Complete Stories (43 page)
Authors: Dorothy Parker,Colleen Bresse,Regina Barreca
“Oh, hello,” he said to her. He looked back at this paper, and kept his eyes there. “What did you do? Did you drop up to Hank Noyes’s?”
Little Mrs. Murdock stopped right where she was.
“You know perfectly well, Jim,” she said, “that Hallie Noyes’s first name is Hallie.”
“It’s Hank to me,” he said. “Hank or Bill. Did what’s-her-name show up? I mean drop up. Pardon me.”
“To whom are you referring?” said Mrs. Murdock, perfectly.
“What’s-her-name,” Mr. Murdock said. “The movie star.”
“If you mean Lily Wynton,” Mrs. Murdock said, “she is not a movie star. She is an actress. She is a great actress.”
“Well, did she drop up?” he said.
Mrs. Murdock’s shoulders sagged. “Yes,” she said. “Yes, she was there, Jim.”
“I suppose you’re going on the stage now,” he said.
“Ah, Jim,” Mrs. Murdock said. “Ah, Jim, please. I’m not sorry at all I went to Hallie Noyes’s today. It was—it was a real experience to meet Lily Wynton. Something I’ll remember all my life.”
“What did she do?” Mr. Murdock said. “Hang by her feet?”
“She did no such thing!” Mrs. Murdock said. “She recited Shakespeare, if you want to know.”
“Oh, my God,” Mr. Murdock said. “That must have been great.”
“All right, Jim,” Mrs. Murdock said. “If that’s the way you want to be.”
Wearily she left the room and went down the hall. She stopped at the pantry door, pushed it open, and spoke to the pleasant little maid.
“Oh, Signe,” she said. “Oh, good evening, Signe. Put these things somewhere, will you? I got them on the way home. I thought we might have them some time.”
Wearily little Mrs. Murdock went on down the hall to her bedroom.
Harper’s Bazaar,
September 1933
September 1933
Cousin Larry
The young woman in the crepe de Chine dress printed all over with little pagodas set amid giant cornflowers flung one knee atop the other and surveyed, with an enviable contentment, the tip of her scrolled green sandal. Then, in a like happy calm, she inspected her finger nails of so thick and glistening a red that it seemed as if she but recently had completed tearing an ox apart with her naked hands. Then she dropped her chin abruptly to her chest and busied herself among the man-made curls, sharp and dry as shavings, along the back of her neck; and again she appeared to be wrapped in cozy satisfaction. Then she lighted a fresh cigarette and seemed to find it, like all about her, good. Then she went right on with all she had been saying before.
“No, but really,” she said. “Honestly. I get so darn sick of all this talk about Lila—‘Oh, poor Lila’ this, and ‘Oh, the poor thing’ that. If they want to be sorry for her—well, it’s a free country, I suppose, but all I can say is I think they’re crazy. I think they’re absolutely cock-eyed wild. If they want to be sorry for anybody, go be sorry for Cousin Larry, why don’t they? Then they’d be making some sense, for a change. Listen, nobody has to be sorry for Lila. She has a marvelous time; she never does one solitary thing she doesn’t want to do. She has the best time of anybody I know. And anyway, it’s all her own fault, anyway. It’s just the way she is; it’s her rotten, vile disposition. Well, you can’t be expected to feel sorry for anybody when it’s their own fault, can you? Does that make any sense? Now I ask you!
“Listen. I know Lila. I’ve known her for years. I’ve seen her practically day in, day out. Well, you know how often I’ve visited them, down in the country. You know how well you know a person after you’ve visited them; well, that’s the way I know Lila. And I like her. Honestly I do. I like Lila all right when she’s decent. It’s only when she starts feeling sorry for herself and begins whining and asking questions and spoiling everybody’s fun that she makes me throw up. A lot of the time she’s perfectly all right. Only she’s selfish, that’s all. She’s just a rotten, selfish woman. And then the way people talk about Larry for staying in town and going around places without her! Listen to me, she stays home because she wants to. She’d
rather
go to bed early. I’ve seen her do it night after night, when I’ve been down there visiting. I know her like a book. Catch
that
one doing anything she doesn’t feel like doing!
rather
go to bed early. I’ve seen her do it night after night, when I’ve been down there visiting. I know her like a book. Catch
that
one doing anything she doesn’t feel like doing!
