The Dogs of Babel

FIFTEEN

Lexy and I had a small and lovely wedding. Lexy wore a sheath of white silk and carried red dahlias. She let her bridesmaids pick their own dresses. We wore no masks at all, save those of our own shining faces.

The morning after we were married, Lexy woke up and said, “I had the strangest dream. I have to remember to write it down in my book.”

“What was it about?” I asked.

“Well, I was a writer, and I was really famous, but I had only ever written one sentence.”

“What was the sentence?”

“‘I remember my wife in white.’ It just made people weep to hear it. In the dream, I couldn’t even say it all the way through without choking up.”

She was beautiful in the morning sun, and I gathered her to me. We were naked except for our wedding rings, and I had never been so happy.

“‘I remember my wife in white’?” I said into her hair.

“Yeah. Everybody just thought it was the saddest sentence that was ever written. And it didn’t matter if I never wrote another word. This one sentence had put an end to the need for any future sentences. I had said it all.”

I could see her wedding dress hanging in the wardrobe next to my tux from the night before. I liked the tableau it created, the two of us dancing together without our bodies.

“I don’t think it’s a sad sentence,” I said. “My whole life I’ll remember the way you looked last night, and there’s no way it could ever make me anything but happy.”

She smiled. “Know what it’s time for?” she said.

“Room service?”

“No. I think it’s time to reconsummate the marriage. I’m not sure it took the first time.”

On our honeymoon, we went on a cruise, and Lexy was sick for two days. For two days, I wandered the ship on my own, playing cards with the old men and looking out at the great sea, returning from time to time to check on my bride, who lay weak in the bed and retched emptily into the commode in the tiny lavatory.

On the third morning, Lexy sat up and asked me to bring her some breakfast. I ordered a feast for her—eggs and sausages and fresh fruit, bacon and coffee and tiny pancakes arranged prettily on a plate. I persuaded the waiter to give up his white jacket for a few moments so that I could deliver the food to my wife myself. When I returned to Lexy, I found her sitting up against the pillows, her hair lovely and wild around her face. Now, I thought, our life begins.

I fed her with my fingers until she protested that she had better not overdo it. Then I helped her dress and took her out to see what she had been missing. Here is the sea and the bright hot day. Here are the men playing cards. Here I am with the woman I love, walking under the sun.