Complete Stories (29 page)
Authors: Dorothy Parker,Colleen Bresse,Regina Barreca
He’s away? He’s
what
? Oh, he went to Chicago two weeks ago. Well, it seems to me I’d always heard that there were telephone wires running between here and Chicago, but of course—And you’d think since he’s been back, the least he could do would be to do something. He’s not back yet? He’s not
back
yet? Mona, what are you trying to tell me? Why, just night before last—Said he’d let you know the minute he got home? Of all the rotten, low things I ever heard in my life, this is really the—Mona, dear, please lie down. Please. Why, I didn’t mean anything. I don’t know what I was going to say, honestly I don’t, it couldn’t have been anything. For goodness’ sake, let’s talk about something else.
what
? Oh, he went to Chicago two weeks ago. Well, it seems to me I’d always heard that there were telephone wires running between here and Chicago, but of course—And you’d think since he’s been back, the least he could do would be to do something. He’s not back yet? He’s not
back
yet? Mona, what are you trying to tell me? Why, just night before last—Said he’d let you know the minute he got home? Of all the rotten, low things I ever heard in my life, this is really the—Mona, dear, please lie down. Please. Why, I didn’t mean anything. I don’t know what I was going to say, honestly I don’t, it couldn’t have been anything. For goodness’ sake, let’s talk about something else.
Let’s see. Oh, you really ought to see Julia Post’s living-room, the way she’s done it now. She has brown walls—not beige, you know, or tan or anything, but brown—and these cream-colored taffeta curtains and—Mona, I tell you I absolutely don’t know what I was going to say, before. It’s gone completely out of my head. So you see how unimportant it must have been. Dear, please just lie quiet and try to relax. Please forget about that man for a few minutes, anyway. No man’s worth getting that worked up about. Catch me doing it! You know you can’t expect to get well quickly, if you get yourself so excited. You know that.
What doctor did you have, darling? Or don’t you want to say? Your own? Your own Doctor Britton? You don’t mean it! Well, I certainly never thought he’d do a thing like—Yes, dear, of course he’s a nerve specialist. Yes, dear. Yes, dear. Yes, dear, of course you have perfect confidence in him. I only wish you would in me, once in a while; after we went to school together and everything. You might know I absolutely sympathize with you. I don’t see how you could possibly have done anything else. I know you’ve always talked about how you’d give anything to have a baby, but it would have been so terribly unfair to the child to bring it into the world without being married. You’d have had to go live abroad and never see anybody and—And even then, somebody would have been sure to have told it sometime. They always do. You did the only possible thing,
I
think. Mona, for heaven’s sake! Don’t scream like that. I’m not deaf, you know. All right, dear, all right, all right, all right. All right, of course I believe you. Naturally I take your word for anything. Anything you say. Only please do try to be quiet. Just lie back and rest, and have a nice talk.
I
think. Mona, for heaven’s sake! Don’t scream like that. I’m not deaf, you know. All right, dear, all right, all right, all right. All right, of course I believe you. Naturally I take your word for anything. Anything you say. Only please do try to be quiet. Just lie back and rest, and have a nice talk.
Ah, now don’t keep harping on that. I’ve told you a hundred times, if I’ve told you once, I wasn’t going to say anything at all. I tell you I don’t remember
what
I was going to say. “Night before last”? When did I mention “night before last”? I never said any such—Well. Maybe it’s better this way, Mona. The more I think of it, the more I think it’s much better for you to hear it from me. Because somebody’s bound to tell you. These things always come out. And I know you’d rather hear it from your oldest friend, wouldn’t you? And the good Lord knows, anything I could do to make you see what that man really is! Only do relax, darling. Just for me. Dear, Garry isn’t in Chicago. Fred and I saw him night before last at the Comet Club, dancing. And Alice saw him Tuesday night at El Rhumba. And I don’t know how many people have said they’ve seen him around at the theater and night clubs and things. Why, he couldn’t have stayed in Chicago more than a day or so—if he went at all.
