The Circle Read Online Free
Author: Elaine Feinstein
head, and floated to the floor. Colin put his foot on it, and looked around him. Jane was biting her hand, watching avidly.
Michael looked at the clock. Five minutes till the end of break. He could hear the ticking. I don’t care I don’t care I’ll kill him. His hand found one of the heavier stones on his desk. Which the three boys saw: and closed in on him.
–Colin, screamed Jane.
But Michael didn’t care, he didn’t care he couldn’t feel he didn’t care what hurt him, his thin desperate wrist would find some mark and there. Was the softness of Colin’s astonished mouth, he could just feel someone pulling his hair to lift him off but he didn’t care. If his knuckles were torn. He wriggled and kicked. Eyes streaming. There was blood between Colin’s teeth.
As the bell rang. And solemn black-eyed furious: Mrs. Taylor stood over all of them I don’t care, thought Michael. And surreptitiously with his foot scooped towards himself the still unharmed pink gondola from the floor.
3
Fragments. Like shrapnel in the brain. One morning. A light blue day. Up the curving wood stair with the letters in her hand. Up the uncarpeted stair on a Saturday morning, to the attic floor, that lovely structure of low roof and light through curved windows. Listening for the friendly noise of the children playing below. And Lena feeling friendly and free, bearing some minor good news to Ben, walking lightly up the stairs: casual, bare-footed.
She opened the door of their bedroom. There red-lit through curtains on a sprawl of sheets and clothes. Unexpectedly . Two bodies. A girl, white-shouldered white breasts naked. Ben in his vest. And as Lena stared the girl rose white and solid before her; it was Gertrud. And Ben. Lay there his arm behind the back of his neck expressionless. Lena cold with shock, her heart banging and what to say what? still incredulous, almost uncertain what she had discovered.
So that when the girl was gone Lena sat carefully on his bed and her voice was puzzled and polite even through its shaking.
–Do you want me to go?
–Don’t be silly, he said. And: I wanted you to find out. And: I never pretended to like her.
Young white girl, she thought. No whore/ she brought you sex with custard and rhubarb pie and she washed your socks and underpants like she did the children’s. She was the mother you needed. Now I understand when she washed her hair, and put that record on to wait at the window while you took me to the station. Poor girl. Yet: Lena thought, she would have delighted in my death.
–Well. She must go, she said.
–But not at once, he agreed. That would be cruel.
And those last words reached down into some deep confusion which made her silent. Under the blank surface of her thought there was suddenly something else working. And it was eleven thirty. Time to go out with the children. Lena looked for their coats and gloves numbly. Then they drove off, just she and Ben and the children, along the sea-front silent in the silver March sun, and she barely moved in her seat and could have given no account of what she thought. When Ben found a quiet stretch of sand, they pulled up and at once the children raced off looking for shells. Lena and Ben walked, she could taste the sea on her lips, she was watching the children running, her mind dazed in the sea light. As she watched Ben. And the buried part of her mind was turning about out of her reach, and she could see that the discovery had already receded for him. It was nothing, he insisted again. As they sat on the wooden posts that led down into the sea. And she listened to the cries of the children, the birds there, white birds everywhere and smelt the weed smells and shivered. While the year, the fragments of that savage year turned in her.
*
They were being murdered by debts. And Lena had fallen utterly into deceit and fear, getting up early inthe morning to intercept the post, to
Michael looked at the clock. Five minutes till the end of break. He could hear the ticking. I don’t care I don’t care I’ll kill him. His hand found one of the heavier stones on his desk. Which the three boys saw: and closed in on him.
–Colin, screamed Jane.
But Michael didn’t care, he didn’t care he couldn’t feel he didn’t care what hurt him, his thin desperate wrist would find some mark and there. Was the softness of Colin’s astonished mouth, he could just feel someone pulling his hair to lift him off but he didn’t care. If his knuckles were torn. He wriggled and kicked. Eyes streaming. There was blood between Colin’s teeth.
As the bell rang. And solemn black-eyed furious: Mrs. Taylor stood over all of them I don’t care, thought Michael. And surreptitiously with his foot scooped towards himself the still unharmed pink gondola from the floor.
3
Fragments. Like shrapnel in the brain. One morning. A light blue day. Up the curving wood stair with the letters in her hand. Up the uncarpeted stair on a Saturday morning, to the attic floor, that lovely structure of low roof and light through curved windows. Listening for the friendly noise of the children playing below. And Lena feeling friendly and free, bearing some minor good news to Ben, walking lightly up the stairs: casual, bare-footed.
She opened the door of their bedroom. There red-lit through curtains on a sprawl of sheets and clothes. Unexpectedly . Two bodies. A girl, white-shouldered white breasts naked. Ben in his vest. And as Lena stared the girl rose white and solid before her; it was Gertrud. And Ben. Lay there his arm behind the back of his neck expressionless. Lena cold with shock, her heart banging and what to say what? still incredulous, almost uncertain what she had discovered.
So that when the girl was gone Lena sat carefully on his bed and her voice was puzzled and polite even through its shaking.
–Do you want me to go?
–Don’t be silly, he said. And: I wanted you to find out. And: I never pretended to like her.
Young white girl, she thought. No whore/ she brought you sex with custard and rhubarb pie and she washed your socks and underpants like she did the children’s. She was the mother you needed. Now I understand when she washed her hair, and put that record on to wait at the window while you took me to the station. Poor girl. Yet: Lena thought, she would have delighted in my death.
–Well. She must go, she said.
–But not at once, he agreed. That would be cruel.
And those last words reached down into some deep confusion which made her silent. Under the blank surface of her thought there was suddenly something else working. And it was eleven thirty. Time to go out with the children. Lena looked for their coats and gloves numbly. Then they drove off, just she and Ben and the children, along the sea-front silent in the silver March sun, and she barely moved in her seat and could have given no account of what she thought. When Ben found a quiet stretch of sand, they pulled up and at once the children raced off looking for shells. Lena and Ben walked, she could taste the sea on her lips, she was watching the children running, her mind dazed in the sea light. As she watched Ben. And the buried part of her mind was turning about out of her reach, and she could see that the discovery had already receded for him. It was nothing, he insisted again. As they sat on the wooden posts that led down into the sea. And she listened to the cries of the children, the birds there, white birds everywhere and smelt the weed smells and shivered. While the year, the fragments of that savage year turned in her.
*
They were being murdered by debts. And Lena had fallen utterly into deceit and fear, getting up early inthe morning to intercept the post, to
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