Crush Read Free Page B

become extra work, the way her appetite would vanish at the thought of seeing the dentist.
    This sensation grew every time she was close to David. At the prospect of calling him, her throat dried, her voice sounded hoarse, her belly ached, she experienced nausea attacks. She cleared her throat before dialing his number, like a singer waiting in the wings to step out on the stage. She’d take in a large draft of air before meeting him, as though readying herself for a scuba diving plunge.
    What she lost in appetite flourished as curiosity. She wanted to know everything about David: his past, his tastes,his habits, his political beliefs. She had always been curious about everything, particularly in relation to men. Their truth, nestled under the cover of propriety, or of an elegant suit, constituted an exciting enigma, a rebus. But desire had slipped in through the stitches of her curiosity, and her interest in David suddenly became an absolute necessity. Why? Were these the raptures of love? Or was it rather that, oppressed by the unseemliness of her desires, and her aroused voluptuousness, she made it her duty to find out all she could about the man who brought her to this pitch of erotic bliss? Damned if she knew!
    David became the object of her assiduous study. His simplest sentences seemed to burst with allusions, shades of meaning. She spent every waking moment analyzing his silences, examining the nature of every intonation, every word, bringing to this scientific inquiry the dazzling ardor of a dilettante, finally aware, late in life, of her true vocation.
    This passionate absorption was such fun that she mistook it at first for a wanton whim. Soon, however, she was forced to admit she had no choice in the matter: the investigation had to be completed. What was his opinion of makeup? Did he perchance dislike the expressions she was in the habit of using?
    “Watch out! Be careful!” she told herself as she questioned her lover with the slyness of a racetrack gambler worming out a tip. She had to stay on her toes, doing her best to avoid any blunders and faux pas. She espoused his opinions to the point of servility: A drafty spot in a restaurant? No problem, she happened to feel hot. A steak for two? The very thing she was dying to share.
    She felt deep within a childish, humiliating, annoying desire to do things right. Yet, despite all her efforts, a kind of uncertainty persisted, hooked to the dark, enigmatic panels of David’s personality, like a whelk fastened to a rock. Did he love her? Did he think of her? What did he think of her?
    An ambiguous word would fill Amélie with anxiety. She felt like a swivel-pin around which whirled unanswerable questions. No sooner did David calm her qualms, allowing her to think of something else, than she felt guilty of infidelity. And she went on worrying, or pretending to do so, as she expressed her amorous fears, as though this agitation proved her devotion.
    Alerted by a scrap of common sense, Amélie tried hard to think: What did she feel for David? What did she expect of him? Physical pleasure? A bit of irresponsible happiness? The love of twin spirits? Because she wanted to appeal to him, without knowing what she thought, or what she expected from him, Amélie gave herself license to carry on with her affair until she might see things clearly. She made of doubt her ally, deciding to brief a case without knowing its nature, or its importance.
    D avid did not indulge in this kind of narcissism. He pulled out all the stops to seduce Amélie. That’s the way he was. She fit his plans perfectly, the reserves of dash and vigor he could devote to her. He sent flowers, wrote poems, and made up all kinds of rituals in order to avoid thinking too much: he brushed his hair nervously, kept on changing his bedsheets, had his car washed before calling on her. Anexceptional situation calls for unexpected behavior. He was in love, a changed man.
    From ordinary strategist he became a