Against God Read Online Free PDF Page B

you’re now in is on the
     poorer side of town that you don’t know all that well, finally you park, you
     both getout of the car, you follow Mélanie into a bar, Le
     Losange, a fairly shabby interior, slot machines at the back, so-so music, a
     dozen seedy-looking customers, for the first time you notice that Mélanie’s
     clothes are a little worse-for-wear themselves, not that that lessens her
     desirability, you find a table, the server comes over, her outfit too sexy for
     her body, she greets Mélanie like an old acquaintance, Mélanie introduces you,
     her name is Guylaine, Guylaine sizes you up quite openly, amused by your suit
     jacket and tie, you order two shooters, Mélanie refuses at first but you insist
     so she accepts, downs her drink in one go without pulling a face, then you order
     two beer, Mélanie still hasn’t said anything, just looks at you often, you ask
     her why she agreed to come with you tonight, and her answer
    - Because you’re suffering.
    rattles you somewhat, you ask if it shows that much, she doesn’t answer but her
     silence speaks volumes, you drain your beer and laugh condescendingly, she
     doesn’t react, you look deep into her eyes, her gentle but sad eyes, and point
     out she doesn’t look like she’s in such great shape herself, she half-smiles,
     her voice barely more than a
    - You see, it’s not that hard to tell . . .
    breath of air and yet you hear her over the background music, but you shake
     your head, as though you don’t like the direction your conversation has taken,
     and you ordertwo more shooters, Guylaine brings two glasses
     but Mélanie doesn’t want to drink anymore, you insist but in vain, so you drink
     them both, you speak then, yes, you’re suffering, you admit it, but you don’t
     feel like talking about it, just like you don’t want to know why Mélanie isn’t
     doing all that well herself, just like you don’t give a crap about anyone else’s
     suffering, because tonight is a night for living it up, because dammit! we’re
     all going to die so we might as well make the most of it, and your companion
     listens in silence, her expression sad, and you’re fed up with her gloominess,
     so you suggest going back to her place, she agrees immediately, Guylaine waves
     coyly as you leave, there’s a cold wind blowing, you make as though to take your
     car but Mélanie says you’ve had too much to drink, anyway she lives just one
     block over, so you start to walk, you say a little stroll in the crisp night air
     will only make you appreciate the warmth of her body all the more, and you
     snicker, surprised at your own audacity, yet I remember when you were single,
     how you were always quite brazen with the ladies, but Mélanie looks serious all
     of a sudden and tells you there’ll be no sex, which throws you for quite a loop,
     you try a bit of provocation, tell her girls who take guys home rarely want to
     play Parcheesi, at least not in your day they didn’t, but she shakes
    - No, not tonight. That’s not what you need. Me either.
    her head, you pout, you mutter oh no, this can’t be happening, youtell her to stop jerking your chain, but she doesn’t back
     down, so you turn on your heel, walk to your car, she cries after you that you
     shouldn’t be driving but you ignore her, she calls out for you to wait a second,
     you turn thinking she’s changed her mind but when you see her digging through
     her purse and scribbling something on a scrap of paper, you begin walking again,
     get into your car, start to close the door but Mélanie is there, holding out a
     piece of paper, it’s her address, she’s usually at home in the evenings, you can
     drop by whenever you want, you take the paper scornfully, stuff it in your coat
     pocket and start up the car without a word, a quick check in the rearview
     mirror, she’s still standing in the street, all alone, turned to watch your car
     as it drives off, you scowl, frustrated, the clock