56 OSCILLATIONS Suddenly everything starts churning. Using all anchored organs for ballast, she holds herself together; he will not shake her up, will not frag- ment her. His belly bloats with gases, goes into a rumble. So! He is trying to purge himself by purging her. The rejection infuriates her. She will come out when she is good and ready, and she will use the exit of her choice. Tough shit, Manuelo! She braces herself against his spasms. P'S&Q’S “Mind them!” her mother had warned. But what were they? She had learned the alphabet thor- oughly but the deeper meanings of p’s and q's had eluded her. If she had gone further in her study of letters, would she have led a simpler life? REFLECTION MM strains. O resists. The battle is in earnest. Some old words rise to the occasion. “The man who hates you and the woman who is hated are probably one and the same,” her psychiatrist had suggested, madden- ing her (at the time) into silence. Was he speaking of suicide? Hers? The thought sobers her and sheds light. After all, itis almost spring out there. The crocuses are already beginning their day-open night-close ritual. She could if she chose walk outside with- out a coat, breathing sunlight. Someone, also without a coat, might be coming round the cor- ner, fated to bump chests with her. Her mind too, sherealizes, can turn corners. And certainly Abigale, herold friend, must be waiting for her in the park this very moment. SURE IS His stomach is storming around her with*a ven- geance. She holds on for dear life. O yes, it is so so dear, good old life. It is indeed of the es- sence, hers in particular. Her imagination has never yet failed her. She will live! Out of the darkness, the closet, the belly of this male whale. The way is lighted by divine coincidence as MM opens his mouth widely to expel a belch. The light rays down his throat, a sign. Her route has been decided. Really, there are possibilities in everything, even a belch, she concludes. TRANSLATION (AFTER RILKE) Manuelo has thrown caution to the winds. “Do something,” he pleads. “I need help.” “Yes,” agrees the doctor, “you must change your life.” O but it hurts! His eyes are blind with tears. Manuelo weeps with the effort to.restrain them. UNITED SHE CAN He falls back into his chair, trying to relax, inad- vertently giving her the room she needs to ma- neuver. She holds herself snugly in her own arms; they mate with their respective sockets, home at last. Now, able to manipulate with her hands, the rest is easy. She catches her drifting breasts and fixes them onto her chest. She knows which is which, having observed in moments of self-criticism that the left is slightly larger than the right. It occurs to her at this juncture that nature is purposive in all plans. Nothing is very much like anything else, each thing is essentially itself and under no compulsion to be other. Goodbye then, Manuelo’s Olympia! Goodbye velvet settee and languid pose! MM'’s ass presses down into the seat, squeezing her upward. Her body rises toward her head and miraculously naturally unites with it. He cannot keep her down. He does not want to. She is on her way. VOYAGING Still afraid that she will fall apart—these connec- tions are so tenuous, so untested —she kicks her feet, gingerly at first, then with increasing vigor as she finds to her elation that they will move her. She paddles upward toward his heart. O the current there is strong; she struggles bravely; she falters, sucked into its vortex; she kicks, she flails and manages, through stratagems newly known to science, to bypass the whole throbbing mass. The worst is over. She catches her breath at his lungs and then, with a great final spurt, dives through his esophagus. WHOOPS! She spills out of his mouth. “Hi, Manuelo.” “Olympial!” They stand gaping at each other, both of them messy with blood and other slime. She sets him straight at once. “My real name’s Claire. Can | take a shower?”