65° - 01.07.1968, Blaðsíða 24

vious. And this part needed only to take one step
forward ,to take control of the other part and
say, that’s enough, for he had seen all yesterday’s
quarrels, and tomorrow’s, and knew how point-
less they were. But the awful thing about it was
that he didn’t do it. He just stood there, waiting
— and listening.
“It all went to repay the loan for the stone wall
yesterday,” he said.
“Didn’t we pay that last month?”
“That was for the workmen’s pay.”
“Can’t you get an advance on your salary?”
She spoke about his constant begging errands
to the cashier as if they were berry-picking trips
that he went on for the sake of his health.
“I’ve already taken an advance. Two, three
advances. We live on advances.”
“Do you honestly think we can have a meal of
three courses without offering the guests an
aperitif?”
He shrugged his shoulders.
“I just won’t do it” — her voice was becoming
excited — “I won’t hold this party unless we can
have sherry before dinner.”
“Well, don’t hold it then.”
“I don’t remember you objecting before to a
glass of sherry before the meal.”
“We haven’t any money now.”
“You don’t need to broadcast that fact as if it
were a special piece of news. Aren’t we always
without money?”
“In that case I suppose we agree.”
“You behave like this only because it’s the
sewing club. Ever since we decided to have this
party to show them the house ..
“I really don’t know why you always think I
don’t like the sewing club. Of course we should
let them see the house. As it is, I hardly even buy
a pair of underpants without showing them to
the sewing club. And isn’t it just as they wanted
it? A stone wall, hardwood ceiling, parquet floor,
tiles and ...”
She stared at him.
“You should be ashamed of yourself. I thought
we had both agreed about everything.”
“Yes, of course. Have you ever heard me ob-
ject?”
He could see that she was about to break down.
Her voice shaking, she said it was bad enough
that the garden was as it was, all mud and dirt,
and that there wasn’t even a mirror in the hall,
and now this ...
“I couldn’t really care less about the sherry,”
she said helplessly, “it’s just that everyone ex-
pects it.”
She began to cry. At such moments he pulled
himself together. He went up to her, stretched
out his hand ...
“We’ve done nothing but quarrel ever since we
moved into this house,” she sobbed.
He remained standing beside her without touch-
ing her. He looked at her in silence, not finding
any words that could bridge the gap between
them. He could have said that they couldn’t afford
to have the garden done or to buy a mirror as
matters stood; that building the house had been
too much for them financially. He could have
said he wished with all his heart that they had
never spent money on having stones brought
from the mountains in the eastern fiords for
building up a wall in the sitting-room. But it was
no use. There the wall was, firm as a rock, like
a cruel symbol of his folly — a badly placed pro-
tection against the wind which could never pene-
trate there anyway. But there it stood, and God
only knew why. Was it solely bcause such stone
walls were supposed to be a sign of good taste
in new houses, a sign of wealth? No, there must
be some other reason, there just had to be ...
He was tired, dead tired.
Maybe ...
He touched the bare arm of his wife with his
finger tips.
Maybe he was incapable of finding any other
sort of refuge.
He stroked her arm, lightly and carefully. The
skin was covered with fine, light hairs that tremb-
led to his touch. His fingers played with these
hairs. They liked the contact with her soft, naked
flesh. He wanted to enjoy her, to forget the sad-
ness in his heart, to find his soul, complete and
undivided, through contact with her. But he knew
from experience that this was neither the time
nor the place anymore than now at this moment.
Her white neck, bare shoulders showing above
the black, low-cut dress, the bow of her apron
like a flowered ornament low on her hips wakened
his body to the memory of the morning’s longing.
He stood helpless and a prisoner on the kitchen
floor between his wife and the sherry bottle.
“Aren’t you going to get dressed before the
guests arrive?” she asked.
*
Within an hour all the guests were in the sitting-
room. And the room was a credit to its owners.
22
65 DEGREES