25.5.2009


ACT 4






ACT 4

http://www.netsaga.is/media/files/Melody.mp3

After discussing their sex life, Violet gradually became convinced that something had to be done. She listened to John and hoped that he could solve the problem.

"I knew a girl," said John, and Violet listened. "This was when I was in the United States." John had gotten an apartment on the first floor of an old wooden house on Bernard Circle. He studied hard as always, was popular and active in the campus social life. On the upper floor lived a young couple with three children. The oldest was a nine-year-old boy and, then, twin girls aged three. The husband, tall and thin, was named Tom LaTendre. He was in his last year of engineering. His wife's name was Merilyn and had the same last name, LaTendre.

Merilyn LaTendre was tall, with rather soft lines, but not exactly thin. She had dark-brown eyes and thick, black hair that she wore straight down to her shoulders. She was not exactly pretty, and her skin was a bit dark and puffy, her mouth small with pouting lips on which she wore bright red lipstick. She spoke slowly and never much, but she had a special, bewitching personality. When she came in, everyone noticed her.

John had often visited them on the upper floor. He had had dinner at their place, and they had barbecued together out in the yard behind the house. Sometimes they came down to him for drinks or just to talk, and a few times they had gone out together with friends. In January Tom was often away. He was doing research in Norfolk. Most often he came home over the weekend, but not always.

One Sunday when Tom was away, Merilyn's parents came for a visit from Louisiana. In the morning they had gone to church with the children, the family being members of the Southern Baptist Church. When they returned from church, John was barbecuing in the yard along with some friends. Whether by coincidence or not, Merilyn had also planned a barbecue party in honor of her parents' visit. Then, there was no question: there was one big barbecue party. The next morning Merilyn's parents returned to Louisiana and took the children along to stay with them for a few days.

When John realized that just he and Merilyn were in the house, he on the ground floor and she upstairs, it occurred to him that something unexpected might happen. This thought grew stronger as the day passed. He knew that she was up there alone, and he began unconsciously to listen to her footsteps. He had often heard racket from the kids when they were horsing around up there, and he had also heard the couple's footsteps; but he had never paid them any special attention. It would have disturbed him. But now it was different. He sat out in his living room and listened to the footsteps of the woman above. He was used to working, reading and preparing for classes; now he sat and got ideas that had not occurred to him before. He hurried to a lecture right after lunch. When he returned, Merilyn was out in the yard. She sat there with her girl friend, and they had gotten comfortable. And because John, by his nature, was not bashful, he greeted the women. Merilyn stood up and introduced her girl friend, Beverly, who worked at a library in the city. John chatted awhile with them and then went in.

That evening, Beverly left, and Merilyn said good-bye to her in front of the house. Then she went in. When she opened the door, John came out in the entryway. Merilyn had gone up a step or two on the way up to her apartment. She gave a start when the door opened and John appeared.

"Excuse me, Merilyn," he said, "I had an idea." There was a moment of quiet. Then he recovered and said cheerily: "I mean, there's no need to be bored even though everyone's gone."

She smiled a little and walked into his apartment.

They sat out in the living room and talked. He told her about Iceland, and she told him about her parents. She slipped upstairs to get a half-bottle of white wine that she and Beverly had not finished, and he went into the kitchen to get a beer. Merilyn sipped the wine, and her smile was friendly and mild. Although Southern Baptists are generally great believers and teetotalers, it was clear that Merilyn went her own way.

John was determined to try his luck with her, and as the evening progressed, he became even more determined. On the other hand, he had no clue what would happen. He could in no way tell whether she would accept him, reject him or what.

"I enjoy writing things," he said, "and I especially like poems."

"Have you written poems?" she asked.

Yes, he had. "Should I compose a poem about you?" he asked.

Then, she smiled a bit more than usual. "Yes, that would be fun," she said as she drained the last of the wine.

John got a sheet of paper and wrote. She watched him, a little curious. He got himself into the mood and wrote the poem.

"Should I read it to you?" he said and stood up.

She smiled, and he read the poem with feeling.



At night

You lie alone

Behind locked doors.

The night

Is like the fog,

Like a wall,

Until the moon

Opens a way for me

In to you -

Into the Kingdom of God.

He sat down and looked at her.

"You write quickly," she said. He looked at her and felt an unusual quietness in her presence.

"I just thought of this before," he said. "I mean just before, while we were talking."

She looked at him and said: "Have you decided a title?"

"No, not yet," he said and looked at the ceiling. Then he looked at her and said as poetically as he could: "I know what I'm going to call it. I'm going to call it, Give me a key to God's Kingdom?"

A little later she went up to her apartment.

He listened to her footsteps. He could hear when she went into the kitchen and then into the bathroom. He heard the shower and when she turned off the water. He thought that she would be drying off about now with a thick, plush towel. Then she went into the bedroom. He heard the door being closed. After that everything was quiet.

He was in a dither. He wondered whether she had understood what he tried to tell her in the poem. If the door turned out to be unlocked, he believed she had certainly understood his drift; if it was locked, he could easily stop there and no one would know.