Paris.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m not you. Understand that, Barbara. We’re cousins, we’re close friends, but we’re very different people. I don’t just work for money, because I have to. I work because I love to. And I don’t live with Jerry Morrissey because no one will marry me.”
“You’re living with him to ensure no one will marry you.”
“Barbara, first you give me this gorgeous lunch with the most perfect chicken salad I’ve ever tasted and then you follow it up with out-of-season raspberries that must cost the same as a pint of rubies and then you give me indigestion with this glib analysis that sounds like you stopped off and picked it up at your mother’s house on your way into the city. Come on, now. You were raised to marry, to be a wife, and you do it better than anyone else I know. But I wasn’t raised the same way. Really.”
“Of course you were. You were raised with the same goals, the same aspirations I was.”
I stood. “But I put them aside when I divorced Barry. I’ve found other things that mean more to me.”
“No you haven’t.”
“Yes I have. I really have. But I’m not going to try to persuade you of that. I don’t have to justify myself. If it comforts all of you to think I’m walking around unhappy, incomplete just because I don’t wear fancy shoes—”
“Marcia, it’s not the shoes. It’s what will make you truly happy. Being married to someone fine, someone caring …”
“Someone rich. Go ahead. Say it.”
“You know, that’s a very cruel thing you just said.”
“Well, how do you think I feel, Barbara? You call me, tell me how much you miss me, how you can’t wait to see me, and then when you see me, you tell me that my life is sterile.”
“All right. I’m sorry. All I’m saying is that you can have sex and politics and everything
with
marriage. You want what I want, Mar. It’s just that…” Barbara paused and adjusted the strap of her thin, elegant gold watch. “Okay. No more. I promise. Really. I’m sorry if I overstepped the bounds of cousinhood and friendship.”
I sighed, weary from our argument, from wielding her heavy sterling knives and forks and minding my manners while her maid served us. “Okay. Listen, I have to go now. I’ll speak to you next week.”
“Are you sure you don’t have time for just one gallery?”
“I’m sure. Positive.”
An hour and a quarter later, I stood before Paterno’s desk, listening to him read the speech on civil defense I had just written. “Preparedness doesn’t stop at the Pentagon,” he intoned. “We must push—”
“Wait,” I interrupted. “Too many p’s. Take out ‘push’ and put in ‘move.’”
“I’m not looking forward to tonight,” Paterno said. He put both elbows on his desk and rubbed his big forehead in his hands. “I’d rather rest up. It’s been a rough week, and these guys are an awful audience. Remember last year? Half of them were soused and kept calling out questions.”
“Yes. Oh, God, now I remember. They were awful. That guy who got up to ask you about where you had stood on Vietnam and then started yelling about getting it in the hip in Normandy. What finally happened? You just stopped, didn’t you?”
“Yes. Sure. Especially after that idiot with the medals started arguing with the guy about Normandy. What was it?”
“Trenches, I think. Whether the trenches were deep enough. Anyway, you’ll sound like a tough militarist tonight. They’ll probably salute instead of applauding.”
“Why do I have to go through this? Speaking to all these jerks about things I don’t know about. Why a city official has to jabber on and on about defense posture, I’ll never know. Even a candidate for governor. What the hell—excuse me—can the governor of New York do about West Africa or East Asia? Why can’t I just shut up and work?”
“Because I need the job, Bill.”
“Well, I guess that’s as good a reason as any. Where was
“Why not?”
“Because I’m not you. Understand that, Barbara. We’re cousins, we’re close friends, but we’re very different people. I don’t just work for money, because I have to. I work because I love to. And I don’t live with Jerry Morrissey because no one will marry me.”
“You’re living with him to ensure no one will marry you.”
“Barbara, first you give me this gorgeous lunch with the most perfect chicken salad I’ve ever tasted and then you follow it up with out-of-season raspberries that must cost the same as a pint of rubies and then you give me indigestion with this glib analysis that sounds like you stopped off and picked it up at your mother’s house on your way into the city. Come on, now. You were raised to marry, to be a wife, and you do it better than anyone else I know. But I wasn’t raised the same way. Really.”
“Of course you were. You were raised with the same goals, the same aspirations I was.”
I stood. “But I put them aside when I divorced Barry. I’ve found other things that mean more to me.”
“No you haven’t.”
“Yes I have. I really have. But I’m not going to try to persuade you of that. I don’t have to justify myself. If it comforts all of you to think I’m walking around unhappy, incomplete just because I don’t wear fancy shoes—”
“Marcia, it’s not the shoes. It’s what will make you truly happy. Being married to someone fine, someone caring …”
“Someone rich. Go ahead. Say it.”
“You know, that’s a very cruel thing you just said.”
“Well, how do you think I feel, Barbara? You call me, tell me how much you miss me, how you can’t wait to see me, and then when you see me, you tell me that my life is sterile.”
“All right. I’m sorry. All I’m saying is that you can have sex and politics and everything
with
marriage. You want what I want, Mar. It’s just that…” Barbara paused and adjusted the strap of her thin, elegant gold watch. “Okay. No more. I promise. Really. I’m sorry if I overstepped the bounds of cousinhood and friendship.”
I sighed, weary from our argument, from wielding her heavy sterling knives and forks and minding my manners while her maid served us. “Okay. Listen, I have to go now. I’ll speak to you next week.”
“Are you sure you don’t have time for just one gallery?”
“I’m sure. Positive.”
An hour and a quarter later, I stood before Paterno’s desk, listening to him read the speech on civil defense I had just written. “Preparedness doesn’t stop at the Pentagon,” he intoned. “We must push—”
“Wait,” I interrupted. “Too many p’s. Take out ‘push’ and put in ‘move.’”
“I’m not looking forward to tonight,” Paterno said. He put both elbows on his desk and rubbed his big forehead in his hands. “I’d rather rest up. It’s been a rough week, and these guys are an awful audience. Remember last year? Half of them were soused and kept calling out questions.”
“Yes. Oh, God, now I remember. They were awful. That guy who got up to ask you about where you had stood on Vietnam and then started yelling about getting it in the hip in Normandy. What finally happened? You just stopped, didn’t you?”
“Yes. Sure. Especially after that idiot with the medals started arguing with the guy about Normandy. What was it?”
“Trenches, I think. Whether the trenches were deep enough. Anyway, you’ll sound like a tough militarist tonight. They’ll probably salute instead of applauding.”
“Why do I have to go through this? Speaking to all these jerks about things I don’t know about. Why a city official has to jabber on and on about defense posture, I’ll never know. Even a candidate for governor. What the hell—excuse me—can the governor of New York do about West Africa or East Asia? Why can’t I just shut up and work?”
“Because I need the job, Bill.”
“Well, I guess that’s as good a reason as any. Where was
Similar Books
