salesman.”
“I think you know him better than I knew Harge after months of marriage.
At least you’re not going to make the same mistake I did, to marry because it was the thing to do when you were about twenty, among the people I knew.”
“You mean you weren’t in love?”
“Yes, I was, very much. And so was Harge. And he was the kind of man who could wrap your life up in a week and put it in his pocket. Were you ever in love, Therese?”
She waited, until the word from nowhere, false, guilty, moved her lips, “No.”
“But you’d like to be.” Carol was smiling.
“Is Harge still in love with you?”
Carol looked down at her lap, impatiently, and perhaps she was shocked at her bluntness, Therese thought, but when Carol spoke, her voice was the same as before, “Even I don’t know. In a way, he’s the same emotionally as he’s always been. It’s just that now I can see how he really is. He said I was the first woman he’d ever been in love with. I think it’s true, but I don’t think he was in love with me—in the usual sense of the word—for more than a few months. He’s never been interested in anyone else, it’s true. Maybe he’d be more human if he were. That I could understand and forgive.”
“Does he like Rindy?”
“Dotes on her.” Carol glanced at her smiling. “If he’s in love with anyone, it’s Rindy.”
“What kind of a name is that?”
“Nerinda. Harge named her. He wanted a son, but I think he’s even more pleased with a daughter. I wanted a girl. I wanted two or three children.”
“And—Harge didn’t?”
“I didn’t.” She looked at Therese again. “Is this the right conversation for Christmas Eve?” Carol reached for a cigarette, and, accepted the one Therese offered her, a Philip Morris.
“I like to know all about you,” Therese said.
“I didn’t want any more children, because I was afraid our marriage was going on the rocks anyway, even with Rindy. So you want to fall in love?
You probably will soon, and if you do, enjoy it, it’s harder later on.”
“To love someone?”
“To fall in love. Or even to have the desire to make love. I think sex flows more sluggishly in all of us than we care to believe, especially men care to believe. The first adventures are usually nothing but a satisfying of curiosity, and after that one keeps repeating the same actions, trying to find—what?”
“What?” Therese asked.
“Is there a word? A friend, a companion, or maybe just a sharer. What good are words? I mean, I think people often try to find through sex, things that are much easier to find in other ways.”
What Carol said about curiosity, she knew was true. “What other ways?” she asked.
Carol gave her a glance. “I think that’s for each person to find out. I wonder if I can get a drink here.”
But the restaurant served only beer and wine, so they left.
Carol did not stop anywhere for her drink as they drove back toward New York. Carol asked her if she wanted to go home or come out to her house for a while, and Therese said to Carol’s house. She remembered the Kellys had asked her to drop in on the wine and fruitcake party they were having tonight, and she had promised to, but they wouldn’t miss her, she thought.
“What a rotten time I give you,” Carol said suddenly. “Sunday and now this. I’m not the best company this evening. What would you like to do?
Would you like to go to a restaurant in Newark where they have lights and Christmas music tonight? It’s not a night club. We could have a decent dinner there, too.”
“I really don’t care about going anywhere—for myself.”
“You’ve been in that rotten store all day, and we haven’t done a thing to celebrate your liberation.”
“I just like to be here with you,” Therese said, and hearing the explanatory tone in her voice, she smiled.
Carol shook her head, not looking at her. “Child, child, where do you wander—all by yourself?”
Then a moment
“I think you know him better than I knew Harge after months of marriage.
At least you’re not going to make the same mistake I did, to marry because it was the thing to do when you were about twenty, among the people I knew.”
“You mean you weren’t in love?”
“Yes, I was, very much. And so was Harge. And he was the kind of man who could wrap your life up in a week and put it in his pocket. Were you ever in love, Therese?”
She waited, until the word from nowhere, false, guilty, moved her lips, “No.”
“But you’d like to be.” Carol was smiling.
“Is Harge still in love with you?”
Carol looked down at her lap, impatiently, and perhaps she was shocked at her bluntness, Therese thought, but when Carol spoke, her voice was the same as before, “Even I don’t know. In a way, he’s the same emotionally as he’s always been. It’s just that now I can see how he really is. He said I was the first woman he’d ever been in love with. I think it’s true, but I don’t think he was in love with me—in the usual sense of the word—for more than a few months. He’s never been interested in anyone else, it’s true. Maybe he’d be more human if he were. That I could understand and forgive.”
“Does he like Rindy?”
“Dotes on her.” Carol glanced at her smiling. “If he’s in love with anyone, it’s Rindy.”
“What kind of a name is that?”
“Nerinda. Harge named her. He wanted a son, but I think he’s even more pleased with a daughter. I wanted a girl. I wanted two or three children.”
“And—Harge didn’t?”
“I didn’t.” She looked at Therese again. “Is this the right conversation for Christmas Eve?” Carol reached for a cigarette, and, accepted the one Therese offered her, a Philip Morris.
“I like to know all about you,” Therese said.
“I didn’t want any more children, because I was afraid our marriage was going on the rocks anyway, even with Rindy. So you want to fall in love?
You probably will soon, and if you do, enjoy it, it’s harder later on.”
“To love someone?”
“To fall in love. Or even to have the desire to make love. I think sex flows more sluggishly in all of us than we care to believe, especially men care to believe. The first adventures are usually nothing but a satisfying of curiosity, and after that one keeps repeating the same actions, trying to find—what?”
“What?” Therese asked.
“Is there a word? A friend, a companion, or maybe just a sharer. What good are words? I mean, I think people often try to find through sex, things that are much easier to find in other ways.”
What Carol said about curiosity, she knew was true. “What other ways?” she asked.
Carol gave her a glance. “I think that’s for each person to find out. I wonder if I can get a drink here.”
But the restaurant served only beer and wine, so they left.
Carol did not stop anywhere for her drink as they drove back toward New York. Carol asked her if she wanted to go home or come out to her house for a while, and Therese said to Carol’s house. She remembered the Kellys had asked her to drop in on the wine and fruitcake party they were having tonight, and she had promised to, but they wouldn’t miss her, she thought.
“What a rotten time I give you,” Carol said suddenly. “Sunday and now this. I’m not the best company this evening. What would you like to do?
Would you like to go to a restaurant in Newark where they have lights and Christmas music tonight? It’s not a night club. We could have a decent dinner there, too.”
“I really don’t care about going anywhere—for myself.”
“You’ve been in that rotten store all day, and we haven’t done a thing to celebrate your liberation.”
“I just like to be here with you,” Therese said, and hearing the explanatory tone in her voice, she smiled.
Carol shook her head, not looking at her. “Child, child, where do you wander—all by yourself?”
Then a moment
Similar Books
