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Bullet Park :: Cheever John
Страница: 115 из 131She was wearing a gray dress with a white thread on the shoulder. "Did you get anything to eat?" she asked.
"I had a hamburger."
"I'm sorry I spent all your money."
That's all right. I've got more. Why don't you come over to my house?"
"Where do you live?"
"I bought Dora Emmison's place."
"I'll get a coat. I feel like a prisoner here."
Back at my house I lighted a fire, made some drinks and we sat in the yellow room while she told me her story. She was twenty-three and had never married. She had lived in France until she was twelve when her parents were killed in an accident and her grandfather became her guardian. She had gone to Bennington. When her grandfather moved to the country she took an apartment and got a job as a receptionist at Macy's. She was bored and lonely in the city and had come out to Blenville in the autumn with the hope of finding a job, but the only industry in Blenville was the motel and she didn't want to be either a prostitute or a chambermaid.
While she was talking there was a loud crack of thunder. Thunder was unusual at that time of year-the late winter-and at the first explosion I thought a plane had broken the sound barrier. The second peal-rolling and percussive-was unmistakably thunder. "Dammit," she said.
"What's the matter?"
"I'm afraid of thunder. I know it's absurd but that doesn't make any difference. When I was working at Macy's and living alone I used to hide in the closet when there was a thunderstorm. I finally went to a psychiatrist to see if he could do anything and he said the reason I was afraid of thunder was because I was a terrible egocentric. He said I thought I was so important that the thunder would seek me out for extermination. All of this may be true but it doesn't keep me from trembling." She was trembling then and I took her in my arms and we became lovers before the storm had passed over my land. "That felt good," she said, "that felt very good. That was a nice thing to do."
"I've never had it better," I said. "Let's get married."
Six weeks later we were married in the church in Blenville. Marietta wore a gray suit with a white thread on the lapel. (Where did all those threads come from? Later, when we traveled in Europe, she would sometimes appear with a white thread on her shoulder.) After the wedding we flew to Curacao and spent two weeks at St. Martha's Bay. It was lovely and when we returned to Blenville I seemed to possess everything in the world that I wanted.
"I had a hamburger."
"I'm sorry I spent all your money."
That's all right. I've got more. Why don't you come over to my house?"
"Where do you live?"
"I bought Dora Emmison's place."
"I'll get a coat. I feel like a prisoner here."
Back at my house I lighted a fire, made some drinks and we sat in the yellow room while she told me her story. She was twenty-three and had never married. She had lived in France until she was twelve when her parents were killed in an accident and her grandfather became her guardian. She had gone to Bennington. When her grandfather moved to the country she took an apartment and got a job as a receptionist at Macy's. She was bored and lonely in the city and had come out to Blenville in the autumn with the hope of finding a job, but the only industry in Blenville was the motel and she didn't want to be either a prostitute or a chambermaid.
While she was talking there was a loud crack of thunder. Thunder was unusual at that time of year-the late winter-and at the first explosion I thought a plane had broken the sound barrier. The second peal-rolling and percussive-was unmistakably thunder. "Dammit," she said.
"What's the matter?"
"I'm afraid of thunder. I know it's absurd but that doesn't make any difference. When I was working at Macy's and living alone I used to hide in the closet when there was a thunderstorm. I finally went to a psychiatrist to see if he could do anything and he said the reason I was afraid of thunder was because I was a terrible egocentric. He said I thought I was so important that the thunder would seek me out for extermination. All of this may be true but it doesn't keep me from trembling." She was trembling then and I took her in my arms and we became lovers before the storm had passed over my land. "That felt good," she said, "that felt very good. That was a nice thing to do."
"I've never had it better," I said. "Let's get married."
Six weeks later we were married in the church in Blenville. Marietta wore a gray suit with a white thread on the lapel. (Where did all those threads come from? Later, when we traveled in Europe, she would sometimes appear with a white thread on her shoulder.) After the wedding we flew to Curacao and spent two weeks at St. Martha's Bay. It was lovely and when we returned to Blenville I seemed to possess everything in the world that I wanted.