Read Online Your Face Tomorrow: Poison, Shadow, and Farewell by Javier Marías, Margaret Jull Costa - Free Book Online
Authors: Javier Marías, Margaret Jull Costa
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perfect host because in London I wasn't in the habit of being one, almost everyone who came to see me, and they were very few, came to do just that, to be only briefly occupied with me. I also offered her a black coffee, perhaps a glass of milk, or a white coffee if she preferred something warm and comforting, and she replied that she'd like wine as long as it was white and chilled. I remembered that I had six unopened bottles of Sangre y Trabajadero sent to me by a kind, long-standing friend from Cadiz, but I couldn't be bothered to set about opening a crate at that hour.
'Here you are. It's cold enough for me, but it may not be for you,' I said, placing before her knees, on two coasters (I'm a clean fellow) the bottle of Rulander that I opened there and then (I don't know much about wine) and a not entirely suitable glass, which she allowed me to fill almost to the brim. 'If she's drinking because she's thirsty, she'll be drunk in no time,' I thought when she didn't raise her hand to stop me. The run in her stockings kept growing each time she made a movement, however slight or delicate, or when she crossed her legs, and she crossed and uncrossed them often, with the consequent upward movement of her skirt, this was only minimal with each crossing and uncrossing, but her skirt was gradually creeping up (until she tugged it down again). She still hadn't noticed the damage being wrought, when perhaps she should have. Given the nature of runs, it didn't look out of place on her leg, although it did seem destined to reduce her tights to tatters if our conversation lasted long enough, and she had, it seemed, completely forgotten that, in her words, 'it'll only take a moment,' and, in part, forgotten about me too. I realized that, after the initial surprise and my sense that the visit would only be a brief one, I was in fact enjoying her prolonged presence there, especially with the dog at her feet, for dogs, when they are still, do make one feel calmer, even comfortable. The creature, which had apparently dried off considerably, was still dozing with one eye open, lying close to his mistress. ('Sleep with one eye open, when you slumber,' I sometimes sing or repeat to myself.) He seemed kindly and ingenuous and honest, the very opposite of a joker or a trickster.
'Aren't you having anything?' Pérez Nuix asked. 'Don't tell me you're not going to join me. It's embarrassing drinking alone.' And she immediately overcame any embarrassment by emptying the glass as if she were Lord Rymer the Flask in one of his greedier moments. She was probably thirsty, which was perfectly normal after that walk in the rain, what was odd was that she hadn't asked me for a drink earlier. I refilled her glass, not quite to the top this time.
'Later, in a few minutes,' I replied. 'Go on.' And so that this did not sound like an order, I leaned down and again stroked the dog's head and back, felt his thin bones. This time he didn't even lift his neck, he must have got used to my presence and simply took no notice of me, he was very dignified that pointer. Everyone thinks it makes you look like a nicer person if you behave affectionately towards animals, and that was the effect I wanted then. (If there's one thing I can't stand it's writers, and there are hundreds of them, who have themselves photographed with their dogs or cats in order to project a more amiable image when, in fact, they just come across as affected and twee.) I took advantage of my friendly bowed position to take a long look at Pérez Nuix's thighs from close up, I will not deny that they continued to attract me. I suppose she pretended not to notice, she certainly didn't cover them up or move them a fraction of an inch. At that point, I did feel as puerile as De la Garza, but then the sexual admiration that precedes sex is always puerile, and there's nothing to be done about it.
'I don't know what happened to those measures, they may have gone ahead, but under cover and with much less
'Here you are. It's cold enough for me, but it may not be for you,' I said, placing before her knees, on two coasters (I'm a clean fellow) the bottle of Rulander that I opened there and then (I don't know much about wine) and a not entirely suitable glass, which she allowed me to fill almost to the brim. 'If she's drinking because she's thirsty, she'll be drunk in no time,' I thought when she didn't raise her hand to stop me. The run in her stockings kept growing each time she made a movement, however slight or delicate, or when she crossed her legs, and she crossed and uncrossed them often, with the consequent upward movement of her skirt, this was only minimal with each crossing and uncrossing, but her skirt was gradually creeping up (until she tugged it down again). She still hadn't noticed the damage being wrought, when perhaps she should have. Given the nature of runs, it didn't look out of place on her leg, although it did seem destined to reduce her tights to tatters if our conversation lasted long enough, and she had, it seemed, completely forgotten that, in her words, 'it'll only take a moment,' and, in part, forgotten about me too. I realized that, after the initial surprise and my sense that the visit would only be a brief one, I was in fact enjoying her prolonged presence there, especially with the dog at her feet, for dogs, when they are still, do make one feel calmer, even comfortable. The creature, which had apparently dried off considerably, was still dozing with one eye open, lying close to his mistress. ('Sleep with one eye open, when you slumber,' I sometimes sing or repeat to myself.) He seemed kindly and ingenuous and honest, the very opposite of a joker or a trickster.
'Aren't you having anything?' Pérez Nuix asked. 'Don't tell me you're not going to join me. It's embarrassing drinking alone.' And she immediately overcame any embarrassment by emptying the glass as if she were Lord Rymer the Flask in one of his greedier moments. She was probably thirsty, which was perfectly normal after that walk in the rain, what was odd was that she hadn't asked me for a drink earlier. I refilled her glass, not quite to the top this time.
'Later, in a few minutes,' I replied. 'Go on.' And so that this did not sound like an order, I leaned down and again stroked the dog's head and back, felt his thin bones. This time he didn't even lift his neck, he must have got used to my presence and simply took no notice of me, he was very dignified that pointer. Everyone thinks it makes you look like a nicer person if you behave affectionately towards animals, and that was the effect I wanted then. (If there's one thing I can't stand it's writers, and there are hundreds of them, who have themselves photographed with their dogs or cats in order to project a more amiable image when, in fact, they just come across as affected and twee.) I took advantage of my friendly bowed position to take a long look at Pérez Nuix's thighs from close up, I will not deny that they continued to attract me. I suppose she pretended not to notice, she certainly didn't cover them up or move them a fraction of an inch. At that point, I did feel as puerile as De la Garza, but then the sexual admiration that precedes sex is always puerile, and there's nothing to be done about it.
'I don't know what happened to those measures, they may have gone ahead, but under cover and with much less
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