Эд Макбейн - Last Summer

But there was no question in her mind that a party was in progress, and that she was out on the lawn only listening to the music and laughter inside. The music at this party was insistent, just as David had described it yesterday, hardly ever melodic, the driving chords and rhythms creating a hypnotic sound to which everybody danced, again as David had described them, in a sort of self-involved trance. No one touched or tried to touch, all the writhing and wriggling was directed at nobody in particular, it all seemed to be part of a show — Come see, come admire, like an exhibition of some kind. (She had written all of this in her column called “Feelings,” Rhoda said, and I thought No wonder you got letters.)

Everyone at this party is in costume, Rhoda said, but it isn’t a costume ball, they’re wearing regular street clothes that only seem to be disguises. The girls’ skirts are very short, with oh such marvelous colors, bright reds and oranges, greens and blues, pinks and purples, yellows and whites in stripes and polka dots, but they’re all combined in such a mad swirl that they seem like no color at all. And there are false eyelashes and wigs, flowing falls and sequins, metal skirts and plastic dresses, boots that reach to the calf or the thigh, See me, see me, everybody yells, Look at me, See me! And yet the funny thing, Peter, is that although everybody’s so exposed and naked at this party to which I haven’t been invited, there’s really no exposure at all, do you know what I mean, well, let me explain. (No, I thought, don’t bother, you’re putting me to sleep.)

Where’s the nucleus , Rhoda said, that’s what I mean. Where’s the person in all this action and noise, where’s the self in all this laughter? In fact, why’s there so much laughter to begin with, and why is it so loud?

The girls never just stand , Peter, they move, they’re in constant motion before the paintings on the walls, and the sculptures in the corners, lovely girls in motion in a riot of color against the riot of color behind them and around them, laughing and talking to boys whose hair is just as long as theirs, whose slacks are just as tight, moving and laughing with the stuff on the walls and in the corners but not at it, laughing instead at all the squares who aren’t in on this big joke whatever it is. I guess they’re even laughing when they take the old pill and go into the next room for some casual intercourse with a stranger or two (She must have blushed here, I don’t know, my eyes were closed), and then shake hands afterward and say So long, or How do you do, I don’t believe we’ve met, and then have another good laugh at the newspaper articles that tell where the action is, because this is where the action is.

The sun was hot, her voice was becoming more insistent (a bit hysterical, in fact), she seemed to find in my silent presence a sounding board for future columns called “Feelings,” she put her hand on my arm, her fingers were cold despite the sun, I think they’re afraid, she said. I think that’s why they threw this party in the first place, and I think that’s why it’s lasting through the night. But that’s exactly why I want to be invited, Peter! I’m as scared as they are, I want to be drowned in sound and color, I want to laugh with them, and dance with them and move with them! I want to feel them all around me, I want to see them, yes, see their naked legs and breasts and know that that’s the way I look, too, we’re all the same, all of us. Peter, I long to go to that party, but I’m terrified of going to it. I’m such a square, I know, I know. But I have the feeling that once I get there, I’ll really become like all the rest, that in our nuclear generation I’ll forget that I’m the nucleus and just lose myself in all the others laughing. I’m such a square, Peter.

I opened my eyes. The sky was still bright with buoyant clouds, the water still murmured softly in the cove, but Rhoda’s voice beside me suddenly chilled me, and gooseflesh broke out on my arms and across my chest.

The summer my mother died should have been the last summer for me, she said, I should have grown up fast and all at once, I should have come face to face with all the loss anyone ever has to experience. But each year, I seem to lose a little more, more and more each summer, until I want to shout ‘ Leave me something, at least please leave me something ,’ until I want to grab a microphone the way I did at Sandy’s house, and sing out louder than the noise, and thank everyone for listening, and then smile and tell them who I am, me , ‘My name is Rhoda .’ But I know, I know inside it isn’t any use, I’ll have to lose everything sooner or later, and I’ll join the others, yes, I’ll huddle with them in fear, and the party’ll end the minute I get there. That’ll be the last summer, Peter. Mine and maybe everybody’s. And I’m so afraid of winter coming.

“Mmm,” I said.

“Yes,” she said.

“I’ve got to be truthful with you,” I said. “That’s one of the things we don’t like about you.”

“What is?”

“That sometimes you sound like an old lady.”

“Well, sometimes I feel like an old lady.”

“Then try to hide your feelings, will you?”

“I can’t.”

“Because it isn’t much fun to hear somebody making dire predictions.”

“You didn’t seem to mind when David went on and on about pop music and amplification and...”

“That’s different, he also played records.”

“Well, if Catholics are eating meat,” Rhoda said illogically, “and Jews are decorating Christmas trees, where’s the meaning?”

“Of what?”

“Of anything. ”

“The meaning is freedom.”

“Oh, baloney,” Rhoda said.

“Yes,” I said, “freedom, Rhoda. This is the nuclear generation, you’re right, but it’s not the awful thing you seem to think it is. We’ve finally freed ourselves from the force of gravity, Rhoda, we’re on the way to the moon, we’re free! And in the same way, we’re freeing ourselves from suspicion and doubt and ignorance and taboo. Rhoda, you don’t have to take my word for this...”

“Peter, don’t you see...?”

“... ask Sandy, ask David. Rhoda, believe me when I say there’s a new and exciting world everywhere around us, and you’re simply rejecting it. In fact, Rhoda, you’re the one who refuses to feel.”

“Me? But that’s exactly what I’ve been...”

“No, no, I beg your pardon. You said we were all having too much fun and acting as if every day was the Fourth of July.”

“I never said that.”

“Not in those words, maybe, but what’s wrong with a little fun, Rhoda? Why don’t you join the party?”

“It would be like kissing myself in the mirror,” she said.

“Well, what’s wrong with that , as a matter of fact? You’re a pretty girl, Rhoda. If you...”

“ Am I?” she said.

“Of course you are. Rhoda, this is a new era , people simply can’t be bothered with petty restrictions and...”

“Am I really pretty?”

“... yes, and foolish prohibitions. Do you suppose it would make a damn bit of difference if you were to strip down naked right here on this beach?”

“Peter, I could never...”

“Do you for a minute imagine I’d be shocked?”

“Well, I don’t...”

“Rhoda, I wouldn’t be shocked at all, believe me. I’d look at you, yes,” I said, and grinned. “But I certainly...”