Флетчер Флора - Park Avenue Tramp

“I suppose you’re right. Yes, I’m certain that you are. I have lots of money, though, so it’s no particular problem for us.”

“That’s a nice way to look at it. Very generous. Is it your money or your husband’s?”

“Well, it’s his, actually, but I’m permitted to use all of it that I want.”

“Even on another man?”

“I’m not asked to submit a statement of expenses. It isn’t necessary for him to know how I spend the money.”

“I see. He seems to be quite liberal, to say the least. Maybe he doesn’t deserve to be deceived.”

“No, no. You don’t understand at all. It’s impossible to think of Oliver as being liberal. It’s just that he’s always had so much money that he’s never learned to consider it important.”

“I doubt that I’d ever be able to understand that.”

“Yes. That’s so. It’s possible only to people who have always been rich.”

“Anyhow, the money aside, he must be liberal regarding you in other respects. What I mean is, you seem to do a lot of moving around on your own. Aren’t you ever required to account for your time?”

The conversation had now become suddenly threatening, and she wished that he had not asked the last question. It compelled her to think of how Oliver had known last night precisely where she had been the night before, and to wonder if he would know tomorrow where she was tonight. This was something she did not wish to think of, and she refused to believe, in spite of what she had thought, or said to Edith, that he was having her followed or possessed supernatural powers to know what it was clearly impossible for him to know normally. It was much more likely that he had learned what he knew by accident. Yes, that was almost certainly it. Someone had seen her and followed her, someone she knew who did not like her and wished her harm. This person, whoever he was, had told on her to Oliver out of pure malice, and the more she thought about it, the more she became convinced that it was probably Milton Crawford, for it was just the sort of mean trick Milton would be capable of playing when his vanity was hurt. Of course. It became clearer and clearer as one thought about it. Milton had seen her leaving the place they had been, and he’d followed her and told on her. It might seem rather incredible that anyone would go to all that degrading trouble just to play a mean trick, but not if you knew Milton, and she was convinced, because she wanted to be, that this was the explanation for everything.

“Well,” she said, “he frequently asks me where I’ve been and what I’ve been doing, but I’m always able to explain things satisfactorily.”

“You mean that you’re an accomplished liar.”

“I don’t think it’s fair to put it that way. I’m only doing good to everyone concerned by not telling things that would get everyone disturbed and cause a lot of unnecessary trouble.”

He closed his eyes. The tips of her fingers worked a kind of cool, dry magic.

“Oh, Jesus,” he said.

“What? Why did you say that?”

“Never mind. I’m just wondering if you’re sublimely rational or completely in left field.”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, and I don’t think I care to. What I think is, we’re wasting too much time in talking about depressing things. As I said, I can only stay for a while, perhaps until eleven or twelve, and I’d like to talk about something cheerful or nothing at all.”

“All right. What shall we talk about?”

“I’d like to talk about what we’ll do tomorrow, and I’ve already decided what it will be.”

“Is that so? Tell me.”

“I’ve decided that we will drive out on Long Island in my Jaguar. It’s plain that getting out of the city would be very good for you, and it’s fun to drive out somewhere in a Jaguar. Have you ever done it?”

“I’ve never owned a Jaguar.”

“You’ll love driving out on Long Island in one. Wait and see.”

“What if I were to decide that I don’t want to drive out on Long Island in a Jaguar?”

“Are you serious?”

“No.”

“You’ll go?”

“Yes.”

“Good. That’s settled, then. I’ve also got an idea about what we might do the weekend. Would you like me to tell you?”

“Yes, I would.”

“Well, I have a friend who has a house in Connecticut, and I’m sure it would be all right with her if we went up there and used it. Have you been in Connecticut?”

“Probably not to the same places in Connecticut that you’ve been.”

“Oh, Connecticut isn’t very big. You can hardly go there at all without going practically everywhere.”

He began to laugh again very softly, scarcely audibly, stopping after a minute or two with a strangled sound in his throat.

“Why are you laughing again?” she said.

“I don’t know. I have a feeling that I shouldn’t be laughing at all.”

“Will you go to Connecticut with me?”

“Can you explain a weekend to your husband?”

“I’ll think of something. Probably this friend who owns the house will be willing to say she wants me to go up with her. Will you go?”

“I have an idea that I will.”

“That’s sensible. Do you see how good I am for you? The bartender where you work said I would be bad for you, but you can see that it isn’t so. Already you’re laughing and looking forward to doing things.”

“I told you about Yancy. He worries too much.”

“That’s true. He means well, but he worries too much. What time is it?”

He lifted his left arm so that he could see the watch on his wrist.

“Almost nine-thirty. Why?”

“I was wondering how much time was left before eleven or twelve. I’m sure I can safely stay till twelve. It’s becoming rather tiring, sitting here this way, however. I think it would he more comfortable for both of us if we moved over to the bed.”

There was no denying the validity of this, and so they moved, but after a while they went to sleep while the music on the record kept repeating itself, and it was after one when she wakened and went away.

Thursday on Long Island was wonderful, a fine day, and they drove from Jamaica to the North Shore and all the way along the North Shore to Orient Point, where they had a very interesting time in a secluded place, and the next day, Friday afternoon, they drove northeast into Fairfield County, Connecticut. They went directly to the Early American house of Charity’s friend, which had been arranged for, and they were alone there that night and the day after, and in the evening of the day after, which was Saturday, they lay side by side on a pair of chaises longues on a terrace and felt domestic, as if Joe had just a little while ago got off the 6:02 from the city. From where they were on the terrace, they could see across quite a lot of grass to a bluestone drive that ran down to the road through a split-rail fence with a hitching post beside it. The split-rail fence didn’t keep anything in or out, and nothing was ever hitched to the hitching post, but they were pretty and effective and were something nice to look at in the cool evening.

“Exurbia,” Joe said.

“What?” Charity said.

“I said Exurbia. You know. A place beyond Suburbia where people live.”

“Oh. Like in the book, you mean. I didn’t read it, because I hardly ever read anything at all, but I remember people talking about it at cocktail parties and places, and some of them were quite angry. The ones who live here, I guess. My friend, Samantha Cox, who owns this house, said that it presented a very distorted picture of things, but she was forced to admit in fairness that it was very clever. Samantha makes quite a point of being absolutely fair about books.”