“Please don’t tell me it is only childish imagination, of course it is, it is exactly the imagination of my childhood—it hits me, leaving me altogether paralyzed, it gets my blood pumping crazily for a few seconds, and I can’t fight it. I have to see him, to produce him emerging from the darkness, approaching me; he’s running to me, barreling down to my front door, so I can— Do you like these little private games of mine? What would you have done in my place, anyway? Well, you are much more ...generous than I am. You even agreed to allow me inside you. I’m not that noble—I’m terrified. I just slam the door in his face, night after night, with all my strength and with all my locks, and hurry to the bedroom. And Maya had better be there, just so I can look at her for a moment, acknowledge her again, the presence of her full, warm body, the absolute validity of her surprisingly small feet. To gaze upon them andcalm myself down—to immediately panic again—such a narrow base for two adults and a child to hold on to.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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