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Updated: June 7, 2025
She crossed the room and lifted him onto her lap; she stroked his head and held his cheek against her shoulder. His open crying subsided into deep sobs; from somewhere she found a handkerchief and made him blow his nose once, twice, and then a deep thrice. "Get me a warm washcloth," she told her husband, and with it she wiped away his tears. The warmth soothed Jimmy more.
Suzanne came in with a washcloth that she doubled and placed across his forehead and eyes. It was cool and moist. "There," she said. He felt her hands on his ankles and then his socks were drawn off. She loosened his belt and fluttered a light cover over his knees and bare feet. "There," she said again, satisfied. Oliver was rarely sick. It was odd but comforting to be treated like a patient.
Gilbert and Nancy let go of You Dirty Boy simultaneously, and he fell to the floor in two large fragments, the break occurring so happily that the mother and the washcloth were on one half, and the boy on the other, a situation long desired by the boy, to whom the parting was most welcome!
She wondered why he was now moving beyond his boundary: and yet he was male, and no different than any Ghengis Khan who conquered new turf and made foreign natures submissive. She wanted to say, "Hello, honey, could you give me a wet washcloth" but she did not want to approach him from weakness and so she said, "You've trespassed the agreed boundaries." "Uh uh!" he negated.
She tore off the loose threads of her washcloth and tied them onto one of her fingers. Then she loudly asked and proclaimed, "Do you take this woman to be your lawful wedded wife to have and to hold until dead do you part? I do. And do you take the same she, yourself, to be your wedded wife to have and to hold until death do you part? I do!
She stood, puzzling vaguely over the damp washcloth that was wrapped about a cake of soap, the magazines of which she had grown so tired, the rumpled night-wear. "I suppose I should hang these up; we may not get the trunks to-night." "Oh, you will!" Lydia reassured her. A certain blankness fell on them all.
When violence was really known and the world was conclusively bad in one's perspective one could go at it alone. In the shower he used a type of dual washcloth connected together like a mitten. He put his hand inside of it and used its abrasive side to scour his body. He tried not to stare at all of the bodies doing the same.
Alison got up some time later. Joe was lying with his eyes closed, arms outstretched, when he felt a washcloth gently but firmly applied. He jumped. "Just cleaning up," she said cheerfully. "Go back to sleep." Joe pictured his apartment. He rolled over on his side. "Alison . . . " he said. "Yes?" "You take to this like a duck to water." "It must be the Swedish," she said seriously.
"If only," she told herself, "I had a washcloth with that scouring side like those one gets in a Japanese sento!" Having none, she scrubbed even harder. "Still," she said, "this is absurd. Nothing will get it out but natural processes over the course of time. As repugnant as it is by instinct, it is no more repugnant than him having grown in me to begin with. I must override instinct with logic.
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