“Honestly. It just makes me boil to hear anyone say anything against Larry. Just let them try criticizing him to me, that’s all. Why, that man’s a living saint, that’s what he is. How on earth he’s got anything at all left, after ten years with that woman, I
don’t
see. She can’t let him alone a second; always wants to be in on everything, always wants to know what’s the joke and what’s he laughing about, and oh, tell her, tell her, so she can laugh too. And she’s one of those damn serious old fools that can’t see anything funny, and can’t kid or anything, and then she tries to get cute and play, too, and—well, you just can’t
look,
that’s all. And poor Larry, who couldn’t be funnier or have more of a sense of humor and all. I should think she’d have driven him cock-eyed wild, years ago.
don’t
see. She can’t let him alone a second; always wants to be in on everything, always wants to know what’s the joke and what’s he laughing about, and oh, tell her, tell her, so she can laugh too. And she’s one of those damn serious old fools that can’t see anything funny, and can’t kid or anything, and then she tries to get cute and play, too, and—well, you just can’t
look,
that’s all. And poor Larry, who couldn’t be funnier or have more of a sense of humor and all. I should think she’d have driven him cock-eyed wild, years ago.
“And then when she sees the poor soul having a little bit of fun with anybody for a few minutes, she gets—well, she doesn’t get jealous, she’s too self-centered ever to have a jealous moment—she’s so rotten suspicious, she’s got such a vile, dirty mind, she just gets mean. And to me, of all people. Now I ask you! Me, that’s known Larry practically all my life, practically. Why, I’ve called him Cousin Larry for years—that shows you how I’ve always felt about him. And the very first time I went down there to stay with them, she started in about why did I call him Cousin Larry, and I said, oh, I’d known him so well, I felt sort of related, and then she got kittenish, the old fool, and said, well, I’d have to take her into the family, too, and I said, yes, that would be great, or something. And I
did
try to call her Aunt Lila, but I just simply couldn’t seem to
feel
that way. And it didn’t seem to make her any happier, anyway. Well, she’s just one of those kind she’s never happy unless she’s miserable. She
enjoys
being miserable. That’s why she does it. Catch her doing anything she doesn’t want to do!
did
try to call her Aunt Lila, but I just simply couldn’t seem to
feel
that way. And it didn’t seem to make her any happier, anyway. Well, she’s just one of those kind she’s never happy unless she’s miserable. She
enjoys
being miserable. That’s why she does it. Catch her doing anything she doesn’t want to do!
“Honestly. Poor Cousin Larry. Imagine that dirty old thing trying to work up something, because I call him Cousin Larry. Well, I certainly didn’t let her stop me; I guess my friendship with Larry is worth a little more than
that.
And he calls me Little Sweetheart, too, just the way he always did. He’s always called me his little sweetheart. Wouldn’t you think she could see, if there was anything in it, he wouldn’t call me that right in front of her face all the time?
that.
And he calls me Little Sweetheart, too, just the way he always did. He’s always called me his little sweetheart. Wouldn’t you think she could see, if there was anything in it, he wouldn’t call me that right in front of her face all the time?
“Really. It isn’t that she means anything in my young life, it’s just that I feel so terribly sorry for Larry. I wouldn’t set foot in the house again if it wasn’t for him. But he says—of course, he’s never said one single word against her, he’s the kind would always be just like a clam about any woman that happened to be his wife—he says nobody has any idea of what it’s like to be there alone with Lila. So that’s why I went down in the first place. And I saw what he meant. Why, the first night I was in the house, she went up to bed at ten o’clock. Cousin Larry and I were playing some old phonograph records—well, we had to do
something,
she wouldn’t laugh or kid or do anything we were doing, just sat there like an old stick—and it just happened I happened to find a lot of old songs Larry and I used to sing and go dancing to, and everything. Well, you know how it is when you know a man awfully well, you always have things that remind you of things, and we were laughing and playing these records and sort of saying, ‘Do you remember the time?’ and ‘What does that remind you of?’ and all, the way everybody does; and the first thing you know, Lila got up and said she was sure we wouldn’t mind if she went to bed—she felt so awfully tired. And Larry told me then, that’s what she always does when anybody around is having a good time. If there’s a guest in the house when she feels so awfully tired, that’s just too bad, that’s all. A little thing like that doesn’t put
that
one out. When she wants to go to bed, she
goes.
something,
she wouldn’t laugh or kid or do anything we were doing, just sat there like an old stick—and it just happened I happened to find a lot of old songs Larry and I used to sing and go dancing to, and everything. Well, you know how it is when you know a man awfully well, you always have things that remind you of things, and we were laughing and playing these records and sort of saying, ‘Do you remember the time?’ and ‘What does that remind you of?’ and all, the way everybody does; and the first thing you know, Lila got up and said she was sure we wouldn’t mind if she went to bed—she felt so awfully tired. And Larry told me then, that’s what she always does when anybody around is having a good time. If there’s a guest in the house when she feels so awfully tired, that’s just too bad, that’s all. A little thing like that doesn’t put
that
one out. When she wants to go to bed, she
goes.
