Part 45 (2/2)

'Hurry up, it will be light soon,' she said, 'and then you'll see how ugly I am.'

'I can see you now,' I said, 'and I think you're lovely.'

'You're going to have to work hard to convince me,' said Susie the bear.

For some years now I have been convincing Susie the bear that she is lovely. I I think so, of course, and in a few more years, I think, Susie will finally agree. Bears are stubborn but they are sane creatures; once you gain their trust, they will not shy away from you. think so, of course, and in a few more years, I think, Susie will finally agree. Bears are stubborn but they are sane creatures; once you gain their trust, they will not shy away from you.

At first Susie was so obsessed with her ugliness that she took every conceivable precaution against a possible pregnancy, believing that the worst thing on earth for her to do would be to bring a poor child into this cruel world and allow him or her to suffer the treatment that is usually bestowed upon the ugly. When I first started sleeping with Susie the bear, she was taking the Pill, and she also wore a diaphragm; she put so much spermicidal jelly on the diaphragm that I had to suppress the feeling that we were engaging in an act of overkill - to sperm. To ease me over this peculiar anxiety, Susie insisted that I wear a prophylactic, too.

'That's the trouble with men,' she used to say. 'You got to arm yourself so heavily before you dare do it with them that you sometimes lose sight of the purpose.'

But Susie has calmed down, recently. She seems to feel that one one method of birth control is adequate. And if the accident happens I can't help but hope that she will accept it bravely. Of course, I wouldn't push her to have a baby if she didn't want to; those people who want to make people have babies they don't want to have are ogres. method of birth control is adequate. And if the accident happens I can't help but hope that she will accept it bravely. Of course, I wouldn't push her to have a baby if she didn't want to; those people who want to make people have babies they don't want to have are ogres.

'But even if I weren't too ugly,' Susie protests, 'I'm too old. I mean, after forty you can have all sorts of complications. I might not just have an ugly baby, I might not even have have a baby - I might give birth to a kind of a baby - I might give birth to a kind of banana banana! After forty, it's pretty risky.'

'Nonsense, Susie,' I tell her. 'We'll just get you in shape - a little light work with the weights, a little running. You're young at heart, Susie,' I tell her. 'The bear in you bear in you, Susie, is still a cub cub.'

'Convince me,' she tells me, and I know what that means. That's our euphemism for it - whenever we want each other. She will just say, out of the blue, to me, 'I need to be convinced.'

Or I will say to her, 'Susie, you look in need of a little convincing.'

Or else Susie will just say 'Earl!' to me, and I'll know exactly what she means.

When we got married, that's what she said when she came to her moment to say 'I do.' Susie said, 'Earl!'

'What?' the minister said.

'Earl!' Susie said, nodding.

'She does does,' I told the minister. 'That means she does.'

I suppose that neither Susie nor I will ever, quite, get over Franny, but we have our love for Franny in common, and that's more to have in common than whatever thing it is that's held in common by most couples. And if Susie was once Freud's eyes, I now see for my father, so that Susie and I have the vision of Freud in common, too. 'You got a marriage made in heaven, man,' Junior Jones has told me.

That morning after I'd first made love to Susie the bear I was a little late meeting Father in the ballroom for our weight-lifting session.

He was already lifting hard when I staggered in.

'Four hundred and sixty-four,' I said to him, because this was our traditional greeting. Recalling that old rogue, Schnitzler, Father and I thought it was a very funny way for two men living without women to greet each other.

'Four hundred and sixty-four, my eye!' Father grunted. 'Four hundred and sixty-four - like h.e.l.l! I had to listen to you half the night. Jesus G.o.d, I may be blind, but I can hear hear. By my count you're down to about four hundred and fifty-eight. You haven't got four hundred and sixty-four left in you - not anymore. Who the h.e.l.l is she? I've never imagined such an animal animal!'

But when I told him I'd been with Susie the bear, and that I very much hoped she would stay and live with us, Father was delighted.

'That's what we've been missing!' he cried. 'That's really perfect. I mean, you couldn't ask for a better hotel. I think you've handled the hotel business brilliantly! But we need a bear. Everybody does! And now that you've got the bear, you're home free, John. Now you've finally written the happy ending.'

Not quite, I thought. But, all things considered - given sorrow, given doom, given love - I knew things could be much worse.

