The Hired Girl(105)

I got up and filled two more dishes for the cat: one with water and another with milk — Thomashefsky likes his little lap of milk. I glanced at David and saw that he was watching me with an odd smile on his face. I would say it was a tenderhearted smile, except that seems presumptuous.

An idea came to me. “Let’s slip upstairs and shut the cat in Malka’s room!”

David tilted his head skeptically. “Do you really think you can carry that beast up all those stairs? He always bites me.”

I expect this is true, because Thomashefsky doesn’t like David. He likes Solly the best, Malka says. But I liked the idea of surprising Malka, and I wanted to show David how well Thomashefsky and I get along. So I reached down and scooped up the cat, but that was a mistake, because he hadn’t finished eating. He said, “Mrrroww!” He struggled — writhed in my arms — clawed my neck — and escaped.

David came to me. “Did he bite you?”

I touched my neck and found it sticky. “He scratched me.”

David threw up his hands as if to say, Of course. “I’ll get the peroxide. Cat scratches can be nasty.” He went without hesitation to the cabinet where Malka keeps her medicines. I guess Malka must have doctored him when he was a little boy. “Come along! I’ll tend to you.”

I went to him and stood still. My heart raced. Maybe I should have said, “I can put the peroxide on myself.” Maybe that’s what a pure and proper young girl would have said. But I guess I’m not very pure or very proper, because I wanted him to touch me. I forgot to write that we hadn’t turned the kitchen lights on. Our eyes had grown accustomed to the darkness; I could almost have read a book in the front part of the kitchen. But where we were, next to the medicine cabinet, it was dim.

I waited. He took a clean dish towel out of the dresser and poured peroxide on it. He held my chin while he touched the damp cloth to my neck.

I want to remember everything. His thumb was under my chin, tilting it up. And there were two fingers on my cheek — his two middle fingers, I think. The nerves under my skin quivered, and a thrill coursed through me. He was very gentle. He poured the peroxide and stroked my neck with the wet towel three times — Malka always says you must cleanse the wound three times. The first two times, I didn’t dare look up. But the third time, I raised my eyes to him and murmured, “Thank you.” I wanted to say, Thank you, David, but I couldn’t say his name.

That’s when he kissed me.

At first I felt nothing but shock. I’ve always wondered about kissing a man — I mean about what you’re supposed to do when you kiss a man, because the two of you aren’t just standing there with your lips frozen together, I know that much. Something happens during a kiss, and I’ve always wondered what the something was. I’ve been worried that if I ever got engaged or anything, I wouldn’t be able to do my fair share.

And that’s just how it was, at first. I felt nothing and did nothing. And then I felt everything: bliss so vast and pure that I’ve thought of little else since. My head swam and I swayed toward him and I was brazen; I rested the palm of my hand against his chest. And I kissed him, and I knew how. It was beyond everything.

He drew back too soon. He inhaled between his teeth and let out a shaky sigh. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

I thought, Why not?

“I shouldn’t have,” he said again. “It was a caddish thing to do. But for a moment, I thought . . .” He didn’t say what he’d thought, and I wish I’d asked. “Forgive me. It won’t happen again.”

“Won’t it?” I said, dismayed. “But I liked it! I liked it better than anything!”

He started to laugh. In the half-light, his mischievous face was like the face of a seraph (except for his nose). The hollows under his cheekbones were so striking, and his curls were a dark halo. “You’re the limit,” he said. “Janet, you really are —”

I didn’t let him finish. I stepped nearer to him, and I was trembling, but I touched my fingertips to his shoulder and stood there, just stood there, close to him. After a second of terrible waiting, he drew me closer — his hands were on my waist, the back of my waist, and he kissed me again.

He was shaking with laughter, and I felt happiness vibrate between us. The second kiss was better than the first because I didn’t waste time wondering what to do. I kissed him, and after he broke away, I raised my face to his, and he kissed me a third time. Oh, his hands on the back of my waist! I felt a tingle that spread and rushed up my spine, and down to my knees, and down to my fingertips. My scalp crawled and my toes shivered. Every fiber of my being felt that kiss.