mean something more sinister, no, nothing happened.”
“Well, that’s too bad, I guess,” the General said.
“Too bad, you guess?” Aurora said, stung. She snatched his nightcap off and threw it in the general direction of his glove.
The General realized from her hostile tone that in all likelihood he had misspoken, but he was just waking up and didn’t quite have his mental bearings; he knew it was foolish to speak when he didn’t have his mental bearings, particularly if Aurora had hers—and she usually did have hers—but he often failed to stop himself in time. This was particularly likely to lead to trouble if Aurora was feeling subdued when he popped off.
Besides speaking in a hostile tone, she jerked her hand away, a sure sign that she was miffed, or worse. The General decided to pretend that he had just made a very general remark with no very specific intent. This might not work, but it was about the only option he had open to him.
“I just meant it was too bad you didn’t have a more agreeable evening,” he said, and then he began to hum a patriotic tune, something he had taken to doing with increasing frequency in moments of stress. Since almost all moments were now moments of stress, he found himself doing a good deal of humming.
In this case the patriotic tune he started to hum was “There’s a Star-Spangled Banner Waving Somewhere,” a tune he associated with the Second World War, though it seemed to him he had also heard it a good many times during the Korean engagement.
“Stop that stupid humming, Hector,” Aurora said. “Every time you fumble the ball nowadays you start humming unrecognizable melodies from your distant youth. I much preferthat you just admit that you fumbled the ball, as you did. Humming, as you prefer to engage in it, won’t help you recover many fumbles, if I’m using the right terminology.”
“That wasn’t an unrecognizable melody,” the General protested. “That was ‘There’s a Star-Spangled Banner Waving Somewhere.’”
“Shut up about the stupid song,” Aurora said. “Didn’t you just imply that you wished I’d slept with Pascal?”
“Of course I didn’t imply it,” the General said. “I didn’t imply any such a goddamn thing.”
It occurred to him that perhaps he had implied it, but if so, what was to be gained by admitting it?
“Then what did you mean when you said it was too bad that nothing more sinister happened between Pascal and myself this evening?” Aurora asked. “Were you hoping he’d murder me? Was that what you meant was too bad, that he didn’t murder me?”
“Aurora, I just woke up,” the General said. “I don’t know what I meant. I probably said something stupid. We quarrel all day as it is—do we have to quarrel all night, too?”
“Get out from under me, Hector,” Aurora said. He seemed to be trying to wedge himself underneath her—it was another of his new habits.
“And stop lying, too,” she added. “My hearing has not deserted me, thank you, and I very distinctly heard a remark suggesting that I am now free to seduce my admirers willy-nilly, and furthermore that I can count on your sympathy, if one lets me down, shall we say?”
“I thought I was supposed to be sympathetic to whatever happened to you,” the General said. “You’re always complaining about my lack of sympathy, but the second I show some I get attacked. I’d like to know what the rule is. Am I supposed to chortle with glee every time some fool disappoints you?”
“Yes, that’s exactly what I expect you to do,” Aurora said. “You’ve hounded me with your jealousies for more years than I can remember, and I won’t have you wimping out now.”
“Doing what, now?” the General asked.
“Wimpery, wimping out,” Aurora said. “It’s something Melanie often complains about. Now that it’s happened to me I’ve decided that it’s a very useful term.”
“What’s it supposed to mean?” the General asked.
“It
“Well, that’s too bad, I guess,” the General said.
“Too bad, you guess?” Aurora said, stung. She snatched his nightcap off and threw it in the general direction of his glove.
The General realized from her hostile tone that in all likelihood he had misspoken, but he was just waking up and didn’t quite have his mental bearings; he knew it was foolish to speak when he didn’t have his mental bearings, particularly if Aurora had hers—and she usually did have hers—but he often failed to stop himself in time. This was particularly likely to lead to trouble if Aurora was feeling subdued when he popped off.
Besides speaking in a hostile tone, she jerked her hand away, a sure sign that she was miffed, or worse. The General decided to pretend that he had just made a very general remark with no very specific intent. This might not work, but it was about the only option he had open to him.
“I just meant it was too bad you didn’t have a more agreeable evening,” he said, and then he began to hum a patriotic tune, something he had taken to doing with increasing frequency in moments of stress. Since almost all moments were now moments of stress, he found himself doing a good deal of humming.
In this case the patriotic tune he started to hum was “There’s a Star-Spangled Banner Waving Somewhere,” a tune he associated with the Second World War, though it seemed to him he had also heard it a good many times during the Korean engagement.
“Stop that stupid humming, Hector,” Aurora said. “Every time you fumble the ball nowadays you start humming unrecognizable melodies from your distant youth. I much preferthat you just admit that you fumbled the ball, as you did. Humming, as you prefer to engage in it, won’t help you recover many fumbles, if I’m using the right terminology.”
“That wasn’t an unrecognizable melody,” the General protested. “That was ‘There’s a Star-Spangled Banner Waving Somewhere.’”
“Shut up about the stupid song,” Aurora said. “Didn’t you just imply that you wished I’d slept with Pascal?”
“Of course I didn’t imply it,” the General said. “I didn’t imply any such a goddamn thing.”
It occurred to him that perhaps he had implied it, but if so, what was to be gained by admitting it?
“Then what did you mean when you said it was too bad that nothing more sinister happened between Pascal and myself this evening?” Aurora asked. “Were you hoping he’d murder me? Was that what you meant was too bad, that he didn’t murder me?”
“Aurora, I just woke up,” the General said. “I don’t know what I meant. I probably said something stupid. We quarrel all day as it is—do we have to quarrel all night, too?”
“Get out from under me, Hector,” Aurora said. He seemed to be trying to wedge himself underneath her—it was another of his new habits.
“And stop lying, too,” she added. “My hearing has not deserted me, thank you, and I very distinctly heard a remark suggesting that I am now free to seduce my admirers willy-nilly, and furthermore that I can count on your sympathy, if one lets me down, shall we say?”
“I thought I was supposed to be sympathetic to whatever happened to you,” the General said. “You’re always complaining about my lack of sympathy, but the second I show some I get attacked. I’d like to know what the rule is. Am I supposed to chortle with glee every time some fool disappoints you?”
“Yes, that’s exactly what I expect you to do,” Aurora said. “You’ve hounded me with your jealousies for more years than I can remember, and I won’t have you wimping out now.”
“Doing what, now?” the General asked.
“Wimpery, wimping out,” Aurora said. “It’s something Melanie often complains about. Now that it’s happened to me I’ve decided that it’s a very useful term.”
“What’s it supposed to mean?” the General asked.
“It
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