The Human Body Read Free Page B

too bad, while Agnese forced herself to finish it all, just to show him how much braver and more emancipated she was. But the worst moment came later, with the bill. “I’m going to raise hell,” Cederna said, his eyes popping.
    â€œI’ll pay. Just stop making a scene.”
    Cederna shot her down coldly: “I don’t let my woman pay for my dinner.” He threw the credit card at the waitress, who bowed for the umpteenth time as she picked it up.
    â€œWhat a shitty place!” he said when they were finally outside. “You ruined my last night of freedom, thank you very much.”
    Agnese started crying softly, her hand pressed over her eyes. Seeing her like that made Cederna feel ashamed. He tried to hug her; she pushed him away.
    â€œYou’re an animal—that’s what you are.”
    â€œCome on, baby. Don’t be like that.”
    â€œDon’t touch me!” she yelled, hysterical.
    She didn’t hold out for long, though. In the end he nibbled her ear and whispered, “What the hell do they call that stuff—yadori?
Yu
dori?” Finally she laughed a little and admitted: “It was really disgusting. I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’m so sorry.”
    â€œYuuudori! Yuuuuuudori!”
    They started laughing and didn’t stop even in the pouring rain.
    Now they’re both sitting on the floor in the small foyer, sopping wet, and they’re still chuckling, though less enthusiastically. Cederna is beginning to feel that dissociating sense of emptiness and dejection that comes after laughing so hard. And there’s a lump in his throat, because he won’t see her again for many long weeks.
    Agnese collapses on him and rests her head on his legs. “Don’t die over there, okay?”
    â€œI’ll do my best.”
    â€œDon’t get wounded either. Not seriously, at least. No amputations or conspicuous scars.”
    â€œOnly superficial wounds, I promise.”
    â€œAnd don’t cheat on me.”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œIf you cheat on me, I’ll wound you myself.”
    â€œOoh!”
    â€œNever mind ooh. I’m serious.”
    â€œUh-oh!”
    â€œSo will you come back for my graduation?”
    â€œI’ll be back, I told you. René promised me leave. But it means that afterward we won’t see each other for a long time.”
    â€œI’ll be a young unemployed graduate waiting for her husband’s return from the front.”
    â€œI’m not your husband.”
    â€œI’m just saying.”
    â€œWhat was it, some kind of proposal?”
    â€œCould be.”
    â€œThe important thing is that the unemployed young lady not console herself with someone else in the meantime.”
    â€œI’ll be inconsolable.”
    â€œThere, that’s better.”
    â€œInconsolable. I swear.”
    Â â€¢Â â€¢Â â€¢Â 
    I n a larger apartment, with a sliding glass door overlooking a parking lot, Marshal René is awake, looking out at the night. The storm has released the heat from the asphalt and the city smells like rotten eggs.
    When it comes to picking a woman to spend his last night in friendly territory with, the marshal has a wealth of choices, but the truth is he doesn’t feel much like any of them. After all, they’re clients. He’s sure they wouldn’t want to listen to his concerns twelve hours before the flight. When he talks too much, women feel the urge to turn their backs and do something, like light a cigarette or get dressed or take a shower. He can’t blame them. None of them knows what it means to be in command; nobody knows what it takes to hold the fate of twenty-seven men in your hands. None of them is in love with him.
    He takes off his T-shirt and absently runs his fingers over his chest: the line between his pecs, the dog tag with his date of birth and blood type (A-positive), three well-defined abdominal bands. Maybe when he