Nowhere City Read Free

the kitchen out of the sun, Paul could see nothing for a moment. Blinking, he opened cupboards, looking for a vase for the flowers, but could not find one, though he had unpacked the crates himself. Katherine would solve all that soon, but meanwhile—Impatiently he slammed the doors shut, took the mop out of the tin pail by the back door, and crammed the flowers into the pail (forgetting, in his hurry, to add any water).
    Holding his offerings, he went into the bedroom. Here again he could not see at first; he had the blind sensation that comes when one enters a darkened movie theater.
    “Katherine?” His eyes adjusted; she lay looking at him, speechless and sleepless. “Katherine, look what I brought you to eat: a peach off our own tree in the back yard.”
    “No thank you, darling. I’m not hungry.”
    “But look how beautiful it is. Don’t you just want to taste it?”
    Katherine shut her beautiful pale lips more firmly, and shook her head: the face of Persephone, he thought, offered food in hell.
    “Katherine, darling.” Holding the pail, he sat down on the edge of the bed.
    “You picked all those flowers,” Katherine said accusingly; she was by nature a conservationist.
    “No I didn’t; there’s lots more. The yard’s full of them. Besides, what good are they doing out there? I want them in here, where you can see them.” He laid his hand on her lank, silky hair, stroking it down.
    “That was a nice thought,” Katherine said. She turned her head and looked at the pail of flowers, which Paul had put on the bedside table.
    “I’m a nice guy,” he replied, stroking her hair.
    “My head hurts so, so much.”
    “I know.”
    Katherine sighed, and stretched out; Paul continued to smooth down her hair, across her neck and shoulders.
    “Oh, that’s nice. So relaxing ... Mm ... I think I could go to sleep now,” she murmured presently. “I’m very tired. Paul; you know, Paul, I couldn’t sleep at all on the plane.”
    Paul did not feel tired. “Let me put you to sleep,” he said meaningfully. He felt Katherine’s shoulders first stiffen, then go passive under his fingers. “You know I haven’t seen you for six months,” he added. “I mean, six weeks. I guess it feels like six months,” he explained.
    “I know.” Katherine smiled a faintly acquiescent little smile from under her arm. Paul began rapidly taking off his clothes.
    “I love you so much, Katherine,” he apologized.
    “Yes.” Katherine reached up and touched his arm. He put his hand on hers; their eyes met for a second. Then, burning, with one sock still on, he flung himself on top of her.
    “Thank you,” he said after a while, and rolled over. It was darker in the room now. Night falls quickly in Los Angeles, as in the desert which it once was.
    “That’s all right,” Katherine replied in a small voice. “I mean, you’re welcome. Really.” She paused, and went on, “But I’m sick. You know.” There was a silence. Paul did not admit that he knew.
    “It was the altitude,” Katherine continued. “When I decided to take the jet, I didn’t realize that the difference in altitude would be so much greater. I think that’s why I feel it so much, because of course jets fly so much higher than ordinary planes.”
    “That doesn’t make any difference; the cabin is always pressurized,” Paul said.
    “Pressurized?”
    “Mm.” He yawned, sleepy himself now. “Well, see, the air in the cabin of a jet, or any big plane, is maintained at constant pressure after it leaves the ground. Has to be, or you couldn’t breathe at all. The atmosphere is too thin up there.” He yawned again.
    Katherine gave Paul a look which, even in the dim room, he recognized. “You mean that I shouldn’t be having a sinus attack now at all,” she said. “It’s all imaginary.”
    “I didn’t say that. I—” He sighed. Somehow whenever Katherine was sick she always managed to put him in the wrong, to make him feel guilty. It was Paul’s