Read Online Marshlands by Matthew Olshan - Free Book Online Page A

glad of a few more minutes behind a closed door.
    He found her asleep on the couch in the living room, a half-empty bottle of wine nearby on the coffee table. She was snoring; her parted lips revealed purplish teeth. He tried to help her to bed, but she rolled away from him, so he gave up and covered her with a sofa blanket. Then he sat by her on the floor, from time to time brushing the hair from her sleeping eyes.
    His legs fell asleep, and still he didn’t move. He found himself humming an old song.
    â€œThat’s pretty,” she said.
    â€œGo back to sleep,” he whispered.
    â€œIt sounds like a marsh tune,” she said, reaching for his hand. She nuzzled it, tucking it under her cheek like a pillow.
    He shifted his arm, trying to make it comfortable for her.
    â€œHere,” she said, “come up here with me.”
    She tried to make space for him, but the couch was narrow. He wound up more or less on top of her, his arms straining to support his weight.
    â€œYou can lie on me,” she said, “I won’t break.”
    He laid his head on her breast. She wrapped her arms around him.
    He felt whole, or nearly whole.
    â€œAre your parents still alive?” she asked.
    â€œMaybe,” he said. “But I don’t think so.”
    â€œDo you miss them?”
    â€œYes,” he said.
    â€œI miss mine, too.” She pulled his face to hers and kissed him. She shifted under him, freeing him with busy hands, then pulled her own clothes aside.
    He felt for a time that he was drifting on a lake, the sunlight warm on his shoulders. He didn’t want to hasten it, but his body moved anyway.
    She strained against him, clasping with her thighs.
    Afterward, they fell asleep.
    She woke him a few hours later and led him to her bed. It was dark. His leggings had come unwrapped. He was embarrassed to be half naked in front of her.
    She brought him a glass of water, which he drank in great gulps. She laughed and told him to save some for her.
    They climbed under the sheets. He thought he might be dreaming, but her earthy smell was real enough.
    Somehow she managed to guide him inside of her again. They moved together for a while, but it didn’t build to anything. She kept stroking his face and asking about his childhood. He told her everything she wanted to know. He wasn’t capable of holding back.
    She listened, craning her neck to kiss him from time to time.
    Then they were quiet together, but he couldn’t sleep.
    â€œNow it’s your turn,” he said.
    She turned on the bedside light and held up her hand for his inspection. He traced an old scar in the meat of her palm. “Don’t you recognize your own work?” she asked.
    â€œAh,” he said, “you were my patient.”
    â€œI was just a girl,” she said.
    â€œWas I nice to you?”
    â€œVery,” she said.
    â€œThat’s good. What else?”
    â€œYou knew my father.” She said a name he didn’t recognize. “That was his given name,” she said, “but you knew him as the Magheed.”
    It was a name from a different life. It pierced him. “That’s impossible,” he said. “You can’t be that Thali.”
    â€œCan’t I?”
    â€œI saw your business card.”
    â€œI took my mother’s maiden name when I came to this country.”
    He shook his head. “Your father was the Magheed?”
    â€œYes,” she said.
    â€œYou’re that Thali?”
    â€œYes.”
    He was silent for a while. Her hand found his under the sheet.
    â€œI should have been with him at the end,” he said. “I could have protected him. At least I could have tried. But by the time I got back to the village, it was too late.”
    â€œThey did him like a thief,” she said, “but he wasn’t.”
    â€œNo, he wasn’t.”
    He pulled his hand away. “I was a fool back then. I did things your father would have