cemetery.
The door opened and closed.
I smelled Joan's perfume. She sat down on the couch with me. She often watched my old movies with me; Shirley, never.
"ShaUIstop?"
"No. This is my favorite film." She felt for my hand and held it in her cool narrow hand. She moved closer and leaned against me; this woman I had once loved so much, whom I loved no longer.
"You're sure I'm not disturbing you, Peter?" She was especially considerate, especially loving, since she sadly watched our marriage deteriorate.
"Positive, Joan." I was considerate too.
"My plane does not leave for another three hours." I did not like the yellow dress she was wearing; it made her look older than she really was, simply because it was too youthful for her. Shirley could have worn it. But who could say that to a woman?
"I'll take you to the airport," I said. Joan had to go to New York for her aunt's funeral. An aunt who had left i her a lot of money. Joan was forever inheriting. I could not accompany her. Herbert Kostasch, the producer froni Hamburg, had sent a telegram which said, "... have sensational offer. Come Back practically certain." I was expecting him the following day.
Joan and I were sitting there, hand in hand. She probably thought how, since she loved me, she could save our marriage. I thought about how much I loved Shirley and that I could get a divorce if I made this film. And we both watched the twelve-year-old Peter Jordan, once the dar- 4 ling of the world.
There I escaped my frightening pursuers. There I starved in the orphanage. There I was with the mean Fagin who, with the help of a coat hung with little bells, taught me how to steal expertly. i
Joan said gently, "Do you know you've never changed?" | I turned down the sound. We both knew the dialogue by heart anyway. "You still have the humor, joy, thoughts of that boy up there on the screen. Those qualities distinguish you from all those other stupid, ruthless men."
Joan was beautifully groomed. Every hair in place; her make-up perfect. Everything was always perfect, I thought, exasperated. She was always right, now too. I had probably never grown up. Had I matured since making those movies? Not at all. Why did I always watch these old movies? Probably because I knew my best time had been when I was twelve years old.
"That is your charm, Peter, the little-boy appeal. That's what made me fall in love with you. My God, that was thirteen years ago; that's how long we have been living together..."
Thirteen years of doing nothing. Thirteen years of waiting. Thirteen years of whisky. Why did she have to bring all that up now?
"I don't know why I feel so sentimental. Maybe the plane is going to crash ..."
"Nonsense."
"No one knows when one's hour will come. We ... we were both so irritable lately. I wanted to apologize ..."
"I should do that."
Oliver Twist took part in a burglary. Oliver Twist was caught. Maybe I had then been more grown-up than today?
Joan murmured, "I'm so much older than you. I ought to be smarter and realize that even a great love cannot remain constant. I don't mind, really ... if only we stay together and grow old together ..."
Grow old?
Why old? I had not even been young yet! What was I, after all? A child? A man in his waning years?
"I had warned you then; I reminded you of how much older I was .. ." Old. Older. Old. What is she gettine at? "You were so wonderful! When I said, 'now it's all right but in fifteen years, when I have wrinkles .. .' do you remember what you replied?"
"What?"
"Then, we'll get you a face-lift!" She looked at me, her eyes moist. "That's what you said. All my friends were envious of me ..."
I had said that. Now she had had a face-lift. And even though the operation had made her face smooth once more, to me she had seemed more youthful before. I had loved her laughter. Now she could not laugh as before because of that damn operation. It always reminded me of my mother. It is not good if a woman reminds a man of his
The door opened and closed.
I smelled Joan's perfume. She sat down on the couch with me. She often watched my old movies with me; Shirley, never.
"ShaUIstop?"
"No. This is my favorite film." She felt for my hand and held it in her cool narrow hand. She moved closer and leaned against me; this woman I had once loved so much, whom I loved no longer.
"You're sure I'm not disturbing you, Peter?" She was especially considerate, especially loving, since she sadly watched our marriage deteriorate.
"Positive, Joan." I was considerate too.
"My plane does not leave for another three hours." I did not like the yellow dress she was wearing; it made her look older than she really was, simply because it was too youthful for her. Shirley could have worn it. But who could say that to a woman?
"I'll take you to the airport," I said. Joan had to go to New York for her aunt's funeral. An aunt who had left i her a lot of money. Joan was forever inheriting. I could not accompany her. Herbert Kostasch, the producer froni Hamburg, had sent a telegram which said, "... have sensational offer. Come Back practically certain." I was expecting him the following day.
Joan and I were sitting there, hand in hand. She probably thought how, since she loved me, she could save our marriage. I thought about how much I loved Shirley and that I could get a divorce if I made this film. And we both watched the twelve-year-old Peter Jordan, once the dar- 4 ling of the world.
There I escaped my frightening pursuers. There I starved in the orphanage. There I was with the mean Fagin who, with the help of a coat hung with little bells, taught me how to steal expertly. i
Joan said gently, "Do you know you've never changed?" | I turned down the sound. We both knew the dialogue by heart anyway. "You still have the humor, joy, thoughts of that boy up there on the screen. Those qualities distinguish you from all those other stupid, ruthless men."
Joan was beautifully groomed. Every hair in place; her make-up perfect. Everything was always perfect, I thought, exasperated. She was always right, now too. I had probably never grown up. Had I matured since making those movies? Not at all. Why did I always watch these old movies? Probably because I knew my best time had been when I was twelve years old.
"That is your charm, Peter, the little-boy appeal. That's what made me fall in love with you. My God, that was thirteen years ago; that's how long we have been living together..."
Thirteen years of doing nothing. Thirteen years of waiting. Thirteen years of whisky. Why did she have to bring all that up now?
"I don't know why I feel so sentimental. Maybe the plane is going to crash ..."
"Nonsense."
"No one knows when one's hour will come. We ... we were both so irritable lately. I wanted to apologize ..."
"I should do that."
Oliver Twist took part in a burglary. Oliver Twist was caught. Maybe I had then been more grown-up than today?
Joan murmured, "I'm so much older than you. I ought to be smarter and realize that even a great love cannot remain constant. I don't mind, really ... if only we stay together and grow old together ..."
Grow old?
Why old? I had not even been young yet! What was I, after all? A child? A man in his waning years?
"I had warned you then; I reminded you of how much older I was .. ." Old. Older. Old. What is she gettine at? "You were so wonderful! When I said, 'now it's all right but in fifteen years, when I have wrinkles .. .' do you remember what you replied?"
"What?"
"Then, we'll get you a face-lift!" She looked at me, her eyes moist. "That's what you said. All my friends were envious of me ..."
I had said that. Now she had had a face-lift. And even though the operation had made her face smooth once more, to me she had seemed more youthful before. I had loved her laughter. Now she could not laugh as before because of that damn operation. It always reminded me of my mother. It is not good if a woman reminds a man of his
Similar Books