“So that’s why I’ve gone down there so much. You don’t know what a real godsend it is for Larry to have someone he can sit up with, after dear Lila goes to bed at ten o’clock. And then I’m somebody the poor soul can play golf with in the daytime, too; Lila can’t play—oh, she’s got something wrong with her insides,
wouldn’t
she have? I wouldn’t go near the place if it wasn’t such a help to Larry. You know how crazy he is about having a good time. And Lila’s
old—
she’s an
owe-wuld
woman! Honestly. Larry—well, of course it doesn’t make any difference how old a man is, anyway—years, I mean; it’s the way he feels that counts. And Larry’s just like a kid. I keep telling Lila, trying to clean up her nasty, evil mind, that Cousin Larry and I are nothing but a couple of crazy kids together. Now I ask you, wouldn’t you think she’d have sense enough to see she’s all through and the only thing for her to do is to sit back and let people have a good time that
can
?
She
had a good time; going to bed early, that’s what she likes. Nobody interferes with her—wouldn’t you think she’d mind her own business and stop asking questions and wanting to know what everything’s about?
wouldn’t
she have? I wouldn’t go near the place if it wasn’t such a help to Larry. You know how crazy he is about having a good time. And Lila’s
old—
she’s an
owe-wuld
woman! Honestly. Larry—well, of course it doesn’t make any difference how old a man is, anyway—years, I mean; it’s the way he feels that counts. And Larry’s just like a kid. I keep telling Lila, trying to clean up her nasty, evil mind, that Cousin Larry and I are nothing but a couple of crazy kids together. Now I ask you, wouldn’t you think she’d have sense enough to see she’s all through and the only thing for her to do is to sit back and let people have a good time that
can
?
She
had a good time; going to bed early, that’s what she likes. Nobody interferes with her—wouldn’t you think she’d mind her own business and stop asking questions and wanting to know what everything’s about?
“Well, now look. Once I was down there, and I happened to be wearing orchids. And so Lila said oh, weren’t they lovely and all, and who sent them to me. Honestly. She
deliberately
asked me who sent them to me. So I thought, well, it will just do you good, and I told her Cousin Larry did. I told her it was a sort of a little anniversary of ours—you know how it is, when you know a man a long time, you always have sort of little anniversaries, like the first time he ever took you to lunch, or the first time he sent you flowers or something. So anyway, this was one of those, and I told Lila what a wonderful friend Cousin Larry was to me, and how he always remembered things like that, and how much fun it was for him to do them, he seemed to get such pleasure out of doing sweet things. Now I ask you. Wouldn’t you think anybody in the
world
would see how innocent it was if you told them that? And do you know what she said? Honestly. She said, ‘I like orchids, too.’ So I just thought, well, maybe if you were fifteen years younger you might get some man to send you some, baby, but I didn’t say a thing. I just said, ‘Oh, wear these, Lila, won’t you?’ Just like that; and Lord knows, I didn’t
have
to say it, did I? But oh, no, she wouldn’t. No, she thought she’d just go and lie down a while, if I didn’t mind. She was feeling so awfully tired.
deliberately
asked me who sent them to me. So I thought, well, it will just do you good, and I told her Cousin Larry did. I told her it was a sort of a little anniversary of ours—you know how it is, when you know a man a long time, you always have sort of little anniversaries, like the first time he ever took you to lunch, or the first time he sent you flowers or something. So anyway, this was one of those, and I told Lila what a wonderful friend Cousin Larry was to me, and how he always remembered things like that, and how much fun it was for him to do them, he seemed to get such pleasure out of doing sweet things. Now I ask you. Wouldn’t you think anybody in the
world
would see how innocent it was if you told them that? And do you know what she said? Honestly. She said, ‘I like orchids, too.’ So I just thought, well, maybe if you were fifteen years younger you might get some man to send you some, baby, but I didn’t say a thing. I just said, ‘Oh, wear these, Lila, won’t you?’ Just like that; and Lord knows, I didn’t
have
to say it, did I? But oh, no, she wouldn’t. No, she thought she’d just go and lie down a while, if I didn’t mind. She was feeling so awfully tired.