what
I was going to say. “Night before last”? When did I mention “night before last”? I never said any such—Well. Maybe it’s better this way, Mona. The more I think of it, the more I think it’s much better for you to hear it from me. Because somebody’s bound to tell you. These things always come out. And I know you’d rather hear it from your oldest friend, wouldn’t you? And the good Lord knows, anything I could do to make you see what that man really is! Only do relax, darling. Just for me. Dear, Garry isn’t in Chicago. Fred and I saw him night before last at the Comet Club, dancing. And Alice saw him Tuesday night at El Rhumba. And I don’t know how many people have said they’ve seen him around at the theater and night clubs and things. Why, he couldn’t have stayed in Chicago more than a day or so—if he went at all.
Well, he was with
her
when we saw him, honey. Apparently he’s with her all the time; nobody ever sees him with anyone else. You really must make up your mind to it, dear; it’s the only thing to do. I hear all over that he’s just simply
pleading
with her to marry him, but I don’t know how true that is. I’m sure I can’t see why he’d want to, but then you never can tell what a man like that will do. It would be just good enough
for
him if he got her, that’s what
I
say. Then he’d see. She’d never stand for any of his nonsense. She’d make him toe the mark. She’s a smart woman.
her
when we saw him, honey. Apparently he’s with her all the time; nobody ever sees him with anyone else. You really must make up your mind to it, dear; it’s the only thing to do. I hear all over that he’s just simply
pleading
with her to marry him, but I don’t know how true that is. I’m sure I can’t see why he’d want to, but then you never can tell what a man like that will do. It would be just good enough
for
him if he got her, that’s what
I
say. Then he’d see. She’d never stand for any of his nonsense. She’d make him toe the mark. She’s a smart woman.
But, oh, so
ordinary
. I thought, when we saw them the other night, “Well, she just looks cheap, that’s all she looks.” That must be what he likes, I suppose. I must admit he looked very well. I never saw him look better. Of course you know what I think of him, but I always had to say he’s one of the handsomest men I ever saw in my life. I can understand how any woman would be attracted to him—at first. Until they found out what he’s really like. Oh, if you could have seen him with that awful, common creature, never once taking his eyes off her, and hanging on every word she said, as if it was pearls! It made me just——
ordinary
. I thought, when we saw them the other night, “Well, she just looks cheap, that’s all she looks.” That must be what he likes, I suppose. I must admit he looked very well. I never saw him look better. Of course you know what I think of him, but I always had to say he’s one of the handsomest men I ever saw in my life. I can understand how any woman would be attracted to him—at first. Until they found out what he’s really like. Oh, if you could have seen him with that awful, common creature, never once taking his eyes off her, and hanging on every word she said, as if it was pearls! It made me just——
Mona, angel, are you
crying
? Now, darling, that’s just plain silly. That man’s not worth another thought. You’ve thought about him entirely too much, that’s the trouble. Three years! Three of the best years of your life you’ve given him, and all the time he’s been deceiving you with that woman. Just think back over what you’ve been through—all the times and times and times he promised you he’d give her up; and you, you poor little idiot, you’d believe him, and then he’d go right back to her again. And
everybody
knew about it. Think of that, and then try telling me that man’s worth crying over! Really, Mona! I’d have more pride.
crying
? Now, darling, that’s just plain silly. That man’s not worth another thought. You’ve thought about him entirely too much, that’s the trouble. Three years! Three of the best years of your life you’ve given him, and all the time he’s been deceiving you with that woman. Just think back over what you’ve been through—all the times and times and times he promised you he’d give her up; and you, you poor little idiot, you’d believe him, and then he’d go right back to her again. And
everybody
knew about it. Think of that, and then try telling me that man’s worth crying over! Really, Mona! I’d have more pride.
You know, I’m just glad this thing happened. I’m just glad you found out. This is a little too much, this time. In Chicago, indeed! Let you know the minute he came home! The kindest thing a person could possibly have done was to tell you, and bring you to your senses at last. I’m not sorry I did it, for a second. When I think of him out having the time of his life and you lying here deathly sick all on account of him, I could just—Yes, it is on account of him. Even if you didn’t have an—well, even if I was mistaken about what I naturally thought was the matter with you when you made such a secret of your illness, he’s driven you into a nervous breakdown, and that’s plenty bad enough. All for that man! The skunk! You just put him right out of your head.
