The Rosy Crucifixion 3 - Nexus by Henry Miller Page A

they arrived. There was no way to let you know in time. That’s why I didn’t meet you.
    She dove into the pile and extracted a bottle of Benedictine. Stasia had already selected some black caviar and biscuits.
    I didn’t bother to ask how they had come by the loot. That would leak out of itself, later.
    Isn’t there any wine? I asked.
    Wine? Of course there was. What would I like—Bordeaux, Rhine wine, Moselle, Chianti, Burgundy … ?
    We opened a bottle of Rhine wine, a jar of lachs, and a tin of English biscuits—the finest. Resumed our places around the gut table.
    Stasia’s pregnant, said Mona. Like she might have said—Stasia’s got a new dress.
    Is that what you were celebrating?
    Of course not.
    I turned to Stasia. Tell us about it, I said, I’m all ears.
    She turned red and looked helplessly at Mona. Let her tell you, she said.
    I turned to Mona. Well?
    It’s a long story, Val, but I’ll make it short. She was attacked by a bunch of gangsters in the Village. They raped her.
    They? How many?
    Four, said Mona. Do you remember the night we didn’t come home? That was the night.
    Then you don’t know who the father is?
    The father is, they echoed. We’re not worrying about the father.
    I’d be glad to take care of the brat, said I. All I need to learn is how to produce milk.
    We’ve spoken to Kronski, said Mona. He’s promised to take care of things. But first he wants to examine her.
    Again?
    He’s got to be certain.
    Are you certain?
    Stasia is. She’s stopped menstruating.
    That means nothing, said I. You’ve got to have better evidence than that.
    Stasia now spoke up. My breasts are getting heavy. She unbuttoned her blouse and took one out. See! She squeezed it gently. A drop or two of what looked like yellow pus appeared. That’s milk, she said.
    How do you know?
    I tasted it.
    I asked Mona to squeeze her breasts and see what would happen, but she refused. Said it was embarrassing.
    Embarrassing? You sit with your legs crossed and show us everything you’ve got, but you won’t take your boobies out. That’s not embarrassing, that’s perverse.
    Stasia burst out laughing. It’s true, she said. What’s wrong with showing us your breasts?
    You’re the one who’s pregnant, not I, said Mona.
    When is Kronski coming?
    To-morrow.
    I poured myself another glass of wine and raised it on high. To the unborn! I said. Then lowering my voice, I inquired if they had notified the police.
    They ignored this. As if to tell me the subject was closed, they announced that they were planning to go to the theatre shortly. They’d be glad to have me come along, if I wished.
    To see what? I asked.
    The Captive, said Stasia. It’s a French play. Everybody’s talking about it.
    During the conversation Stasia had been trying to cut her toe nails. She was so awkward that I begged her to let me do it for her. When I had finished the job I suggested that she let me comb her hair. She was delighted.
    As I combed her hair she read aloud from The Drunken Boat. Since I had listened with evident pleasure she jumped up and went to her room to fetch a biography of Rimbaud. It was Carry’s Season in Hell. Had events not conspired to thwart it, I would have become a devotee of Rimbaud then and there.
    It wasn’t often, I must say, that we passed an evening together in this manner, or ended it on such a good note.
    With Kronski’s arrival next day and the results of the examination negative, things commenced to go awry in earnest. Sometimes I had to vacate the premises while they entertained a very special friend, usually a benefactor who brought a supply of groceries or who left a check on the table. Conversing before me they often indulged in double talk, or exchanged notes which they wrote before my eyes. Or they would lock themselves in Stasia’s room and there keep up a whispered conversation for an ungodly while. Even the poems Stasia wrote were becoming more and more unintelligible. At least, those she deigned to