indicated that he could not possibly be a homosexual. Most of the guests, unlike Susy, looked all right from the neck up (these two even had horn-rimmed glasses), but somehow that made it worse.
Katherine had hoped no one would speak to her until she felt clearer in the head, but now a girl sat down next to her on the sofa. “I’m Natalie Lenaghan,” she said pleasantly, “and you must be Mrs. Cattleman. How do you do?”
“How do you do,” Katherine said, since this was safe.
“We live in the next building but one,” Mrs. Lenaghan went on. “My husband’s at U.C.L.A.; that’s him over there.”
Katherine made no response. This was even safer. She observed Mr. Lenaghan: he was all right from the waist up, but below that he wore red plaid shorts. Mrs. Lenaghan, however, would have passed in Harvard Square.
“You’ve just come out here, haven’t you?” Mrs. Lenaghan said. “How do you like Los Angeles? ... Or don’t you really know yet?”
“Oh, I know,” Katherine replied. She realized dimly that this was a wrong answer.
“Susy says you’ve found a nice house quite near here,” Mrs. Lenaghan tried again after a pause. “That’s really wonderful luck. What’s it like?”
“It looks like a gas station,” Katherine said. “I mean, lots of these houses here look like gas stations, with those flat roofs, don’t you think so? ... They do, because they’re white and made out of cement, and they have flat roofs.”
Mrs. Lenaghan laughed. “Well, but that’s because it hardly ever rains in L.A. A sloping roof wouldn’t be any use here. Still, I see what you mean. When you come to think of it,” she added, “there are a lot of gas stations here that look like houses. There’s one up in Brentwood that’s exactly like a New England lighthouse.” She laughed again.
Katherine did not laugh. She wished that this agreeable and apparently intelligent woman would leave and come back some other time. I’m drunk, she thought of saying, so would you please go away now, before I make a fool of myself? But the utterance of this statement would be the action it was designed to prevent.
“Of course there are some ridiculous things here,” Mrs. Lenaghan went on. “But then think of the climate! That’s what I always say to myself.”
“I don’t like the climate,” Katherine said. “I don’t like the sun shining all the time in November, and the grass growing. It’s unnatural, it’s as if we were all shut up in some horrible big greenhouse away from the real world and the real seasons.” She raised her voice. “I hate the oranges here as big as grapefruits and the grapefruits as big as, I don’t know what, as big as advertisements for grapefruit, without any taste. Everything’s advertisements here. Everything has a wrong name. I mean the name of everything, you see, it’s always a lie, like an advertisement. For instance, this is Mar Vista, which is supposed to be Spanish for ‘view of the sea.’ But it has no view of the sea; it’s all flat, it has no view of anything. Mar Vista!” she repeated scornfully. “Spoil-the-View, I call it; Spoil-the-View, California.”
People were listening to Katherine again now, but she did not notice. “I despise it here,” she went on to Mrs. Lenaghan. “You know what I saw the first day I got to Los Angeles, when Paul was driving me back from the airport, the first afternoon I was here? We were driving back from the airport, and we passed a doughnut stand, and on top of it was this huge cement doughnut about twenty feet high, revolting around. I mean revolving. You know. It was going around and around.” Katherine waved her arm in demonstration. “That was the first thing I saw, before I saw the stand. From a long, long way off, that big empty hole going around and around up in the air, with some name painted on it. Well I thought, that’s what this city is! That’s what it is, a great big advertisement for nothing.”
Katherine stopped
Katherine had hoped no one would speak to her until she felt clearer in the head, but now a girl sat down next to her on the sofa. “I’m Natalie Lenaghan,” she said pleasantly, “and you must be Mrs. Cattleman. How do you do?”
“How do you do,” Katherine said, since this was safe.
“We live in the next building but one,” Mrs. Lenaghan went on. “My husband’s at U.C.L.A.; that’s him over there.”
Katherine made no response. This was even safer. She observed Mr. Lenaghan: he was all right from the waist up, but below that he wore red plaid shorts. Mrs. Lenaghan, however, would have passed in Harvard Square.
“You’ve just come out here, haven’t you?” Mrs. Lenaghan said. “How do you like Los Angeles? ... Or don’t you really know yet?”
“Oh, I know,” Katherine replied. She realized dimly that this was a wrong answer.
“Susy says you’ve found a nice house quite near here,” Mrs. Lenaghan tried again after a pause. “That’s really wonderful luck. What’s it like?”
“It looks like a gas station,” Katherine said. “I mean, lots of these houses here look like gas stations, with those flat roofs, don’t you think so? ... They do, because they’re white and made out of cement, and they have flat roofs.”
Mrs. Lenaghan laughed. “Well, but that’s because it hardly ever rains in L.A. A sloping roof wouldn’t be any use here. Still, I see what you mean. When you come to think of it,” she added, “there are a lot of gas stations here that look like houses. There’s one up in Brentwood that’s exactly like a New England lighthouse.” She laughed again.
Katherine did not laugh. She wished that this agreeable and apparently intelligent woman would leave and come back some other time. I’m drunk, she thought of saying, so would you please go away now, before I make a fool of myself? But the utterance of this statement would be the action it was designed to prevent.
“Of course there are some ridiculous things here,” Mrs. Lenaghan went on. “But then think of the climate! That’s what I always say to myself.”
“I don’t like the climate,” Katherine said. “I don’t like the sun shining all the time in November, and the grass growing. It’s unnatural, it’s as if we were all shut up in some horrible big greenhouse away from the real world and the real seasons.” She raised her voice. “I hate the oranges here as big as grapefruits and the grapefruits as big as, I don’t know what, as big as advertisements for grapefruit, without any taste. Everything’s advertisements here. Everything has a wrong name. I mean the name of everything, you see, it’s always a lie, like an advertisement. For instance, this is Mar Vista, which is supposed to be Spanish for ‘view of the sea.’ But it has no view of the sea; it’s all flat, it has no view of anything. Mar Vista!” she repeated scornfully. “Spoil-the-View, I call it; Spoil-the-View, California.”
People were listening to Katherine again now, but she did not notice. “I despise it here,” she went on to Mrs. Lenaghan. “You know what I saw the first day I got to Los Angeles, when Paul was driving me back from the airport, the first afternoon I was here? We were driving back from the airport, and we passed a doughnut stand, and on top of it was this huge cement doughnut about twenty feet high, revolting around. I mean revolving. You know. It was going around and around.” Katherine waved her arm in demonstration. “That was the first thing I saw, before I saw the stand. From a long, long way off, that big empty hole going around and around up in the air, with some name painted on it. Well I thought, that’s what this city is! That’s what it is, a great big advertisement for nothing.”
Katherine stopped
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