– I can’t concentrate with you staring at my head like it’s a sculpture.

That made her giggle.

– Do you want to go for a walk? she asked.

Head whispered no. Mouth said yes.

On way out she told me her name was Astrid & I told her mine & I wondered if I should’ve given a fake name but it was too late for that now.

Luxembourg Gardens. Cold & windy & naked trees, frightening against the white sky. She kicked piles of leaves so they flew around us in the wind, an act of childlike joy she made seem violent. She asked me how tall I was. I shrugged this off w/ a sneer- every now & again someone asks me this asinine question & is flabbergasted that I don’t know. Why should I know? What for? Knowledge of your own height serves no useful purpose in our society other than to be able to answer that question.

I asked her personal questions, she was evasive & her eyes on me felt like cold rain. Where was she from? Her family was always moving she said- Spain Italy Germany Bucharest the Maldives. But where was she born? She was born on the road, she said, eyes half closed. Her family treated her badly & she doesn’t want to return to them, not even in her thoughts. The future is an unbearable topic also. Where will she go? What will she do? She shook her head as if to say these are the wrong questions.

Then in an excited voice she started boring me with lengthy historical discourses HONESTLY what do I care if Louis XVI cut himself shaving the morning before he was guillotined? DO I REALLY WANT TO KNOW that an eyewitness at the stake where Joan of Arc was burned heard her speaking to God through the flames saying You can be pleased! I didn’t renounce you! & God saying back Stupid woman! What do I care what these people think? In the end while I like reading about history, something inside me rebels at being told it as if I were a slow-witted schoolboy who can’t be trusted to open a book.

As if sensing my boredom she suddenly went silent & her eyes fell to the ground & I thought there’s something about her that’s way too adhesive. Occurred to me if I didn’t get away that very second I’d be prying her off later with a bottle of mentholated spirits & a naked flame but she invited herself back to my place & I accepted.

She came in & stood in the center of the room in a way that made me think of cows & horses who sleep standing up. We made love in the bedroom in the dark, only sometimes the moonlight hit her face & I’d see her eyes were not just closed but squeezed tight.

Afterwards I watched her delight in tearing the plastic off a fresh packet of cigarettes as if picking daisies. She seemed to be relaxed now & as she smoked she talked passionately about everything her eyes fell on: ceilings & windows & curtains & faded wallpaper as if she’d been contemplating these objects for centuries & I was impressed by her knowledge & insights & asked if her intensity was European in character.

– No, it’s just me she said smiling.

Then she asked me if I loved her. I have waited a long time to say it honestly to Caroline, so I said no. I wanted to say more, to hurt her so she’d never come back, so I said Maybe you should leave now before your angular face cuts something.

She exploded, tearing me apart, critiquing everything about me. The subtext was clearly You don’t love me, tho in my defense should a person even need a defense for not loving someone, I had only known her two days.

She stormed out & I wondered what she wanted with my hollow life. Did she want to fill it & by filling it empty herself?

A Few Nights Later

This is how it works: She turns up uninvited & stands in front of me like those dozing cows & sometimes we make dinner & sometimes we eat it & sometimes we make love & sometimes she cries during it & I really hate that.

Often she takes my arm even as we walk around the apartment and as she speaks I keep losing track. Her English is fluent but often I have no idea what she means as if she’s expressing an abridgment of her own thoughts. Sometimes she tells stories laughing & while she does have a genuinely sweet laugh I can never work out for the life of me what’s so funny. She laughs at what I say too but at such odd moments, for all I know she might well be laughing at the word “the.” Her laugh is so enormous and sustaining I’m afraid I’ll be sucked into her mouth & wind up on the wrong side of the universe.

amp; she believes in God! I never imagined I would be with someone who believes- out of boredom I start a little argument about him, lazily throwing out the old chestnut If there’s a God why is there so much misery & evil in the world, & she bores me right back w/ God’s facetious smarty-pants answer to Job: Where were you when I created the heavens & the earth? THAT’S AN ANSWER?

I think her love for me has nothing to do with me except proximity- wrong place, wrong time. She loves me as a starving man loves whatever slop you put in front of him- not a compliment to the cooking but a testament to his hunger. I’m the slop in this analogy.

I want to be in love w/ her but not. I mean she’s v. beautiful especially when exclaims surprise or shock which is why I’m constantly jumping out at her but I can’t bring myself to love her. I don’t know why. Maybe because she’s the first nonrelated/nonmedical person to see me naked and vulnerable or maybe because she often seems so genuinely pleased simply to be with me- something inside me irritated at the idea that I have the capacity to make someone else happy just by existing when my existence has never done anything for me.

Yesterday she told me to call her Pauline.

– I fake a new name depending on what country I’m in, she said.

– So what are you telling me, Astrid isn’t your real name?

– It’s real if you call me & I answer to it.

– What’s your name?

– Pauline.

– No, that’s your French name. What’s your original name?

– There are no original names. They’ve all been used before.

I gritted my teeth & thought what am I doing with this nutcase? She talks too much & her crying frustrates then bores me & every day I grow more & more convinced she’s spent some time in a mental hospital & if not she should really think about it.

Blahblahblah

Tried closing myself off to her but it doesn’t do any good. Astrid or Pauline or whatever her name is has sneakily gone about understanding me by finding passages I’ve underlined in books. The other day she found this one in Lermontov: “I was gloomy- other children were merry and talkative. I felt myself superior to them- but was considered inferior: I became envious. I was ready to love the whole world- none understood me: and I learned to hate.” This one struck her especially as it was underlined circled highlighted & annotated with the words My childhood! Must be more careful in leaving soul-glimpses lying around like that.

Going to have to end this thing tho don’t know how when it’s my indifference that’s probably made her fall deeper in love with me- if I wanted to stay she’d probably throw me out on my ear but since she can tell I want to leave she doesn’t. She knows pleasure of pushing someone out the door is weakened considerably when w/ slightest nudge they break into a run.

An Ugly Day

Eddie’s back. Standing on Rue de Rivoli wondering if I stole just one hot roasted chestnut would the vendor bother chasing me for it when I had the weird sensation that I was being talked to in a language not of words but of energy and vibrations. Turned to see his wry Asian face peering at me- we stared at each other, neither moving. After looonng time he waved meekly & came through crowd to shake hand resting in my pocket. He had to pull it out. We chatted amiably & I was surprised to find how pleased I was to see a familiar face. Familiarity is important in a face. Don’t like Eddie’s face tho it’s clean & sparkling like a bathroom tile in a ritzy hotel. Don’t know how we found each other again- when I say goodbye to someone I expect it to stick. We walked in cold air & wintry light & Eddie told me he’s working down by the docks & asked me if I have a job & what have I been doing without one? I told him I’d found a woman because that’s the only external thing that has happened to me- some internal things have happened but they’re not his business & besides they’re incommunicable.