Setting Free the Bears - Page 24

'Standup!' I shouted. 'Why are you down there?'

'Oh, dear,' said Gallen.

'Out of his head,' Siggy told her.

It's a monster of a bathtub, I thought. But I said, 'Let me down easy, up there!'

'God, Graff,' said Siggy, and to Gallen he said, 'He's a ninny. He needs more sleep.'

Then I watched their shadows bent over double and hinged at the ceiling and at the top of the wall; they were moving diagonally to the doorway, and their shadows grew jagged and huge.

'God!' I cried.

'Praise Him!' said Siggy, and they left me to my dark.

It wasn't a bad bit of dark, though; I had the tub walls, cool and smooth, to touch with my tongue, and I could latch hold of the tub rim with both hands, steering myself wherever I felt I must be going - whenever I shut my eyes.

In mad little swirls I was sledding about the bathroom when the doorway-shaped light came at me again, and a shadow unhinged itself, wall to ceiling - grew smaller, fled free-spirited down the other wall, just before the doorway of light closed.

'I saw you,' I said to whatever hadn't gotten out. 'I know very well you're in here, you frotter!'

'Be quiet, Graff,' said Gallen.

'All right,' I said, and I listened for her to come nearer; she sounded like she was under the bathtub. Then I felt the silky little shiver of her blouse across my hand on the tub rim.

'Hello, Gallen,' I said.

'Are you all right, Graff?'

'I can't see you,' I said.

'Well, that's good,' said Gallen. 'Because I've come to change your bandages and make them right.'

'Oh, but Siggy can do that.'

'He's got you wrapped too much.'

'I feel fine,' I said.

'You don't either. I'm just going to take off these old towels and put on a real bandage.'

'It's nice that you work here,' I said, and her braid end brushed my chest.

'Hush,' she said.

'Why are you so far below me, Gallen?'

'I'm above you, silly,' she said.

'Well, it must be a very deep tub.'

'It's on a platform and seems so,' she said.

Then I felt her hands find my chest and skitter down my hips.

'Arch your back, Graff.'

One towel unwound, so lightly her hands never touched me.

Tags: John Irving Fiction
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