Z : A Love Story

Publisher: 
Place: 
London
Year: 
1997


The novel Z: ástarsaga, translated to English by Anne Jeeves.  


From Z: a Love Story:


I'm going to think of you in New York.


I imagine you in the coffee-shop on Fourht Avenue where the Chinese couple with the roes-patterened aprons work. I can't fathom why they keep pointing with their thumbs to the table by the stairs. Suddenly I realize why. It's because you're sitting there with your back to me and you don't know I'm here. I whisper to Hrafn that I won't be a minute, walk past your table and touch your shoulder. You're wearing a blue dress and you look up and smile. What a beautiful smile you have. There's a curtain across the stairs and the couple point to them and we sit down on the steps. I'll never forget your neck there on the stairs of the restaurant on Forth Avenue. There's a vein in your neck which I suck at and I almost forget that Hrafn is sitting waiting for me.


I'm going to think of you in New York.


I imagine you in the striped bar opposite The New C. Hrafn and I are drinking pina colada, actually waiting for the fourth round. He's tipsy and is talking about us having to move to a new flat. I'm thinking about how lovely your skin is but pretend to show interest in what type of parquet we should have in the living room. Your skin is all beautiful but your back is the most beautiful. When the waiter brings our drinks he pushes an envelope over to me. Hrafn doesn't see anything, I manage to open the envelope and pull out a letter from you. When I look up you're standing behind him. You beckon to me to come, I follow you out into the street and we make love quickly and frenetically in the alley next to The New C.


I’m going to think of you in New York.


I imagine you everywhere.
You’re the girl in the ticket office.
You’re the lead in the film we’re going to see.
You’re the maid in the hotel.
The girl in the lift.
The stripper in the night-club.
The artist’s model at the art exhibition at the X.
The biggest star on Broadway.
I imagine you everywhere.
And next to me in bed at night I touch your eyes, your throat, your breasts, all of you and let myself forget, and bite, sink my teeth into your throat, deeper and deeper, suck at your love with the blood, everything becomes you, and Hrafn, he becomes you as well.
My imagination makes any journey without you a journey with you. Without my imagination I couldn’t go anywhere.
If I didn’t have it, everything would be revealed.

 Loving regards,
             Z

(107-108)