Chapter 7

But she didn't understand. She said, "You don't want to go where half the men in Albuquerque have been – not so soon, anyway."

"That's not why, Al. Oh, I admit that the thought of being number 55 or whatever isn't attractive. But I'm thinking of you, Al. Remember, I said I'd show you what love is? That's what I'm doing. I'm letting you choose the time, and letting you get over all those men – and what they did to you."

"All they did was sleep with me, Alan," she said, except she didn't use that verb.

"Language, Al." It was time to start that lesson. "And they did more than that. They couldn't have done ... what you said ... if they hadn't done something worse. They treated you like meat, like something besides a person. They dehumanized you, Al, and that is what you need to deal with."

"I don't even know what that word means."

I realized I was liable to find out all sorts of things that her life had kept her from learning. "It means that they treated you as though you weren't a human being. They treated you like, like..."

"Like I'd treat a toy?" The word was something else, though.

"I wish you'd chosen a better analogy, Al, but yes – pretty much like that."

She looked down at the sandwich lying half-eaten on her saucer. "I've got some stuff like that ... I left it back on Central."

"Good."

"It was the only way I could ever ... satisfy myself. All men have been to me is pain and dirtiness and using me." She looked at me with pain in her face. "I may not be able to give you what you want."

"What I want, Al, is whatever is best for you. I won't deny I'm a man and you're attractive, and because I love you I feel that attraction very strongly. But if helping you means we never have a sex life, then that's how it will be." I took her hand and held it. "And we'll take it as slow as we need to. I can't undo what other men have done. But I promise you, Alison – I will be as good a husband to you as I can be."

That afternoon I took her for a walk. I showed her around the apartment complex, and introduced her to the manager. I'd have to put Al on the lease, of course, and the manager made a note to make the change and have it ready for our signatures in a couple of days. I showed her around the neighborhood – the Blake's down at Carlisle, the St. Joseph's Northeast Heights Hospital across the street, the Jewel Osco down on Montgomery in Ross Plaza. It was life like she hadn't known since she was a child, and she showed disproportionate, childlike joy at seeing people who weren't either selling something shady, or buying it.

By the time we got back to the apartment I had my arm around her shoulders, and hers was around my waist. I was somewhat wary of such physical displays of affection, for I knew that she'd used them cynically in her trade. But as far as I could tell her arm around me was genuine – she might not love me, or know whether she loved me, but I'd learned during our walk that the affection she'd had for me when she was 13 and 14 was still there. It might be a one-sided love, in this marriage, but it wasn't uncaring on the other side. I would settle for Al loving me as a friend, rather than give her up again.

I had to go to work in the morning, bright and early, for I was foreman of a construction crew building some houses on the West Mesa, where Albuquerque was beginning to expand. I could see the day when the North Valley and the Mesa would be as thickly settled as the South Valley and the Northeast Heights. I was getting more and more work over there.

Having to get up, I made my "bed" early and left Al sitting there watching TV while I got a shower. I had to decide something. Normally after my shower I'd pad around the place in very little, and ordinarily a husband could do likewise with his wife. But I wasn't sure that would be right – not with Al in her present condition. I decided to put on a t-shirt and a pair of sweat pants. When I came out of the bathroom and saw how she looked at me I was glad I'd made that decision. The look on her face was one of relief. Whether it was relief at not having sex, that hateful or at best dutiful thing, in her face, or relief at seeing that I was indeed keeping my word, I didn't know. Perhaps it was both. But knowing that such a simple thing as getting dressed, however casually, could be such a good thing for her was a tremendous boost to my ego. And I needed it. I'd told the truth when I'd told Al that I would forego sex forever if that would be to her benefit, but I'd be lying now if I said I didn't want to sleep with her. She was my wife, and I loved her, and she was very pretty besides, and I wanted her badly. I needed to know that restraining myself was the right choice to help me maintain my resolve, for I was sure that if I approached her, she'd yield.

But I knew that her yielding wouldn't be that of a loving wife. It wouldn't, I hoped, be the mechanical response of a prostitute to a customer. But it would be out of duty, and perhaps affection, but nothing more. And I wasn't ready to do that to Al.

So we sat together for a while, and then I sent her off to bed. She turned at the door to the bedroom and came back to me where I sat on the sofa. She bent down and took my face between her hands, and looked into my eyes. And whispering she said, "Thank you, Alan – for everything." And she kissed me, and went on into the bedroom and closed the door.

Sometime during the night I woke with a ragged cry in my ears. There was only one place it could have come from. I got up and knocked on the bedroom door, and then opened it and went in. The faint light coming in through the blinds from the parking lot outside showed me Al sitting up in bed, and I could hear her breathing, almost panting. I sat down on the bed and gathered her up. She leaned against me, and began crying. Her hands twisted in the fabric of the t-shirt I still had on.