Melanie got back a little after 3.
‘Had a marvelous time,’ Melanie said. ‘I was really squired around in fine style. But now I’m ready for my post-prandial nap.’
‘I’m very pleased.’ She had the feeling Melanie wanted to talk to her, but perhaps not now, and maybe Melanie really was tired. At any rate, Melanie went upstairs.
That evening, the Johnsons were coming to dinner, though not with either of their teen-aged kids. Derek had been drafted, much to Gert’s and Norm’s fury, a few months after he had graduated from Penn State, and had been in Viet Nam now more than six months. Edith started organizing her dinner. Melanie knew the Johnsons quite well by now, and they had got on from the start. Edith looked forward to a happy evening.
And it did go well. Edith had rung Gert up that morning to tell her about Mildew, so the only talk of that was a word of sympathy from them both when they arrived. They talked about Viet Nam. It had become a din in Edith’s ears, or a drone, a record repeated, and yet she knew it was important, because it seemed that the Pentagon, which Edith considered a war-making and war-loving machine, had greater influence than Congress on the President.
We are reaping the fruit
,
Edith thought,
of blind anti-Communist, anti-social brainwashing
.
But since she had said it before, and would be preaching to the converted anyway, she said next to nothing.
‘You’re so lucky, playing it like a clown, Cliffie ol’ boy,’ Gert said in her slightly rowdy way. Gert loved her drink and had had three generous ryes before dinner.
Cliffie didn’t rise to the remark, but looked a bit affronted, and glanced at Melanie to see how she was taking it.
Melanie let it pass, having heard about Cliffie’s interview with the military examiner in Harrisburg.
‘Our boy Derek’s in Viet Nam,’ Norm explained to Melanie. ‘We tried to get him into the Navy instead of the Army, because – you serve four year-rs in the Navy instead of two in the Army, but at least the Navy’s safer.’
‘People say, thank goodness Derek isn’t wounded yet,’ Gert added, leaning forward over her fruit plate on which she was eating tangerines, ‘but they’re not wounded there so often as they’re just blown up by – by —’
‘Booby traps,’ Norm said. ‘Oh, honey, talking won’t do any good. – He’s got a year more. Well, a little more than a year,’ Norman informed Melanie.
Gert smiled and shook her head. ‘And there’s old clever Cliffie —’
‘Oh, Gertie,’ Norm said. ‘Come on!’
Late that night, when Edith and Melanie were stacking dishes in the kitchen, putting things away in the larder and fridge, Melanie said:
‘Cliffie invited me to lunch today, insisted on paying. I thought that was really sweet of him.’
Had Melanie said it to make her feel better after the remarks at dinner? Was it true? But Edith knew it was true, if Melanie said it. ‘It does surprise me,’ Edith said.
Cliffie’s transistor was on, playing pop music on the other side of the kitchen, music interspersed by voices now and then, interviews with pop stars. Sometimes Cliffie fell asleep with his radio on.
‘Has he got a girl friend now?’ Melanie asked.
‘We wish he had,’ Edith said. ‘It might pull him together.’
‘He’s quite a good-looking boy. He’s just not interested?’
‘Oh-h,’ Edith began, ‘he hangs around a couple of successful boys here. Successful with the girls, I mean. In the bar called Mickey’s – up Main Street. But it doesn’t mean their girls go for Cliffie.’ It sounded as if the other boys had harems, which was perhaps true, Edith thought. ‘Yes, well.’ Edith turned, smiling, from the sink, and dropped a squeezed out sponge on the drainboard. ‘God knows Brett and I would make his girl friends welcome, but he doesn’t bring any home. I don’t think he sees them anywhere else, or they’d be telephoning – or he would.’
9
Cliffie just then had an ear
‘Had a marvelous time,’ Melanie said. ‘I was really squired around in fine style. But now I’m ready for my post-prandial nap.’
‘I’m very pleased.’ She had the feeling Melanie wanted to talk to her, but perhaps not now, and maybe Melanie really was tired. At any rate, Melanie went upstairs.
That evening, the Johnsons were coming to dinner, though not with either of their teen-aged kids. Derek had been drafted, much to Gert’s and Norm’s fury, a few months after he had graduated from Penn State, and had been in Viet Nam now more than six months. Edith started organizing her dinner. Melanie knew the Johnsons quite well by now, and they had got on from the start. Edith looked forward to a happy evening.
And it did go well. Edith had rung Gert up that morning to tell her about Mildew, so the only talk of that was a word of sympathy from them both when they arrived. They talked about Viet Nam. It had become a din in Edith’s ears, or a drone, a record repeated, and yet she knew it was important, because it seemed that the Pentagon, which Edith considered a war-making and war-loving machine, had greater influence than Congress on the President.
We are reaping the fruit
,
Edith thought,
of blind anti-Communist, anti-social brainwashing
.
But since she had said it before, and would be preaching to the converted anyway, she said next to nothing.
‘You’re so lucky, playing it like a clown, Cliffie ol’ boy,’ Gert said in her slightly rowdy way. Gert loved her drink and had had three generous ryes before dinner.
Cliffie didn’t rise to the remark, but looked a bit affronted, and glanced at Melanie to see how she was taking it.
Melanie let it pass, having heard about Cliffie’s interview with the military examiner in Harrisburg.
‘Our boy Derek’s in Viet Nam,’ Norm explained to Melanie. ‘We tried to get him into the Navy instead of the Army, because – you serve four year-rs in the Navy instead of two in the Army, but at least the Navy’s safer.’
‘People say, thank goodness Derek isn’t wounded yet,’ Gert added, leaning forward over her fruit plate on which she was eating tangerines, ‘but they’re not wounded there so often as they’re just blown up by – by —’
‘Booby traps,’ Norm said. ‘Oh, honey, talking won’t do any good. – He’s got a year more. Well, a little more than a year,’ Norman informed Melanie.
Gert smiled and shook her head. ‘And there’s old clever Cliffie —’
‘Oh, Gertie,’ Norm said. ‘Come on!’
Late that night, when Edith and Melanie were stacking dishes in the kitchen, putting things away in the larder and fridge, Melanie said:
‘Cliffie invited me to lunch today, insisted on paying. I thought that was really sweet of him.’
Had Melanie said it to make her feel better after the remarks at dinner? Was it true? But Edith knew it was true, if Melanie said it. ‘It does surprise me,’ Edith said.
Cliffie’s transistor was on, playing pop music on the other side of the kitchen, music interspersed by voices now and then, interviews with pop stars. Sometimes Cliffie fell asleep with his radio on.
‘Has he got a girl friend now?’ Melanie asked.
‘We wish he had,’ Edith said. ‘It might pull him together.’
‘He’s quite a good-looking boy. He’s just not interested?’
‘Oh-h,’ Edith began, ‘he hangs around a couple of successful boys here. Successful with the girls, I mean. In the bar called Mickey’s – up Main Street. But it doesn’t mean their girls go for Cliffie.’ It sounded as if the other boys had harems, which was perhaps true, Edith thought. ‘Yes, well.’ Edith turned, smiling, from the sink, and dropped a squeezed out sponge on the drainboard. ‘God knows Brett and I would make his girl friends welcome, but he doesn’t bring any home. I don’t think he sees them anywhere else, or they’d be telephoning – or he would.’
9
Cliffie just then had an ear
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