Английский язык с Крестным Отцом
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But she didn't want to complain. It would wear off. In a funny way, men were more
sensitive in a situation like this, she thought. She had found making love to Michael after
a two-year absence the most natural thing in the world. It was as if he had never been
away.
"You could have written me, you could have trusted me," she said, nestling against his
body. "I would have practiced the New England omerta. Yankees are pretty
closemouthed too, you know."
Michael laughed softly in the darkness. "I never figured you to be waiting," he said. "I
never figured you to wait after what happened."
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Kay said quickly, "I never believed you killed those two men. Except maybe when
your mother seemed to think so. But I never believed it in my heart. I know you too
well,"
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She could hear Michael give a sigh. "It doesn't matter whether I did or not," he said.
"You have to understand that."
Kay was a little stunned by the coldness in his voice. She said, "So just tell me now,
did you or didn't you?"
Michael sat up on his pillow and in the darkness a light flared as he got a cigarette
going. "If I asked you to marry me, would I have to answer that question first before
you'd give me an answer to mine?"
Kay said, "I don't care, I love you, I don't care. If you loved me you wouldn't be afraid
to tell me the truth. You wouldn't be afraid I might tell the police. That's it, isn't it? You're
really a gangster then, isn't that so? But I really don't care. What I care about is that you
obviously don't love me. You didn't even call me up when you got back home."
Michael was puffing on his cigarette and some burning
ashes fell on Kay's bare back. She flinched a little and said jokingly, "Stop torturing me,
I won't talk."
Michael didn't laugh. His voice sounded absentminded. "You know, when I came
home I wasn't that glad when I saw my family, my father, my mother, my sister Connie,
and Tom. It was nice but I didn't really give a damn. Then I came home tonight and saw
you in the kitchen and I was glad. Is that what you mean by love?"
"That's close enough for me," Kay said.
They made love again for a while. Michael was more tender this time. And then he
went out to get them both a drink. When he came back he sat on an armchair facing the
bed. "Let's get serious," he said. "How do you feel about marrying me?" Kay smiled at
him and motioned him into the bed. Michael smiled back at her. "Be serious," he said. "I
can't tell you about anything that happened. I'm working for my father now. I'm being
trained to take over the family olive oil business. But you know my family has enemies,
my father has enemies. You might be a very young widow, there's a chance, not much
of one, but it could happen. And I won't be telling you what happened at the office every
day. I won't be telling you anything about my business. You'll be my wife but you won't
be my partner in life, as I think they say. Not an equal partner. That can't be."
Kay sat up in bed. She switched on a huge lamp standing on the night table and then
she lit a cigarette. She leaned back on the pillows and said quietly, "You're telling me
you're a gangster, isn't that it? You're telling me that you're responsible for people being
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killed and other sundry crimes related to murder. And that I'm not ever to ask about that
part of your life, not even to think about it. Just like in the horror movies when the
monster asks the beautiful girl to marry him." Michael grinned, the cracked part of his
face turned toward her, and Kay said in contrition, "Oh, Mike, I don't even notice that
stupid thing, I swear I don't."
"I know," Michael said laughing. "I like having it now except that it makes the snot drip
out of my nose."
"You said be serious," Kay went on. "If we get married what kind of a life am I
supposed to lead? Like your mother, like an Italian housewife with just the kids and
home to take care of? And what about if something happens? I suppose you could wind
up in jail someday."
"No, that's not possible," Michael said. "Killed, yes; jail, no."
Kay laughed at this confidence, it was a laugh that had a funny mixture of pride with
its amusement. "But how can you say that?" she said. "Really."
Michael sighed. "These are all the things I can't talk to you about, I don't want to talk
to you about."
Kay was silent for a long time. "Why do you want me to marry you after never calling
me all these months? Am I so good in bed?"
Michael nodded gravely. "Sure," he said. "But I'm getting it for nothing so why should I