Burnt Offerings (Valancourt 20th Century Classics) Read Online Free Page A

problems,” she announced brightly. “ Flight .” She sprang up on the word, saying as she crossed the room, “Now don’t yell. Just listen.”
    She looked back; he was lighting his cigarette. She lifted the paper and a green beanbag ashtray from the desk, and carried them back to the couch. When he saw the newspaper, he let his chin drop to his chest wearily; he exhaled a balloon of smoke and Marian could see stars, spirals and exclamation points in the motes. “Shut up,” she said.
    She placed the ashtray in front of him even though there was another one, delicately frilled Belleek, on the endtable beside him. Ben waited for her to settle on the floor in front of him.
    “Her position became suppliant,” he said, stentorian.
    “Listen.” She poked him, cleared her throat and read: “ ‘Unique summer home. Restful, secluded. Perfect for large family. Pool, private beach, dock – ’ ”
    He laughed.
    “ Listen .” She read on: “ ‘Long season. Very reasonable for the right people.’ ” The italics were hers.
    “Racist pigs,” he said.
    “That’s not what they mean.” She held the paper out to him, like a particularly ripe tomato. “Two and a half hours from the city. What could be more perfect?”
    “What city?” he asked. “Warsaw?”
    “New York, dummy.”
    “And very reasonable, hunh?”
    “That’s what it says.”
    Ben put his cigarette down, brushed the paper aside, and grabbed both her hands, pressing them into an even more suppliant position. “Honey,” he said, “that desk was reasonable, remember?” He nodded at the antique desk where his papers were, and some of his books; the kitchen table was where he actually worked.
    “What has that got to do with it?”
    “A lesson in semantics, the decline and fall of meaning.”
    “Oh, stop; we’re not in your crummy classroom.”
    “Lucky us.” He went on, careful to keep it light and without any note of reproach: “The breakfront was reasonable, or so they told me, and the fancy chairs – ”
    “ Bergères .”
    “ – the endtables, the lamps, the chotzkies, and Christ knows what you’ve got stashed away in the closets. ‘Reasonable,’ or some parody of the word, has left us with roughly two thousand in the bank, after nine years.”
    “That’s probably two thousand more than a lot of people have,” she said. “Why are you foaming at the mouth, for God’s sake?”
    “Because a house with a beach and a pool and a dock is not going to be reasonable, nohow. Now that’s what we call nipping it in the bud.”
    “Ben J. Negative. All the time negative.”
    “We can’t swing a summer place.” He brought her hands up and down, keeping time with the words. The newspaper fell between them, scrawled with telephone numbers and doodles. “What’s wrong with two weeks upstate, three weeks if you want?”
    She said, “ Yech! ” and pulled her hands away. For a long between-rounds moment they looked at each other, Marian with an exaggerated pout that would make him feel hopelessly cruel and unreasonable.
    “Benjie,” she whimpered, moving closer to him. “Why be such a shit?” She crept between his legs and pressed her face against his chest. Her hair brushed his arms.
    He let her maneuver herself into position. Then, “I get it,” he said.
    “Get what?” He could feel the words against his chest.
    “Your tit ’n’ ass getup. You’re trying to seduce me into it.”
    “Would I do anything so cheap and transparent?” She hugged him tighter. “We could at least look, couldn’t we? Just to prove how right you are, and smart, and level-headed.” She looked up at his chin; her expression, if he could see it, was one of helpless guilt. “I did, after all . . . call them.”
    “You called them,” he repeated calmly.
    “These sweet little gingerbread people who’re so reasonable. They’re expecting us.”
    “When?”
    “Saturday?” she asked. His silence encouraged her. “Just think, Benjie – a lovely