A WEEK AFTER Liz left, Matthew decided that he might as well go out and try his luck at finding solace between the legs of other women; at once the question arose, at first only hypothetically, whether he ought to use condoms. He was, at that time, afraid of getting herpes, but it seemed awfully timid to be afraid of herpes, and he didn’t want to admit to the fear. Then along came AIDS, and in a way AIDS has really been a godsend to Matthew. Now that so many people are afraid of death by sex, he can use a condom without feeling like a coward, and he can avoid herpes. He has never brought this matter up with Belinda. The first time they made love, he didn’t use a condom. He had a lot on his mind, and he tried to concentrate exclusively on the pleasure of the moment, but he couldn’t help himself — he worried a bit; even his sexual fantasies include periods of concern about disease. For her part, Belinda had a fleeting fear of pregnancy, but they were both so surprised and happy to find themselves making love to each other that they didn’t want to spoil it. The second time, Matthew used a condom. He didn’t say anything about it; he just put it on. He’s sure they both feel much more secure this way, and he suspects — in his case he’s certain — that there’s an element of excitement introduced by the condom, because it implies that Belinda isn’t Matthew’s only lover, thereby making him seem a little more interesting, a man who has sexual adventures. It makes him feel virile, too, since he might, of course, be using the condom to protect Belinda from an unwanted pregnancy, though he suspects, and has some reason to believe, that there’s little danger of that. He also supposes that the condom is an emblem of his affection for Belinda, his concern for her well-being, since her assumption must be, if she has inferred properly from the implication in his wearing the thing, that it is she who must be protected from the possible consequences of his adventures. He also feels that if Liz should come back, if she could be persuaded to come back, he could offer these condoms as evidence of his essential loyalty, a distance that he kept between himself and Belinda. All these thoughts and feelings reside in a condom, so many ideas in such a small thing.
WHEN THEY’RE FINISHED, they lie for a while on their backs, looking at the night sky through the skylights. They hold hands, but otherwise their bodies do not touch. After a while Belinda asks, “What time is it?”
Matthew sits up and looks at the clock on one of the chrome tables. “Nearly midnight,” he says.
“I have to go. I’m taking Leila skiing tomorrow.”
He calls a cab. “I’ll call you during the week,” he says at the door. He waits until the elevator arrives, blows Belinda a silent kiss, then waits at the door a while longer. He hears no elevator alarm bell, so he locks up. He collects his folded clothes from the living room, hangs his pants and jacket, puts his shirt into the bag of things to go to the cleaner, drops his socks and underwear into the laundry basket, gets into bed, and falls asleep quickly.
IN THE NIGHT, he’s awakened by sounds from his neighbor’s apartment. A thumping and knocking drag him out of sleep, and when he’s awake he hears cries, four sharp cries. He has heard these cries before, just this way. He can’t tell whether the guy is having a nightmare or an orgasm. He listens for a while, but after the four cries there’s nothing more, and Matthew still can’t tell what inspired them. He goes back to sleep.
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🎧 427: A week after . . .