'I've been wanting to come before,' he said. When she just went on making up the couch he said stupidly: 'I got my PhD.' She stared at him, then went back to tucking in the blanket. 'I've been looking for a job,' he said.
'Have you found one?' She flounced the pillow.
'No.'
She beckoned him away from the sleeping baby. In the kitchen, she opened a beer for him, pouring off some for herself. 'For the breasts,' she said, toasting him with her glass. 'It makes the milk run.'
'I know.'
'Oh right, you would,' she said. She played with her bathrobe belt, then asked, 'What do you want, Trumper?'
But he was too slow to answer.
'You just feeling guilty?' she asked. 'Because I don't need that. You owe me nothing more than your straight, honest feelings, Trumper ... If you have any,' she added.
'How do you live?' he asked her. 'You can't work,' he began, then stopped, knowing that money wasn't the issue. His straight, honest feelings were a long way down in a bog he'd been skirting for so long that now it seemed impossible to dive in and grope.
'I can work,' she said mechanically, 'and I do. I mean, I will. When he gets a little older. I'll take him to Matje's while I work half-days. Matje wants to have a baby herself soon ...'
'That's Ralph's new girl?' he asked.
'His wife,' Tulpen said. 'Ralph married her.'
Trumper realized then that he knew absolutely nothing about anybody. 'Ralph's married?' he
said.
'He sent you an invitation,' Tulpen said. 'But you'd already left Iowa.'
He was beginning to be aware of just how much he had left. But Tulpen was tired of his long interior monologues, and he guessed she didn't need any more of his silences, either. From the living room he watched her go to bed; she took her bathrobe off under the covers and threw it on the floor. 'Since you remember babies, it won't surprise you that there's a two o'clock feeding,' she said. 'Goodnight.'
He went into the bathroom and peed with the door open. He'd always left the bathroom door open; it was another of his foul habits which he only remembered in the midst of practicing them. When he came out, Tulpen said, 'How's the new prick?'
What's this - humor? he wondered. He had no genuine instincts to rely on. 'Perfectly normal,' he said.
'Goodnight,' she said, and as he tiptoed to his made-up couch he had an impulse to hurl his shoes against the wall and wake up the baby just to hear his piercing cries fill this empty place.
He lay listening to his own breathing, and Tulpen's, and the baby's. Only the baby was asleep.
'I love you, Tulpen,' he said.
A turtle in the aquarium nearest him seemed to respond; it dove deeper.
'I came here because I want you,' he said.
Not even a fish moved.
'I need you,' he said. 'I know that you don't need me, but I need you.'
'Well, it's not quite like that,' she said, so softly that he could hardly hear her.
He sat up on the couch. 'Will you marry me, Tulpen?'
'No,' she said. There was no hesitation.
'Please?' he said softly.
This time she waited, but then she said, 'No, I won't.'