So what is missing? Just a child, I think. A child is missing. I wanted a child, and I still want one. Given Egg, and given Lilly, children are all I am missing, now. I still might convince Susie the bear, of course, but Franny and Junior Jones will provide me with my first child. Even Susie is unafraid for that that child. child.

'That child is going to be a beauty,' Susie says. 'With Franny and Junior making it, how can it miss?' child is going to be a beauty,' Susie says. 'With Franny and Junior making it, how can it miss?'

'But how could we we miss?' I ask her. 'As soon as you have it, believe me, it will be beautiful.' miss?' I ask her. 'As soon as you have it, believe me, it will be beautiful.'

'But just think of the color color,' Susie says. 'I mean, with Junior and Franny making it, won't it be an absolutely gorgeous f.u.c.king color?'

But I know, as Junior Jones has told me, that Franny and Junior's baby might be any any color - 'I'll give it a range between coffee and milk,' Junior likes to say. color - 'I'll give it a range between coffee and milk,' Junior likes to say.

'Any color baby is going to be a gorgeous-colored baby, Susie,' I tell her. 'You know that.' But Susie just needs more convincing. color baby is going to be a gorgeous-colored baby, Susie,' I tell her. 'You know that.' But Susie just needs more convincing.

I think that when Susie sees sees Junior and Franny's baby, it will make her want one, too. That's what I hope, anyway - because I am almost forty, and Susie has already crossed that bridge, and if we're going to have a baby, we shouldn't wait much longer. I think that Franny's baby will do the trick; even Father agrees - even Frank. Junior and Franny's baby, it will make her want one, too. That's what I hope, anyway - because I am almost forty, and Susie has already crossed that bridge, and if we're going to have a baby, we shouldn't wait much longer. I think that Franny's baby will do the trick; even Father agrees - even Frank.

And isn't it just like Franny to be so generous as to offer to have a baby for me me? I mean, from that day in Vienna when she promised us all that she was going to take care of us, that she was going to be our mother, from that day forth, Franny has stuck to her guns, Franny has come through - the hero in her has kept pumping, the hero in Franny could lift a ballroom full of barbells.

It was just last winter, after the big snow, when Franny called me to say that she was going to have a baby - just for me. Franny was forty at the time; she said that having a baby was closing the door to a room she wouldn't be coming back to. It was so early in the morning when the phone rang that both Susie and I thought it was the rape crisis center hot-line phone, and Susie jumped out of bed thinking she had another rape crisis on her hands, but it was just the regular telephone that was ringing, and it was Franny - all the way out on the West Coast. She and Junior were staying up late and having a party of two together; they hadn't gone to bed, yet, they said - they pointed out that it was still night in California. They sounded a little drunk, and silly, and Susie was cross with them; she told them that no one but a rape victim ever called us that early in the morning and then she handed the phone to me.

I had to give Franny the usual report on how the rape crisis center was doing. Franny has donated quite a bit of money to the center, and Junior has helped us get good legal advice in our Maine area. Just last year Susie's rape crisis center gave medical, psychological, and legal counsel to ninety-one victims of rape - or of rape-related abuse. 'Not bad, for Maine,' as Franny says.

'In New York and L.A., man,' says Junior Jones, 'there's about ninety-one thousand victims a year. Of everything everything,' he adds.

It wasn't hard to convince Susie that all those rooms in the Hotel New Hamps.h.i.+re could be used for something. We're a more than adequate facility for a rape crisis center, and Susie has trained several of the women from the college in Brunswick, so we always have a woman here to answer the hot-line phone. Susie has instructed me never to answer the hot-line phone. 'The last thing a rape victim wants to hear, when she calls for help,' Susie has told me, 'is a f.u.c.king man's man's voice.' voice.'

Of course it's been a little complicated with Father, who can't see see which phone is ringing. So Father, when he's caught off guard by a ringing phone, has developed this habit of yelling, 'Telephone!' Even if he's standing right next to it. which phone is ringing. So Father, when he's caught off guard by a ringing phone, has developed this habit of yelling, 'Telephone!' Even if he's standing right next to it.

