cb.imajica1-第6部分
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ht as if by the sun off a wing in the stratosphere； she saw Gentle； his hair swept back from his high forehead； his gray eyes al！ yearning； his mouth； which she'd not known she missed till now； ready to break into a smile。 It never came。 The wing dipped； the stranger turned； Gentle was gone。 She stood in the throng for several seconds while he disappeared downtown。 Then； gathering herself together； she turned her back on the mystery and started home。
It didn't leave her thoughts； of course。 She was a woman who trusted her senses； and to discover them so deceptive distressed her。 But more vexing still was why it should be that particular face； of all those in her memory's catalogue； she'd chosen to configure from that of a perfect stranger。 Klein's Bastard Boy was out of her life； and she out of his。 It was six years since she'd crossed the bridge from where they'd stood together； and the river that flowed between was a torrent。 Her marriage to Estabrook had e and gone along that river； and a good deal of pain with it。 Gentle was still on the other shore； part of her history： irretrievable。 So why had she conjured him now？
As she came within a block of Marlin's building she remembered something she'd utterly put out of her head for that six…year span。 It had been a glimpse of Gentle； not so unlike the one she'd just had； that had propelled her into her near…suicidal affair with him。 She'd met him at one of Klein's parties…a casual encounter…and had given him very little conscious thought subsequently。 Then； three nights later； she'd been visited by an erotic dream that regularly haunted her。 The scenario was always the same。 She was lying naked on bare boards in an empty room； not bound but somehow bounded； and a man whose face she could never see； his mouth so sweet it was like eating candy to kiss him； made violent Jove to her。 Only this time the fire that burned in the grate close by showed her the face of her dream lover； and it had been Gentle's face。 The shock； after so many years of never knowing who the man was； woke her； but with such a sense of loss at this interrupted coitus she couldn't sleep again for mourning it。 The next day she'd discovered his whereabouts from Klein； who'd warned her in no uncertain manner that John Zacharias was bad news for tender hearts。 She'd ignored the warning and gone to see him that very afternoon； in the studio off the Edgware Road。 They scarcely left it for the next two weeks； their passion putting her dreams to shame。
Only later； when she was in love with him and it was too late for mon sense to qualify her feelings； did she learn more about him。 He trailed a reputation for womanizing that； even if it was ninety percent invention； as she assumed； was still prodigious。 If she mentioned his name in any circle； however jaded it was by gossip； there was always somebody who had some tidbit about him。 He even went by a variety of names。 Some referred to him as the Furie； some as Zach or Zacho； or Mr。 Zee； others called him Gentle； which was the name she knew him by； of course； still others； John the Divine。 Enough names for half a dozen lifetimes。 She wasn't so blindly devoted to him that she didn't accept there was truth in these rumors。 Nor did he do much to temper them。 He liked the air of legend that hung about his head。 He claimed； for instance； not to know how old he was。 Like herself； he had a very slippery grasp on the past。 And he frankly admitted to being obsessed with her sex。 Some of the talk she'd heard was of cradle…snatching； some of deathbed fucks： he played no favorites。
So； here was her Gentle： a man known to the doormen of every exclusive club and hotel in the city； who； after ten years of high living had survived the ravages of every excess； who was still lucid； still handsome； still alive。 And this same man； this Gentle； told her he was in love with her and put the words together so perfectly she disregarded all she'd heard but those he spoke。
She might have gone on listening forever but for her rage； which was the legend she trailed。 A volatile thing； apt to ferment in her without her even being aware of it。 That had been the case with Gentle。 After half a year of their affair； she'd begun to wonder； wallowing in his affection； how a man whose history had been one infidelity after another had mended his ways； which thought led to the possibility that perhaps he hadn't。 In fact she had no reason to suspect him。 His devotion bordered on the obsessive in some moods； as though he saw in her a woman she didn't even know herself； an ancient soul mate。 She was； she began to think； unlike any other woman he'd ever met； the love that had changed his life。 When they were so intimately joined； how would she not know if he was cheating on her？ She'd have surety sensed the other woman。 Tasted her on his tongue； or smelled her on his skin。 And if not there； then in the subtleties of their exchanges。 But she'd underestimated him。 When； by the sheerest fluke； she'd j discovered he had not one other woman on the side but two； it drove her to near insanity。 She began by destroying the contents of the studio； slashing all his canvases； painted or not； then tracking the felon himself and mounting an assault that literally brought him to his knees； in fear for his balls。
The rage burned a week； after which she fell totally silent for three days： a silence broken by a grief like nothing she'd ever experienced before。 Had it not been for her chance meeting with Estabrook…who saw through her tumbling； distracted manner to the woman she was…she might well have taken her own life。
Thus the tale of Judith and Gentle： one death short of tragedy； and a marriage short of farce。
She found Marlin already home； uncharacteristically agitated。
〃Where have you been？〃 he wanted to know。 〃It's six…thirty…nine。〃
She instantly knew this was no time to be telling him what her trip to Bloomingdale's had cost her in peace of mind。 Instead she lied。 〃I couldn't get a cab。 I had to walk。〃
〃If that happens again； just call me。 I'll have you picked up by one of our limos。 I don't want you wandering the streets。 It's not safe。 Anyhow； we're late。 We'll have to eat after the performance。〃
〃What performance？〃
〃The show in the Village that Troy was yabbering about last night； remember？ The Neo…Nativity？ He said it was the best thing since Bethlehem。〃
〃It's sold out。〃
〃I have my connections。〃 He gleamed。
〃We're going tonight？〃
〃Not if you don't move your ass。〃
〃Marlin； sometimes you're sublime〃 she said； dumping her purchases and racing to change。
〃What about the rest of the time？〃 he hollered after her。 〃Sexy？ Irresistible？ Beddable？〃 。
If indeed he'd secured the tickets as a way of bribing her between the sheets； he suffered for his lust。 He concealed his boredom through the first act； but by intermission he was itching to be away to claim his prize。
〃Do we really need to stay for the rest？〃 he asked her as they sipped coffee in the tiny foyer。 〃I mean； it's not like there's any mystery about it。 The kid gets born； the kid grows up； the kid gets crucified。〃
〃I'm enjoying it。〃
〃But it doesn't make any sense；〃 he plained； in deadly earnest。 The show's eclecticism offended his rationalism deeply。 〃Why were the angels playing jazz？〃
〃Who knows what angels do？〃
He shook his head。 〃I don't know whether it's a edy or a satire or what the hell it is；〃 he said。 〃Do you know what it is？〃
〃I think it's very funny。〃
〃So you'd like to stay？〃
〃I'd like to stay。〃
The second half was even more of a grab bag than the first； the suspicion growing in Judc as she watched that the parody and pastiche was a smokescreen put up to cover the creators' embarrassment at their own sincerity。 In the end； with Charlie Parker angels wailing on the stable roof and Santa crooning at the manger； the piece collapsed into high camp。 But even that was oddly moving。 The child was born。 Light had e into the world again； even if it was to the acpaniment of tap…dancing elves。
When they exited； there was sleet in the wind。
〃Cold； cold； cold；〃 Marlin said。 〃I'd better take a leak。〃
He went back inside to join the line for the toilets； leaving Jude at the door； watching the
