Time's Arrow

Time's Arrow by Martin Amis Read Free Book Online

Book: Time's Arrow by Martin Amis Read Free Book Online
Authors: Martin Amis
adventures they ended up going their separate ways. By this time Irene was emitting a steady gurgle of contentment, when she wasn't laughing her head off. Everyone was laughing. But not Tod. Not Tod. To be fair, I didn't think it was funny either. We ended up at a bar near the theater. She had stingers. Tod with his steins. And although Tod walked home in a filthy temper (he was thoroughly out of sorts), our parting with Irene was marked by its cordiality and warmth. I know I'm going to be seeing a lot more of her. On top of which we came out twenty-eight dollars to the good. Make that thirty-one with the popcorn. It doesn't sound like much but you've got to watch out these days, with everything constantly getting cheaper and Tod grimly counting his money the whole time.
    Me, I'm head over heels. I don't know whether I'm coming or going. The forgiveness offered by her young blue eyes, which peep out in mortal embarrassment from the old sneaker of her face, so puffed, so pinched, so parched. Mmm—people! It seems to me that you need a lot of courage, or a lot of something, to enter into others, into other people. We all think that everyone else lives in fortresses, in fastnesses: behind moats, behind sheer walls studded with spikes and broken glass. But in fact we inhabit much punier structures. We are, it turns out, all jerry-built. Or not even. You can just stick your head under the flap of the tent and crawl right in. If you get the okay.
    So perhaps escape is possible. Escape from the—from the indecipherable monad. As for her journey into him, well, that's tougher. She tells us things about ourself. But how much does she really know? Tod's playing it cool, of course, as always. I still don't know if he'll ever come across.
     
    It's quite exciting, I suppose—the news about my wife and child. The wife and child that Tod and I will one day have. But babies worry me. We do know, naturally, that babies are always causing worry and concern. They are very worrying little creatures.
    Where do they go, the little creatures who disappear: the vanished? I have an intractable presentiment that I will soon start seeing them in Tod's dream.
    Every sixth or seventh day or so, in the morning, as we prepare to sack out, and go through the stunned routines of miring, of mussing (we derange each eyebrow with a fingerstroke against the grain), Tod and I can feel the dream just waiting to happen, gathering its energies from somewhere on the other side. We're fatalistic. We lie there, with the lamp burning, while dawn fades. Tepid sweats form, and shine, and instantly evaporate. Then our heart rate climbs, steadily, until our ears are gulping on the new blood. Now we don't know who we are. I have to be ready for when Tod makes his lunge for the light switch. And then in darkness with a shout that gives a fierce twist to his jaw—we're in it. The enormous figure in the white coat, his black boots straddling many acres. Somewhere down there, between his legs, the line of souls. I wish I had power, just power enough to avert my eyes. Please, don't show me the babies. . . . Where does the dream come from? He hasn't done it yet. So the dream must be about what Tod will eventually do.
    There is a thing out there called fashion. Fashion is for youth and all its volatility, but Tod and I occasionally dabble. For example, we went to the thrift store not so long ago and picked up two pairs of flared pants. I wanted to try them on right there but for months he let them dangle in the closet upstairs, growing the wrinkles and air pockets that would finally fit his shape, the peculiar wishbone of his shanks. Then, one night, he unceremoniously slipped into them. Later, after work, I got a pretty good look at these new pants of ours, as Tod stood before the full-length mirror unknotting the plump Windsor of his tie. Well, they weren't actually outrageous, Tod's flares, nothing like the twin-ballgown effect we would soon start seeing on the street. But I

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