Come Not When I Am Dead Read Online Free PDF Page A

both laughing again.   “Can the next man be more suitable
please?   Handsome would be nice,
well not really handsome, interesting?”
“No” and then he is showing me his new trousers and I am admiring them.   
    We are now heading in to serious to
strangers mode as we try to make as little noise as we can, we tread the
floorboards to the kitchen where the man is, treading on the very outer edges
of the floor and creep in, trying not to bump into each other, trying to be
quiet.   And in the kitchen the man
is standing trying to pick the kettle up off the stove, trying to make himself
that drink “it’s stuck there”   I
say, and I tell him how my uncle super glued it there years ago to trick my grandma
and no one ever unstuck it and Joseph and I laugh again, laugh too much and
Martin raises his eyes away from his horrible shoes and sinks his hands in to
his pockets, uncomfortable, our closeness is creating a distance for him, he
steps away from the stove and mumbles “ah,” poor creature in the hyena’s pen.  
“We have to go, it’s later than I thought” Joseph looks up at the clock, he is
a whirlwind tossing a leaf about in his wildness, he is a fly batting off the
walls, bzz, bzz, bzz “see you later dear little creature” and he kisses me and
I laugh again.   He leaves and
blossom falls from apple trees.   And
now I’m alone again and feel vulnerable again, not vulnerable, fragile, but not
weak either, I feel tough, I don’t know.   It is silent again and I say “pah” just to hear my own voice.
    Later on Charlie came and that was
all very nice, but unsatisfactory.   We talked about my latest painting, and went for a walk around the
orchard, arm in arm, made love and I got over excited as usual by his presence
and sad when he went, I want more than all of this.   There is a big unbalance there but I am
trying hard to make it perfect, it’s not what I want, having a relationship
with a married man.   I can’t have
all of him, every single, devoted bit of him.   But I do love him I tell myself.   Or I just want to love him.   And I’ve never felt guilty either.   It just happened.   I don’t ever think of his wife, unless
she makes demands on his time and it gets in the way of my life.   And then I spit out my fury.   I don’t like his wife.   And then thinking about how revolting she
is makes me wonder why Charlie ever married her and I doubt his intelligence
and question other aspects of his character and it’s not alright really.   But I don’t ever feel guilty.
    After Charlie had gone I still felt I
hadn’t done enough today, and so, in the dark, in the quiet of the night with
just the waves frooshing about down below, I ran up and down from the gate to
the edge of the cliff about 600 times until I was breathless, the kittens all
watching me from the back door, bats dancing around above my head.   Stars highlighting the tips of the grass
beneath my feet and a fine cool damp in the air.   And that did the trick.   It has been an unsatisfactory day.   Tomorrow will be more exciting.
    I go to bed and
think about Charlie, I think of how he has my devotion and my utter cherished
love and I would love to feel that back from him, I would take it, precious
thing, upstairs now and put it safe in my treasure box, and maybe just peek at
it a couple of times in the night, just to make sure.   And I think that if I hope for it, it
will happen.   I fall asleep and one
after another, all my nightmares follow each other, it is always the same.

Chapter 3

 
    Uncle George came today to see the
studio roof.   I call him uncle
George because I’ve known him all my life, but he’s no relation.   I took him down the track to the studio,
the ground is bumpy, I can feel every bump and lump and stick and stone beneath
my sandals and I’m striding and swinging my arms in time to the tune in my head
‘up down, high low, anywhere the wind blows…’ the trees shaded us and we were