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The persona of a woman in love is highly deceiving。
Did she feign sentimentality as well as other things？ She cried real tears one night when Timmy Fraser sang 〃My Funny Valentine〃 at the Red Pirate Lounge…stretching out the song in the mournful way that he does for fully ten minutes。 Any woman who fails to recognize the inherent viciousness of Lorenz Hart's 1930s lyrics has a head filled with cornmeal stirabout instead of brains。 She also mentioned once that she had cried for two days over Madame Bovary's suicide。 Fair enough。 Flaubert had earned those tears； but she had no insight into the style of the novel； nor did she analyze how Flaubert had maneuvered her emotionally into weeping over the death of that poor； sick woman。
Knowing this much； and after thinking about it； I realized that I knew very little about her； it was unreasonable of me to expect a wakeful interest from Berenice in Jacques Debierue。 Berenice was a funny valentine； that is what she was； and her chin was a little weak； too。 In a vague abstract way I loved her。 At the same time； I wondered what to do with her。 She had been a sounding board to diminish some of the excitement inside me； but now it was two AM。 and I was going to be busy today。 Busy； busy。 Perhaps if I used her right； she would be an asset。 Wouldn't it help to have a beautiful woman in tow when I called on Debierue？ He would hardly slam the door in the face of a strikingly attractive woman。 A Frenchman？ Never 。 。 。
The bubble of spit ballooned suddenly as she exhaled； and inaudibly popped。 Berenice whimpered in her sleep and tried； wriggling； to find a more fortable position in her chair。 This was impossible。 With her long legs cramped up under her rear and in a tight…fitting canvas officer's chaiz it was miraculous that she could fall asleep in the first place。
I stopped rationalizing； recognizing what I was doing… rationalizing…and prodded Berenice's soft but rather flat belly with a stiff forefinger。
〃Wake up； Audience；〃 I said； not unkindly。
〃I wasn't asleep；〃 she lied。 〃I just closed my eyes for a second to rest them。〃
〃I know。 I forgot to ask； but where have you been the last couple of days？〃
〃Here。〃 Her eyes widened。 〃Right here。〃
〃Not today you weren't。〃
〃Oh； you mean today？〃
〃Yes。 Today。〃
〃I was at Gloria's apartment。 Honestly； I got so blue just sitting around here all alone waiting for you to e back that I called her。 She drove over for me and took me in。〃
〃I thought as much。 Gloria tried to pump me on the phone when！ got back。 I thought something was odd about her phony laughter； but couldn't figure it out。 If you didn't intend to go back to Duluth； why did you take your bags and leave that weird note for me？〃
〃I tried to go； I really did； but I just couldn't！〃 Her eyes moistened。 〃I want to stay with you； James。 。 。 don't you want me to？〃
I had to forestall her tears。 Why can't women learn how to say 〃Good…bye〃 like a man？
〃We'll see； baby； we'll see。 Let's go to bed now。 We'll talk about it in the morning； much later this morning。〃
Berenice rose obediently； crossed her arms； and with a sweeping； graceful movement removed her shorty nightgown。 No longer sleepy； she grinned wickedly and crawled onto the tumbled Murphy bed； shaking her tremendous stern as she did so。 I smiled。 She was amusing when she tried to be coy because she was so big。 I undressed slowly and crawled in beside her。 The air…conditioner； without enough BTUs to cool the apartment adequately； labored away…uh uh； uh uh； uh uh。。。 。 As a rule I could shut the sound out； but now it bothered me。
I was tense； slightly high from drinking four cups of black coffee； and overstimulated by my ability to recall； with so little effort； the details of Debierue's career。 Three； no； four days had passed since the last time； and yet； strangely； I wasn't interested in sex。 To make love now would be to initiate a new beginning to a something I had written 〃ending〃 to…perhaps that was the reason。 That； or my unresolved feelings about Berenice now that I was on the verge of a future…if everything worked out all right…that held no place for a woman who was interested in me as a person。 Any relationship between a man and a woman that is based upon bodies and personalities alone can lead only to disaster。
It was a premonition； or some kind of precognitive instinct for self…preservation； I should have heeded。 But at two in the morning； with my mind still reeling with matters intellectual； I was physically unable to muster enough brute bellicosity to toss Berenice and her suitcase down the stairs。 She was loving； too loving。
The inchoate premonition； or whatever it was； of some disaster； froze my body as well as my mind into a state of flaccid inaction。 Berenice was puzzled； I know。 When none of her usual tricks worked； she climbed over me suddenly； got out of bed； and switched off the floor lamp。 Except for the tiny red light on the electric coffeepot； which was not a red； baleful staring eye； but merely an effective reminder that the coffee was hot if I was not； the room was as dark as my thoughts。 We had never made love in the dark before。 I didn't know about Berenice； but such a peculiar idea had never occurred to me in my lifetime。 It is too impersonal to make love in the dark。 Your partner could be anyone； anyone at all。
How she knew this I don't know； but the gimmick worked。 As Berenice whipped her head back and forth； stinging first my chest and then my stomach with her long hair； my doubts disappeared。 And because this unseen woman became any woman； and was no longer a problem named Berenice Hollis； I became rigid with the pain of need； and mounted her savagely。 Savagely for me； because I am usually methodical in sexual relations； knowing what I like and dislike。 Being flagellated with long hair was a new experience for me as well； and I favored Berenice with the best ride she had ever had。 She climaxed as I entered； then twice； and we made the final one together。 She bit my shoulder so hard to keep from mewing （knowing how irritated I get when she makes animal noises） she left the marks of her teeth in my skin。
Euphoric； my tenseness dissipated； the thought of sending this big； marvelous woman back to Minnesota became intolerable。 She turned on the floorlamp and rummaged around in her suitcase for douching equipment。
〃Hang up that yellow linen suit of yours； baby；〃 I told her； 〃so the wrinkles will shake out。〃
〃Why？〃 she asked； doing as she was told。 〃It isn't wrinkled。〃
〃Because I want you to wear it tomorrow。 I'm taking you with me。〃
〃Where are we going？ Are we going to have fun？〃
〃To call on M。 Debierue。〃 I sighed。 〃I'll try to explain it again tomorrow…in one…syllable words。〃 With the light on； Berenice Hollis was a problem again。
〃We'll have fun； though； won't we？〃
〃Sure；〃 I replied glumly。 〃Fun； fun； fun。〃
I closed my eyes as she went into the bathroom。 I remember dimly being washed with a warm washrag； but I was sound asleep before she finished。
PART TWO
IF ANYTHING EXISTS；
IT IS INPREHENSIBLE
1
The apartment looked terrible； as if a small whirlwind had been turned loose for a few minutes； but Berenice； in her lemon linen suit； with its skimpy microskirt； was beautiful。 At my request she wore stockings； sheer enough to enhance the sienna brown of her deeply tanned legs。 The skirt was so short； when she sat or leaned over； the white metal snaps that held up her stockings were exposed slyly enough to make her as sexy as a Varga drawing。
Instead of a blouse she wore a filmy blue…and…red scarf around her neck。 The two loose ends of the scarf were tucked crosswise beneath the lapels of the square…cut double…breasted jacket。 Very few women would dare to wear such a severely cut suit； but the square straight lines of the jacket exaggerated the roundness of Berenice's lush figure。 With the supplement of a rat she had put up her hair； and the ample mound of tawny hair； sun…tinged with yellow streaks； piled on top of her head； together with her childish features； gave her an angelic expression。
There was； I think