The Mare

Paul

When we got home, it was past ten and they wanted to go to bed. They all slept together, so we gave them our bedroom. The upstairs thermostat was in that room and when I went in to turn it down for the night they were already asleep: the woman holding the boy to her breasts, he embracing her fiercely; Velvet with her back to them, rolled as far away to the other side of the bed as she could go. I thought, That says it all.

I went to tell it to Ginger, but she was already in bed with the light out. When I lay down with her, I could feel her rigidity even before I touched her; she was inaccessible, locked. Like I did not exist. And not for the first time. “What is it?” I asked.

She said, “Human love is the vilest thing in the world.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I just said it.”

“Why?”

“Because she loves them. I can tell she loves them. But when they were getting into their nightclothes, she made Velvet come stand out in the hall in her gown and she talked at me. And Velvet translated. She said, ‘My mom wants you to look and see how ugly I am.’ ” Ginger breathed hard and slow, like she was pushing with all her might against something that would not give.