alike.”
She takes out a bottle of water. “They’re eccentric, but they’re angels, really. I’ll have them over to dinner some night.”
“That’s cool. Maybe next week sometime.”
“They stopped by on their way out of town. I’m not sure when they’re getting back.”
“Yeah, well, let’s do it for real. I’m looking forward to meeting them.”
“For God’s sake, stop it!” Abi gives an inarticulate yell and throws the bottle at you. Thankfully, it’s plastic and her aim is off. “You’re always picking at me! You’re always prying and sneaking around!”
“What do you mean? I’m not sneaking around!”
“What do call hiding behind a tree? Then you stroll in asking all these questions about Mike and Rem.”
“Are you insane? I was making conversation. I don’t give a fuck about your fucking friends!”
Abi stares coldly at you; she takes off her pearl spider ring and sets it on the edge of the sink.
You laugh. “What…you gonna take a swing at me?”
“I’m insane, I’m liable to do anything.”
“Calm down, all right?”
Without further warning, she hurls herself at you, scratching, clawing at your face, and slams you back into the stove. You cover up, but a fingernail clips you near the eye; you feel wetness on your cheek and push her away. She reels off-balance and goes staggering through a door that leads into a hallway. Her robe fallen open; breasts swaying; panting; hair in disarray; she looks like the poster girl for a bad acid trip. She rushes you again. This time you control her wrists, spin her around and the two of you go dancing across the kitchen. Momentum carries you out into the hallway, where you manage to pin her against the wall. She tries a knee that you block by flattening her with your body.
“Calm the fuck down!” you shout.
She snaps at you, snagging your lower lip. She struggles to break free, but gives it up after a few seconds. She slumps, her face empties.
“You okay?” You relax your grip slightly, and she tries to head butt you. “Goddamn it!” With your right hand, you clamp both her wrists above her head, and put your left hand at her throat to restrain her.
“Want to rough me up?” She lets out a peal of laughter that would not sound out of place echoing down the corridor of an asylum. “Come on! Rough me up!!”
“What the hell’s wrong with you?”
“Can’t you handle it?” She grinds her pelvis against you. “Come on, bitch!”
“Take it easy!”
She snaps at you again, but less fiercely, more a love bite, and keeps saying, half under her breath, “Come on, come on!”, taunting you, turning the fight into animalistic foreplay. You’re bleeding from the corner of your eye and from your lip, but you go with the moment and drag her into the bedroom, shove her down onto the bed. She raises her knees, opens to you, laughing now, and soon you’re going at it like beasts.