Surprisingly, although Father still thinks that the Hotel New Hamps.h.i.+re is a hotel, he is not bad at rape counseling. I mean, he knows that rape crisis is Susie's business - he just doesn't know that it's our only only business, and sometimes he starts a conversation with a rape victim who's recovering herself with us at the Hotel New Hamps.h.i.+re, for a few days, and Father gets her confused with what he thinks is one of the 'guests.' business, and sometimes he starts a conversation with a rape victim who's recovering herself with us at the Hotel New Hamps.h.i.+re, for a few days, and Father gets her confused with what he thinks is one of the 'guests.'

He might happen upon the victim, just composing herself down on one of the docks, and my father will tap-tap-tap his Louisville Slugger out onto the dock, and Four will wag his tail to let my father know that someone is there, and Father will start chatting. 'h.e.l.lo, who's here?' he'll ask.

And maybe the rape victim will say, 'It's just me, Sylvia.'

'Oh yes, Sylvia!' Father will say, as if he's known her all his life. 'Well, how do you like the hotel, Sylvia?' And poor Sylvia will think that this is my father's very polite and indirect way of referring to the rape crisis center - 'the hotel' - and she'll just go along with it.

'Oh, it's meant a lot to me,' she'll say. 'I mean, I really needed to talk, but I didn't want to feel I had to talk about anything until I was ready, and what's nice here is that n.o.body pressures you, n.o.body tells you what you ought ought to feel or ought to do, but they help you get to those feelings more easily than you might get to them all by yourself. If you know what I mean,' Sylvia will say. to feel or ought to do, but they help you get to those feelings more easily than you might get to them all by yourself. If you know what I mean,' Sylvia will say.

And Father will say, 'Of course I know what you mean, dear. We've been in the business for years, and that's just what a good hotel does: it simply provides you with the s.p.a.ce, and with the atmosphere, for what it is you need need. A good hotel turns s.p.a.ce and atmosphere into something generous, into something sympathetic - a good hotel makes those gestures that are like touching you, or saying a kind word to you, just when (and only only when) you need it. A good hotel is always there,' my father will say, the baseball bat conducting both his lyrics and his song, 'but it doesn't ever give you the feeling that it's breathing down your neck.' when) you need it. A good hotel is always there,' my father will say, the baseball bat conducting both his lyrics and his song, 'but it doesn't ever give you the feeling that it's breathing down your neck.'

'Yeah, that's it, I guess,' Sylvia will say; or Betsy, or Patricia, Columbine, Sally, Alice, Constance, or Hope will say. 'It gets it all out out of me, somehow, but not by force,' they'll say. of me, somehow, but not by force,' they'll say.

'No, never by force, my dear,' Father will agree. 'A good hotel forces nothing. I like to call it just a sympathy sympathy s.p.a.ce,' Father will say, never acknowledging his debt to Schraubenschlussel and his sympathy bomb. s.p.a.ce,' Father will say, never acknowledging his debt to Schraubenschlussel and his sympathy bomb.

'And,' Sylvia will say, 'everyone's nice here.'

'Yes, that's what I like about a good hotel!' Father will say, excitedly. 'Everyone is is nice. In a nice. In a great great hotel,' he'll tell Sylvia, or anybody who'll listen to him, 'you have a right to hotel,' he'll tell Sylvia, or anybody who'll listen to him, 'you have a right to expect expect that niceness. You come to us, my dear - and please forgive me for saying so - like someone who's been maimed, and we're your doctors and your nurses.' that niceness. You come to us, my dear - and please forgive me for saying so - like someone who's been maimed, and we're your doctors and your nurses.'

'Yes, that's right,' Sylvia will say.

'If you come to a great hotel in parts parts, in broken pieces,' my father will go on and on, 'when you leave the great hotel, you'll leave it whole whole again. We simply put you back together again, but this is almost mystically accomplished - his is the sympathy s.p.a.ce I'm talking about - because you can't again. We simply put you back together again, but this is almost mystically accomplished - his is the sympathy s.p.a.ce I'm talking about - because you can't force force anyone back together again; they have to grow their own way. We provide s.p.a.ce,' Father will say, the baseball bat blessing the rape victim like a magic wand. 'The s.p.a.ce and the anyone back together again; they have to grow their own way. We provide s.p.a.ce,' Father will say, the baseball bat blessing the rape victim like a magic wand. 'The s.p.a.ce and the light light,' my father will say, as if he were a holy man blessing some other holy person.

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