Chapter 22: All Four, Aloud

Léon took the collar off, kissed the sore place under my chin, and put it in his pocket.

"It's done," he said. "Your choice from here."

"I want to finish," I said. "Without it."

I slid down from the table and walked to the three old men in my bare feet.

The thin one with white hair offered me his arm.

I led him to the end of the table, laid him back on a chair, and sat on him.

He gasped.

He was very old and very gentle, and I rode him slowly with my hands on his shoulders.

The other two stood beside us and waited their turn.

I kissed one and took the other in my hand.

Nobody hurried.

When it was over, each of them thanked me by name, and each of them kissed my hand.

They left by the front door, in their coats, into the cold.

I stood in the empty dining room, naked and sticky, with a split lip and a hot cheek.

I began to laugh.

"We're going home," said Dominique, and wrapped me in Léon's coat.

In my small bedroom, at one in the morning, there were five of us.

The bed was too narrow.

The window was open to the street, and a motorbike went by.

Armand had put ice on my cheek and checked my pupils twice.

Auguste had said nothing the whole way, and he said nothing now.

He sat on the edge of the bed with his elbows on his knees and looked at the floor.

"You're quiet," I said.

"I should have killed him."

"You ruined him."

"It isn't the same."

"It's better." I took his hand and drew him down. "Lie down. All of you. I'm not finished."

They looked at one another.

"Elise," said Dominique. "It's late. You're hurt."

"My face is hurt. The rest of me is wide awake."

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