“And then—oh, my dear, I nearly forgot to tell you. You’ll simply die over this, you’ll absolutely collapse. Well, the last time I was there, Cousin Larry had sent me some little chiffon drawers; they couldn’t have been cuter. You know, it was just a joke, these little pink chiffon things with
‘Mais l’amour viendra’
embroidered on them in black. It means ‘Love will come.’ You know. He saw them in some window and he just sent them to me, just for this joke. He’s always doing things like—hey, for goodness’ sake, don’t tell anyone, will you? Because, Lord knows if it
meant
anything, I wouldn’t be telling you, you
know
that, but you know how people are. And there’s been enough talk, just because I go out with him sometimes, to keep the poor soul company while Lila’s in bed.
‘Mais l’amour viendra’
embroidered on them in black. It means ‘Love will come.’ You know. He saw them in some window and he just sent them to me, just for this joke. He’s always doing things like—hey, for goodness’ sake, don’t tell anyone, will you? Because, Lord knows if it
meant
anything, I wouldn’t be telling you, you
know
that, but you know how people are. And there’s been enough talk, just because I go out with him sometimes, to keep the poor soul company while Lila’s in bed.
“Well, so anyway, he sent me these things, and so when I came down to dinner—there were just the three of us; that’s another thing she does, she doesn’t have anybody in unless he absolutely insists—I said to Larry, ‘I’ve got them on, Cousin Larry.’ So of course Lila had to hear and she said, ‘What have you got on?’ and she kept asking and asking, and naturally I wasn’t going to tell
her,
and it just struck me so funny I nearly died trying not to laugh and every time I caught Larry’s eye we’d both bust right out. And Lila kept saying oh, what was the joke, and oh, tell her, tell her. And so finally, when she saw we wouldn’t tell, she had to go to bed, no matter how it made
us
feel. My God, can’t people have jokes? This is a free country, isn’t it?
her,
and it just struck me so funny I nearly died trying not to laugh and every time I caught Larry’s eye we’d both bust right out. And Lila kept saying oh, what was the joke, and oh, tell her, tell her. And so finally, when she saw we wouldn’t tell, she had to go to bed, no matter how it made
us
feel. My God, can’t people have jokes? This is a free country, isn’t it?
“Honestly. And she’s getting worse and worse all the time. I’m simply
sick
about Larry. I can’t see what he’s ever going to do. You know a woman like that wouldn’t give a man a divorce in a million years, even if he was the one that had the money. Larry never says a word, but I bet there are times when he just wishes she’d
die.
And everybody saying ‘Oh, poor Lila,’ ‘Oh, poor, dear Lila, isn’t it a shame?’ That’s because she gets them off in corners, and starts sobbing about not having any children. Oh, how she wishes she had a baby. Oh, if she and Larry only had a baby, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah. And then the eyes filling with tears—you know, you’ve seen her do it. Eyes filling with tears! A lot she’s got to cry about, always doing what she wants all the time. I bet that’s just a line, about not having a baby. That’s just to get sympathy. She’s just so rotten selfish she wouldn’t have ever given up her own convenience to have one, that’s what’s the matter with her. She might have had to stay up after ten o’clock.
sick
about Larry. I can’t see what he’s ever going to do. You know a woman like that wouldn’t give a man a divorce in a million years, even if he was the one that had the money. Larry never says a word, but I bet there are times when he just wishes she’d
die.
And everybody saying ‘Oh, poor Lila,’ ‘Oh, poor, dear Lila, isn’t it a shame?’ That’s because she gets them off in corners, and starts sobbing about not having any children. Oh, how she wishes she had a baby. Oh, if she and Larry only had a baby, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah. And then the eyes filling with tears—you know, you’ve seen her do it. Eyes filling with tears! A lot she’s got to cry about, always doing what she wants all the time. I bet that’s just a line, about not having a baby. That’s just to get sympathy. She’s just so rotten selfish she wouldn’t have ever given up her own convenience to have one, that’s what’s the matter with her. She might have had to stay up after ten o’clock.
“Poor Lila! Honestly, I could lose my lunch. Why don’t they say poor Larry, for a change? He’s the one to feel sorry for. Well. All
I
know is, I’ll always do anything I can for Cousin Larry. That’s all
I
know.”
I
know is, I’ll always do anything I can for Cousin Larry. That’s all
I
know.”
The young woman in the printed crepe de Chine dress removed her dead cigarette from its pasteboard holder and seemed, as she did so, to find increased enjoyment in the familiar sight of her rich-hued finger nails. Then she took from her lap a case of gold or some substance near it, and in a minute mirror scanned her face as carefully as if it were verse. She knit her brows, she drew her upper eyelids nearly to those below them, she turned her head as one expressing regretful negation, she moved her mouth laterally in the manner of a semi-tropical fish; and when all this was done, she seemed even cooler in confidence of well-being. Then she lighted a fresh cigarette and appeared to find that, too, impeccable. Then she went right on over all she had been saying before.
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