Why, of course you can, Mona. All you need to do is to pull yourself together, child. Simply say to yourself, “Well, I’ve wasted three years of my life, and that’s that.” Never worry about
him
any more. The Lord knows, darling, he’s not worrying about you.
him
any more. The Lord knows, darling, he’s not worrying about you.
It’s just because you’re weak and sick that you’re worked up like this, dear. I know. But you’re going to be all right. You can make something of your life. You’ve got to, Mona, you know. Because after all—well, of course, you never looked sweeter, I don’t mean that; but you’re—well, you’re not getting any younger. And here you’ve been throwing away your time, never seeing your friends, never going out, never meeting anybody new, just sitting here waiting for Garry to telephone, or Garry to come in—if he didn’t have anything better to do. For three years, you’ve never had a thought in your head but that man. Now you just forget him.
Ah, baby, it isn’t good for you to cry like that. Please don’t. He’s not even worth talking about. Look at the woman he’s in love with, and you’ll see what kind he is. You were much too good for him. You were much too sweet to him. You gave in too easily. The minute he had you, he didn’t want you any more. That’s what he’s like. Why, he no more loved you than——
Mona, don’t! Mona, stop it! Please, Mona! You mustn’t talk like that, you mustn’t say such things. You’ve got to stop crying, you’ll be terribly sick. Stop, oh, stop it, oh, please stop! Oh, what am I going to do with her? Mona, dear—Mona! Oh, where in heaven’s name is that fool maid?
Edie. Oh, Edie! Edie, I think you’d better get Dr. Britton on the telephone, and tell him to come down and give Miss Morrison something to quiet her. I’m afraid she’s got herself a little bit upset.
Harper’s Bazaar
, April 1932
, April 1932
Dusk Before Fireworks
He was a very good-looking young man indeed, shaped to be annoyed. His voice was intimate as the rustle of sheets, and he kissed easily. There was no tallying the gifts of Charvet handkerchiefs,
art moderne
ash-trays, monogrammed dressing-gowns, gold keychains, and cigarette-cases of thin wood, inlaid with views of Parisian comfort stations, that were sent him by ladies too quickly confident, and were paid for with the money of unwitting husbands, which is acceptable any place in the world. Every woman who visited his small, square apartment promptly flamed with the desire to assume charge of its redecoration. During his tenancy, three separate ladies had achieved this ambition. Each had left behind her, for her brief monument, much too much glazed chintz.
art moderne
ash-trays, monogrammed dressing-gowns, gold keychains, and cigarette-cases of thin wood, inlaid with views of Parisian comfort stations, that were sent him by ladies too quickly confident, and were paid for with the money of unwitting husbands, which is acceptable any place in the world. Every woman who visited his small, square apartment promptly flamed with the desire to assume charge of its redecoration. During his tenancy, three separate ladies had achieved this ambition. Each had left behind her, for her brief monument, much too much glazed chintz.
The glare of the latest upholstery was dulled, now, in an April dusk. There was a soft blur of mauve and gray over chairs and curtains, instead of the daytime pattern of heroic-sized double poppies and small, sad elephants. (The most recent of the volunteer decorators was a lady who added interest to her ways by collecting all varieties of elephants save those alive or stuffed; her selection of the chintz had been made less for the cause of contemporary design than in the hope of keeping ever present the wistful souvenirs of her hobby and, hence, of herself. Unhappily, the poppies, those flowers for forgetfulness, turned out to be predominant in the pattern.)
The very good-looking young man was stretched in a chair that was legless and short in back. It was a strain to see in that chair any virtue save the speeding one of modernity. Certainly it was a peril to all who dealt with it; they were far from their best within its arms, and they could never have wished to be remembered as they appeared while easing into its depths or struggling out again. All, that is, save the young man. He was a long young man, broad at the shoulders and chest and narrow everywhere else, and his muscles obeyed him at the exact instant of command. He rose and lay, he moved and was still, always in beauty. Several men disliked him, but only one woman really hated him. She was his sister. She was stump-shaped, and she had straight hair.
