But he wouldn't stop talking.
"Children sense things, don't you think?" he said. "I must haveknown something was wrong in that house. My father yelling at me all the time, my mother never there, there was tension in that house, you could cut it with a knife."
Silence.
She watched him on the bed.
Hands behind his head, staring up at the ceiling.
"I'll tell you the truth, I sometimes felt like killing her."
More silence.
Here it comes, Eileen thought.
"When I was a kid," he said.
And the silence lengthened.
"Fucking dedicated schoolteacher," he said.
She watched him.
"Ignoring the people who loved her."
Kept watching him. Ready. Waiting.
"I tried to make sense of it later, after she died. Left me all that money. This is for Robert's freedom to risk enjoying life. That was guilt talking, wasn't it? That was her guilt for having ignored us both."
Silence again.
"Do you know what she did once? Elga?"
"What did she do?"
"I was eight years old."
"What did she do?"
"She took off her bloomers."
Bloomers. A child's expression.
"Showed herself to me."
Silence.
"I ran away from her and locked myself in the bathroom."
Silence.
"My mother found me in there when she got home from school. Elga said I'd been a bad boy. Told my mother I'd locked myself in the bathroom and wouldn't come out. My mother asked me why I'd done that. Elga was standing right there. I said I was afraid of the lightning. It was raining that day. Elga smiled. The next time we were alone together, she hellip; she hellip; forced me to hellip;"
He sat up suddenly.
"Do you know the one about the guy who goes into a sex shop to buy a merkin? The clerk says, 'Did you want this sent, sir, or will you take it with you?' The guy says, 'No, I'll just eat it here.' " He laughed harshly and abruptly and then said, "How would you like me to eatyour pussy?"
"Sure," she said.
"Then take off your bloomers."
He swung his legs over the side of the bed.
"Come over here and take off your bloomers."
"You come here," Eileen said.
He stood up.
He put his right hand in his pocket.
She thought Yes, take out the knife, you son of a bitch.
And then she thought No, don't, Bobby.
And was suddenly confused again.
"Bobby," she said wearily, "I'm a cop."
"Sure," he said, "a cop."
"I don't want to hurt you," she said.
"Then don't bullshit me!" he said angrily. "I've had enough bullshit in my life!"
"I'm a cop," she said, and took the gun out of her bag, and leveled it at him. "Let's go find some help for you, okay?"
He looked at her. A smile cracked over his face.
"Is this a trick?" he said.
"No trick. I'm a cop. Let's go, okay?"
"Go where? Where do you want to go, baby?" He was still smiling.
But his hand was still in his pocket.
"Find some people you can talk to," she said.
"About what? There's nothing I have to say to hellip;"
"Put the knife on the floor, Bobby,"
She was standing now, almost in a policeman's crouch, the gun still leveled at him.
"What knife?" he said.
"The knife in your pocket, Bobby. Put it on the floor."
*'I don't have a knife," he said.
"You have a knife, Bobby. Put it on the floor."
He took the knife out of his pocket.
"Good, now put it on the floor," she said.
"Suppose I don't?" he said.
"I know you will, Bobby."