Lights Out

Why not tell her the truth? Eddie thought of a reason immediately: Jack did business with her, and knowing his brother was an ex-con might give her second thoughts, especially if Jack had spun some cover story about him last night. On the other hand, Jack might have told her the truth. “Didn’t Jack tell you?”

“He was very mysterious.”

“There’s no mystery. I’m looking for work.”

“In what area?”

“The junk-bond revival.”

Karen laughed. Jack had already prepared her for the fact that Eddie was a bit of a character.

“It’s tough out there, I know,” Karen said. “Any leads?”

“Plenty. I’ve got friends in low places.”

Karen laughed again and the towel slipped some more. Eddie didn’t think there was anything to it: this was just big-city sophistication.

“But at least you’re taking courses in the meantime,” Karen said. “That’s smart.”

“Courses?”

“That Monarch you dropped. Don’t worry-I won’t snitch to your prof.”

“Prof?”

“I had one who confiscated any crib she saw. Like it was smuggled dope or something.”

Eddie’s muscles, tendons, ligaments, didn’t feel so relaxed anymore, and he was very thirsty. “It’s just for pleasure,” he said.

She smiled. “Dope?”

“The Monarch.”

“I’m teasing. What kind of Monarch does anyone read for pleasure?”

For some reason, Eddie didn’t want to tell her. He could see no way to avoid it. “ ‘The Rime of the Ancient Mariner.’ ”

“You’re kidding.”

“I guess it’s just a trifle,” Eddie said, recalling Ram’s opinion; a trifle like “The Cremation of Sam McGee.”

“I hope not,” said Karen. “I wrote my senior thesis on it. ‘The Cruciform Bird: Christian Symbolism, Coleridge, and the Fate of the Mariner.’ ”

Karen laughed. Eddie laughed too. This was fun-fun to sit in the steam bath with this beautiful woman, wrapped in fluffy towels, throwing words around. The man with the sandy mustache peeked through the window again and went away.

“If it’s for pleasure, why not just read the poem?” Karen asked.

“I know the poem,” Eddie said. “It’s just that-”

“What do you mean, you know it?”

“By heart.”

“The whole thing?”

Eddie nodded. She looked at him, bathed in sweat now. “I don’t believe you.”

Eddie could have recited the beginning, as he had for the bookstore boy. Or he could have recited the arm-biting stanza, since it had just been on his mind. Instead, he began:

Her lips were red, her looks were free,

Her locks were yellow as gold.

His voice dropped.

“Go on.”

He didn’t want to go on. The sentiment was crude, the comparison inappropriate, applying to Sookray, maybe, but not to this woman.

Karen, in a low voice, finished it for him:

Her skin was as white as leprosy,

The nightmare LIFE-IN-DEATH was she,

Who thicks men’s blood with cold.

There was silence, except for the hissing steam.

“What does your crib make of that?” Karen said.

“I don’t know,” Eddie said. “I got it to find out something else.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s kind of stupid.”

“I doubt it.”

They looked at each other through the steam. Her legs had parted slightly. Her left knee was almost touching his right. His whole right leg tingled, as though it were being acted upon by some force.

Eddie cleared his throat. “I’m trying to find out why the Mariner shoots the albatross in the first place.”

Karen didn’t smile, didn’t laugh. He started to like her. “There are only two explanations I can see,” she said.

“What are they?”

“The first, less supported by the text, is the Everest explanation.”

“Because it was there?”

“Check. And the second, which fits much better, is the apple-and-Eve explanation.”

“Meaning?”

“Original sin.”

Eddie didn’t like that one. He preferred some of his own devising-such as the Mariner was afraid of sailing fast, or jealous that the bird could fly.

“Doesn’t grab, huh?” said Karen.

“No.”

“I didn’t believe in original sin either for the longest time. My work has convinced me otherwise.”

What had Jack said? She managed family money. “You’re an investor?”

“Right.”

Eddie didn’t see how that would give her special insight into original sin, and she offered no elaboration.

“I’m going to melt,” Karen said. She stood up, leaving a sweaty imprint of her sex on the bench. “And I’ve got to give your brother a call, as a matter of fact.”

Eddie rose too. “He’s out of town.”

Her voice grew sharper. “Where?” She hitched up her towel.

Eddie paused. They were very close. The heat, the nearness of their almost-naked bodies: what would happen if he just put his arms around her? He had no idea. He looked down into her eyes. There was something odd about them, but he couldn’t place it.

“I can’t believe he didn’t tell me,” Karen said, backing away. Suddenly she was angry. “That’s so sloppy of him. He knew this was rollover day. We discussed it last night. This is going to cost-him and us.”

Eddie didn’t know what rollover day meant, or how missing it would cost anyone. But it all sounded probable. “He’s gone to Grand Cayman. I don’t know where he’s staying.”

“Thank Christ,” Karen said. “I know where he stays. You just saved him a bundle. And me.”