On the sofa opposite the difficult chair there sat a young woman, slight and softly dressed. There was no more to her frock than some dull, dark silk and a little chiffon, but the recurrent bill for it demanded, in bitter black and white, a sum well on toward the second hundred. Once the very good-looking young man had said that he liked women in quiet and conservative clothes, carefully made. The young woman was of those unfortunates who remember every word. This made living peculiarly trying for her when it was later demonstrated that the young man was also partial to ladies given to garments of slap-dash cut, and color like the sound of big brass instruments.
The young woman was temperately pretty in the eyes of most be-holders; but there were a few, mainly hand-to-mouth people, artists and such, who could not look enough at her. Half a year before, she had been sweeter to see. Now there was tension about her mouth and unease along her brow, and her eyes looked wearied and troubled. The gentle dusk became her. The young man who shared it with her could not see these things.
She stretched her arms and laced her fingers high above her head.
“Oh, this is nice,” she said. “It’s nice being here.”
“It’s nice and peaceful,” he said. “Oh, Lord. Why can’t people just be peaceful? That’s little enough to ask, isn’t it? Why does there have to be so much hell, all the time?”
She dropped her hands to her lap.
“There doesn’t have to be at all,” she said. She had a quiet voice, and she said her words with every courtesy to each of them, as if she respected language. “There’s never any need for hell.”
“There’s an awful lot of it around, sweet,” he said.
“There certainly is,” she said. “There’s just as much hell as there are hundreds of little shrill, unnecessary people. It’s the second-raters that stir up hell; first-rate people wouldn’t. You need never have another bit of it in your beautiful life if—if you’ll pardon my pointing—you could just manage to steel yourself against that band of spitting hell-cats that is included in your somewhat overcrowded acquaintance, my lamb. Ah, but I mean it, Hobie, dear. I’ve been wanting to tell you for so long. But it’s so rotten hard to say. If I say it, it makes me sound just like one of them—makes me seem inexpensive and jealous. Surely, you know, after all this time, I’m not like that. It’s just that I worry so about you. You’re so fine, you’re so lovely, it nearly kills me to see you just eaten up by a lot of things like Margot Wadsworth and Mrs. Holt and Evie Maynard and those. You’re so much better than that. You know that’s why I’m saying it. You know I haven’t got a stitch of jealousy in me. Jealous! Good heavens, if I were going to be jealous, I’d be it about someone worth while, and not about any silly, stupid, idle, worthless, selfish, hysterical, vulgar, promiscuous, sex-ridden——”
“Darling!” he said.
“Well, I’m sorry,” she said. “I guess I’m sorry. I didn’t really mean to go into the subject of certain of your friends. Maybe the way they behave isn’t their fault, said she, lying in her teeth. After all, you can’t expect them to know what it’s about. Poor things, they’ll never know how sweet it can be, how lovely it always is when we’re alone together. It is, isn’t it? Ah, Hobie, isn’t it?”
The young man raised his slow lids and looked at her. He smiled with one end of his beautiful curly mouth.
“Uh-huh,” he said.
He took his eyes from hers and became busy with an ash-tray and a spent cigarette. But he still smiled.
“Ah, don’t,” she said. “You promised you’d forget about—about last Wednesday. You said you’d never remember it again. Oh, whatever made me do it! Making scenes. Having tantrums. Rushing out into the night. And then coming crawling back. Me, that wanted to show you how different a woman could be! Oh, please, please don’t let’s think about it. Only tell me I wasn’t as terrible as I know I was.”
Other books
Heaven by Ian Stewart
Only His by Susan Mallery
Power of Attorney by N.M. Silber
College Discipline by Kim Acton
The Last City by Nina D'Aleo
The Groom's Revenge by Susan Crosby
Ellis Island & Other Stories by Mark Helprin
A Line of Blood by McPherson, Ben
Manhattan Lockdown by Paul Batista
Oral Exam by Rae, Tessa