GARDEN OF EDEN by Ernest Hemingway

This was the first time since they had come on the wedding trip that he had taken a drink of brandy or whiskey when they were not together. But he was not working and his only rules about drinking were never to drink before or while he was working. It would be good to work again but that would come soon enough as he well knew and he must remember to be unselfish about it and make it as clear as he could that the enforced loneliness was regrettable and that he was not proud of it. He was sure she would be fine about it and she had her own resources but he hated to think of it, the work, starting when they were as they were now. It never could start of course without the clarity and he wondered if she knew that and if that was why she drove beyond what they had for something new that nothing could break. But what could it be? They could not be held tighter together than they were now and there was no bad ness afterwards. There was only happiness and loving each other and then hunger and replenishing and starting over.

He found that he had drunk the fine a l’eau and that it was getting late in the afternoon. He ordered another and started to concentrate on the paper. But the paper did not interest him as it should and he was looking out at the sea with late afternoon sun heavy on it when he heard her come into the cafe and say in her throaty voice, “Hello darling.”

She came quickly to the table and sat down and lifted her chin and looked at him with the laughing eyes and the golden face with the tiny freckles. Her hair was cropped as short as a boy’s. It was cut with no compromises. It was brushed back, heavy as always, but the sides were cut short and the ears that grew close to her head were clear and the tawny line of her hair was cropped close to her head and smooth and sweeping back. She turned her head and lifted her breasts and said, “Kiss me please.”

He kissed her and looked at her face and at her hair and he kissed her again.

“Do you like it? Feel it how smooth. Feel it in back,” she said.

He felt it in back.

“Feel on my cheek and feel in front of my ear. Run your fingers up at the sides.”

“You see,” she said. “That’s the surprise. I’m a girl. But now I’m a boy too and I can do anything and anything and anything.”

“Sit here by me,” he said. “What do you want, brother.”

“Oh thank you,” she said. “I’ll take what you’re having. You see why it’s dangerous, don’t you?”

“Yes. I see.

“But wasn’t I good to do it?”

“Maybe.”

“Not maybe. No. I thought about it. I’ve thought all about it. Why do we have to go by everyone else’s rules? We’re us.

“We were having a good time and I didn’t feel any rules.”

“Would you please just put your hand over it again.”

He did and he kissed her.

“Oh you’re sweet,” she said. “And you do like it. I can feel and I can tell. You don’t have to love it. Just like it at first.”

“I like it,” he said. “And you have such a beautifully shaped head that it is very beautiful with the lovely bones of your face.”

“Don’t you like it at the sides?” she asked. “It isn’t faked or phony. It’s a true boy’s haircut and not from any beauty shop.”

“Who cut it?”

“The coiffeur at Aigues Mortes. The one who cut your hair a week ago. You told him how you wanted yours cut then and I told him to cut mine just the same as yours. He was very nice and wasn’t at all surprised. He wasn’t worried at all. He said exactly like yours? And I said exactly. Doesn’t it do anything to you, David?”

“Yes,” he said.

“Stupid people will think it is strange. But we must be proud. I love to be proud.”

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