Love, Dad
- Автор: Хантер Эван
- Год: 1981
- Язык: английский
- Год: Crown
- ISBN: 978-0-517-54411-2
- Жанр: Роман, новелла
Электронная книга - «Love, Dad». Краткое содержание книги:
Our bedroom, Lissie thought. You cheap cunt.
“Everything all right in here?” Jamie asked, coming down the stairs with the fingers of both hands spread around three tall glasses. “Lissie?” he said. “Yours is the one on the outside here, you want to just take it? Ah, thank you, honey. Joanna, here’s the two cents plain,” he said, handing her the second glass. He lifted his own glass. “Here’s to all of us,” he said.
“I’m not supposed to toast with this,” Joanna said.
“Why not?” Jamie asked.
“Nonalcoholic.”
“What’s two cents plain, anyway?” Lissie asked.
“Seltzer water,” Joanna said. “Don’t you know the story about Harry Golden and his books?”
“No. Who’s Harry Golden?”
“A writer,” Joanna said. “He had a big hit with his first book, which was called Only in America, and then he wrote another one called For Two Cents Plain, which didn’t do as well, and then a third one called Enjoy, Enjoy! which did even worse, and finally someone suggested to his editor that the next one should be called Enough Already!” Joanna laughed and Jamie laughed with her. Lissie sipped at her Scotch. “Those are all Jewish expressions,” Joanna explained, and shrugged.
“You’re Jewish, right?” Lissie said.
“Yes. Uh-huh.”
“There was a kid at Brenner named Berkowitz, Carol Berkowitz. Do you know anybody by that name?”
“No, I’m sorry.”
“I thought she might have been related.”
“It’s a common name.”
“She was a pain in the ass, anyway,” Lissie said.
“Maybe she is related, after all,” Joanna said, and laughed.
“How long will you be staying, Lissie?” Jamie asked.
“What do you mean? Here in the city, do you mean?”
“Yes. With us, actually. If you like.”
“My bag’s already at Mom’s.”
“Oh.”
“She’s all alone in the new apartment, I thought I’d spend a few days with her.”
“Well, fine, fine,” Jamie said. He nodded, glanced at Joanna, and then took a swallow of his drink. “Are you hungry, Liss? I made a dinner reservation for seven-thirty, but if you’re getting hungry...”
“I already told Mom I’d be having dinner with her.”
“Oh,” he said. “Well, I guess I’ll... uh... have to... uh... change the reservation. I’ll do that later,” he said, as if talking to himself aloud. “Meantime, let’s catch up on what we’ve been doing, it’s been a long time, Liss. How’d you like California?”
“It was fine.”
There was a silence.
“You’re still seeing Sparky, huh?”
“Well, I really don’t want to discuss that, Dad.”
“I was just wondering whether or not he’ll be coming to the wedding.”
“No, I don’t think so.”
“He’s more than welcome.”
“I’ll be coming alone.”
“But you are seeing him, is that right?”
“What difference can that possibly make to you?”
“Well, your... your life is of some interest to me, Lissie. I guess you realize your happiness...”
“Uh-huh.”
“It is, darling.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Would anyone like some cheese puffs?” Joanna said, pushing herself up out of her chair. “I’ll put some in the oven.” She smiled at Lissie, patted Jamie’s shoulder as she passed his chair, and then moved swiftly out of the living room and up the stairs.
“She’s very pretty,” Lissie said.
“Thank you,” Jamie said.
“So,” Lissie said.
“So,” Jamie said.
“Where’s the wedding going to be?”
“In Rutledge.”
“You’re not getting married in church, are you?”
“No, no.”
“Then where?”
“At the Kreugers’ house.”
“I didn’t know they were such good friends of yours.”
“They’re not, really. They’re repaying a kindness, Lissie.”
“Uh-huh. To who?”
“Well, to me.”
“But not to Mom.”
“No. Not to your mother.”
“I wish you wouldn’t keep calling her ‘your mother,’ Dad. She’s still Mom to me, okay? You can still call her Mom, it won’t threaten anything you’ve...”
“Lissie...”
“Aw, shit,” Lissie said, and shook her head, and took another swallow of Scotch. “So that’s who you’re marrying, huh?”
“Yes, that’s who I’m marrying.”
“Trading Mom in for a new model, huh?”
“Is that what your mother said?”
“No, that’s not what Mom said, it’s what I’m saying.”
“I love her, Lissie.”
“Good, I hope so. You’re fucking up everybody else’s life, I should hope you’re doing it for a good—”
“Lissie, please lower your voice.”
“Why do you have to get married in Rutledge, for Christ’s sake? Must you, must you... advertise to everybody in that town that this is the woman you were fooling around with while you were still married to Mom? Jesus, Dad, don’t you have any decency at all?”
“Lissie, I wish you’d try to understand. Joanna and I...”
“Forget it, I don’t want to hear about you and Joanna. Let’s talk about the weather again, okay? It was very hot in Boston. The forecasters said it was going to be hot tomorrow, too. What time is it, anyway, I lost my watch. I told Mom I’d be back by six. What time is it now?”
“Four-thirty.”
“So soon? Shows how the minutes fly when you’re having a good time, doesn’t it? I’ll just finish this and run along, I’m sure you and Joanna have a lot you want to talk about, big wedding coming up, you must have millions of things to discuss. So,” she said, and swallowed the Scotch remaining in her glass, and put the glass on the coffee table, and stood up. “You put my bag in the hall, didn’t you, I’ll get it, Dad, you don’t have to bother...”
“Lissie...”
“Say goodbye to Joanna for me, will you, I’ll let myself out.”
She went into the entryway, and took her bag from the wall peg. She shrugged it onto her shoulder, tossed her blond hair, and started for the door. She had one hand on the doorknob when she turned to him, and hesitated, and then said, “I love you, Dad,” and went out of the house.
16
The sky was overcast on that twentieth day of June, and whereas the forecasters had promised sunshine for sometime later in the afternoon, Melanie Kreuger was certain her decision to hold the wedding indoors had been the right one.
The house looked glorious.
There had always been in this house a sense of coziness, the massive beams and posts throughout, the huge brick fireplace in the kitchen, the small, bright pantry with the shelves of china Melanie had brought up from Atlanta, the fine mahogany furniture in the living room and wood-paneled dining room, and in all the bedrooms the canopied beds with their butternut head- and foot-boards and the framed photographs of Civil War soldiers who had been the Kreugers’ ancestors. But today, and this was the Kreugers’ gift to Jamie and Joanna, the house was massed with flowers, the several buckets of riotously blooming daisies on the front doorstep serving only as casual invitations to a profusion of bloom within. The moment they stepped into the house, Jamie and Joanna broke into wide grins.
Larry Kreuger led them into the kitchen where he plucked a bottle of champagne from the tub of ice at the bartender’s feet and popped the cork from it. The bartender looked annoyed as Larry took four stemmed glasses from the row he’d lined up on the wet-sink counter, poured generously into them, and then said, “Before the others arrive. A private toast.” He lifted his glass. “Jamie,” he said, “you’re a good and decent man, and you’ve found yourself a beautiful and gracious woman, and I wish you both every happiness in the world.”