Nude Men

and that’s all that matters.”
     
    H enrietta often doesn’t cry now but just sits motionless, as though deep in thought. I ask her what she’s doing. She says, “I’m trying to figure out why Sara died. I’m sure there’s an explanation.”
    “What sort of explanation are you talking about? Do you mean spiritual?”
    “Maybe not.”
    “Do you mean supernatural, or magical, or astrological?”
    “No, not that at all.”
    “Do you mean scientific?”
    “Probably.”
    “But we know the scientific reason.”
    “No, that was the medical reason.”
    “Well then, what sort of scientific are you talking about?”
    “Unknown scientific.”
    “Like what?”
    “I don’t know. It’s unknown.”
    “But I mean what area of science?”
    “It could be any area, though I would think it’s probably space, and life, and the mind.”
    “Life as in ‘life on other planets’?” I say, trying to be funny. She looks at me, not amused, but not hurt, as I was afraid she might be. “No, not that at ad,” she says serenely.
     
    * * *
     
    H enrietta wants to go back home, says she’s not feeling better at my mother’s. I don’t think she should give up so soon. It’s only been a week. I feel terrible, totally powerless. If anything could have helped her, it would have been to paint. That was the best chance she had. As soon as this thought enters my mind, I realize I’m lying. I haven’t done quite enough for her.
    A tiny idea germinates in my mind. It remains very little and almost subconscious, because I suppress it. But it’s there, nagging at me: I could offer myself to her. That might be the most helpful thing I could do. She probably wouldn’t accept, but it’s the gesture that counts. But then I tell myself: Jeremy, your body is not a cake. You don’t offer it to be polite. You are not a cigarette either, and should not expect her to say, “No thanks, I don’t smoke,” or “Yes, thanks a lot.”
    I just feel it’s my duty to do this. I love my girlfriend, Laura, but I feel as though I’m not a true friend to Lady Henrietta if I don’t offer myself completely. I know this reasoning sounds demented. It does to me too, but the idea is planted in my brain, and I can’t get rid of it, no matter how hard I try.
    That afternoon, she tells me, “Before she died, I was wondering how it would be for me once she was gone. I knew it would be horrible, that I would be in terrible pain, but I thought I would be strong enough to get through it. I even imagined that, a day or two after her death, I would sort of turn to stone and be very unemotional, especially outwardly. But that’s not what happened. I can’t stop crying, and I feel as though I’ll never be able to stop.”
    I hug her and stroke her hair, and yet I think that now is not the right time to offer myself. Tonight would be better. I’m very nervous about the idea, but I feel I should at least try, knowing that I would later be ashamed if I hadn’t.
    That night, she is lying on her bed, her back to me. I lie down next to her and wrap one arm around her. She hugs my arm, and I feel the tears on her cheeks.
    “Don’t cry. Turn around,” I tell her.
    She snivels but doesn’t move.
    “Turn around. I want to tell you something.” I gently pull her shoulder toward me. She turns and looks at me. She looks like a child. Grief has swollen her face, giving the impression of baby fat. She seems vulnerable and helpless.
    Now that she is facing me, I don’t know what to say, so I just kiss her. She does not push me away. I hug her and kiss her, and nothing is said. It seems as though nothing is thought either. For some strange reason, everything feels very right and appropriate, as if this will solve ad our problems, will take away our sadness. But then I realize it’s not true, it can’t be true. Pain doesn’t go away just like that.
     
    M aybe it does. The next morning Lady Henrietta smiles at me for the first time in a long time. She says, “We can go back home now. Would you mind if we left tomorrow?”
    “Don’t you think you should stay here a little longer, to get through this hard period?”
    “I’m okay now. I feel much better and at peace, as though something has been resolved and things are the way they’re supposed to be.”
    She puts the lid on the box of tangled hair and says, “What happened between us last night made me feel as though we were in touch with Sara. It brought us closer to her. I think it was