Galatea

by Madeline Miller

They were fucking, that’s why she was so eager. I could hear them sometimes through the wall. I don’t say this in a nasty way, for I don’t begrudge her a good fuck, if it was good, which I don’t know. But I say this so that you understand what I was up against: that I was worth more to her sick than I was well.

The door closed, and the room swelled around me like a bruise. When she was here, I could pretend it felt small because of her, but when she left the four wood walls seemed to press towards me, like lungs that had breathed in.

He is rich because of me, if you want to know, but he doesn’t like it when I say that. He says it’s the goddess’ gift first, and then his own since he was the one who made me from the marble.

Would it not have been easier to marry a girl from the town? I asked. Those sluts, he said, I would not have them. The door opened. “Leave and do not disturb us,” my husband said to the maids, which was unnecessary, since they’ve never disturbed us, not in a year’s time. But my husband thinks himself a potentate these days.

And then he pressed his lips onto mine. “Live,” he said. “Oh live, my life, my love, live.” And that’s when I’m supposed to open my eyes like a dewy fawn, and see him poised over me like the sun, and make a little gasping noise of wonder and gratitude, and then he fucks me.

He frowned, pointing. “What is that?” I looked down at my belly and saw the faint silvery tracks on my skin, caught in the light. “My love, it is the sign of our child. Where the belly stretched.” He stared. “How long have they been there?” “Since she was born.” Ten years ago now. “They are ugly,” he said. “I’m so sorry, my love. It is the same for all women.” “If you were stone, I would chisel them off,” he said. Then he turned and left,

“The color is perfect,” he said, “look.” And he held up the mirror so I could see. “You make the rarest canvas, love.”

The doctor, yes. I will go for him. Just give me a moment, his house isn’t far. As soon as she was gone, I ran. I did not worry about her catching me. She was clever with her fingers, but she was not fast. I smiled and slipped along the road towards the town.