The House That Jack Built Read Online Free PDF Page B

get on with it, without poking your nose in?' She patted the tip of his nose with the tip of her finger, smiling. She knew she was pretty; she knew she looked good. If only Craig would just forget about K-Plus Drugs and that damned hammer, that damned hammer which had beaten them apart.
        'Craig,' she said, and looked him straight in the eye. 'Craig, I love you.'
        He covered his mouth with his hand.
        'Craig, I love you, and I think it's time you tried to forget what happened and think about me.'
        Still he said nothing. She stroked the fine pattern of hairs on the back of his hand, and said, very softly, 'You have to let this go, Craig. Nobody could have done more. It didn't make you a coward. It didn't make you a fool. It didn't even take away your masculinity. We can still have children. You heard what the doctor said. Nothing's changed, nothing at all. Especially the way I love you.' Slowly, she traced her fingertip down his wrist, down to his elbow, and up to his shoulder. He wasn't looking at her directly, his eyes were fixed for no apparent reason on the electric socket next to the satinwood bureau. He looked infinitely sad, as if he had suffered the greatest disappointment of his life. She ran her fingertip down from his shoulder, and touched his left nipple, so that it knurled slightly. She tugged the few dark hairs around it, and then her fingertip continued its journey down his side, tracing the outline of each lean gym-trained muscle, until it reached his naked hip.
        Now he looked at her. 'No, Effie. This isn't going to work.'
        She didn't answer. Instead, she slipped her hand beneath the comforter, and took hold of his fat, soft penis. She could feel his single testicle touching her knuckles, and nothing had changed, not really. She felt breathless, she wanted to feel it, she wanted to squeeze it, she wanted to reassure him that he still excited her, that he was still a man.
        'For Christ's sake!' he snapped at her, twisting himself away from her. 'Don't you understand English?'
        Effie reached out for him again, but he pushed her off. She sat up straight, feeling embarrassed and frustrated and angry, too.
        'Craig… you have to try sometime.'
        'So you keep telling me. So Dr. Samstag keeps telling me.'
        'I love you, Craig. You can't keep pushing me away.'
        He said nothing, but she had never seen him look at her with such resentment before. His bitterness was so strong that she could almost taste it, like a mouthful of pennies with a squeeze of lime.
        He climbed out of bed, keeping his back to her, and picked up the oversized terry robe that was hanging over the back of the chair. She watched him wrap himself up in it, but she made no attempt to cover herself.
        'I need some more time, that's all,' Craig told her.
        'Dr. Samstag said the longer you put it off, the more difficult it was going to get.'
        'Dr. Samstag wasn't hit in the balls with a goddamned hammer.'
        'Craig... you have to make an effort to recover. You can't go on feeling sorry for yourself for ever. You're still virile, you're still a man. I still love you just as much as I always did. But I can't help you unless you try to start helping yourself.'
        He thought about that, but he didn't reply. Instead, he said, 'What do you want to do today?'
        'I don't know. Anything you like. Maybe we could go to the Boscobel Restoration and look at the furniture.'
        'You'd better get yourself dressed, then.'
        She stood up and faced him. She wanted to say something angry, but she knew that it would only make matters worse. What was worse than feeling frustrated was not knowing whether he still loved her or not. She couldn't live without love, and without approval, and she was beginning to feel that she might have to go somewhere else to get them.
        She could have shaken him. She could have dug her nails