Read Online A Place I've Never Been by David Leavitt - Free Book Online Page A

she was just barely holding in her tears. They said their “I do”s. They exchanged rings. They kissed, and everyone cheered.
    At my table in the dining room were seated Walter; the Winterses’ maid, Juanita; her son; the schizophrenic girl; and the schizophrenic girl’s mother. It was in the darkest, most invisible corner of the room, and I could see it was no accident that Marjorie Winters had gathered us all here—all the misfits and minorities, the kooks and oddities of the wedding. For a minute, sitting down and gazing out at the other tables, which were full of beautiful women and men in tuxedos, I was so mad at Diana I wanted to run back to the presents table and reclaim my Cuisinart, which I really couldn’t afford to be giving her anyway, and which she certainly didn’t deserve. But then I realized that people would probably think I was a thief and call the hotel detective or the police, and I decided not to.
    The food, Leonore would have been pleased to know, was mediocre. Next to me, the schizophrenic girl stabbed with her knife at a pathetic-looking little bowl of melon balls and greenish strawberries, while her mother looked out exhaustedly, impatiently, at the expanse of the hotel dining room. Seeing that the schizophrenic girl had started, Juanita’s son, who must have been seven feet tall, began eating as well, but she slapped his hand. Not wanting to embarrass him by staring, I looked at the schizophrenic girl. I knew she was the schizophrenic girl by her glasses—big, ugly, red ones from the seventies, the kind where the temples start at the bottom of the frames—and the way she slumped over her fruit salad, as if she was afraid someone might steal it.
    â€œHello,” I said to her.
    She didn’t say anything. Her mother, dragged back into focus, looked down at her and said, “Oh now, Natalie.”
    â€œHello,” Natalie said.
    The mother smiled. “Are you with the bride or the groom?” she asked.
    â€œThe bride.”
    â€œRelation?”
    â€œFriend from college.”
    â€œHow nice,” the mother said. “We’re with the groom. Old neighbors. Natalie and Charlie were born the same day in the same hospital, isn’t that right, Nat?”
    â€œYes,” Natalie said.
    â€œShe’s very shy,” the mother said to me, and winked.
    Across the table Walter was asking Juanita’s son if he played basketball. Shyly, in a Jamaican accent, he admitted that he did. His face was as arch and stern as that of his mother, a fat brown woman with the eyes of a prison guard. She smelled very clean, almost antiseptic.
    â€œNatalie, are you in school?” I asked.
    She continued to stab at her fruit salad, not really eating it as much as trying to decimate the pieces of melon.
    â€œTell the lady, Natalie,” said her mother.
    â€œYes.”
    â€œNatalie’s in a very special school,” the mother said.
    â€œI’m a social worker,” I said. “I understand about Natalie.”
    â€œOh really, you are?” the mother said, and relief flushed her face. “I’m so glad. It’s sopainful, having to explain—you know—”
    Walter was trying to get Juanita to reveal the secret location of the honeymoon. “I’m not saying,” Juanita said. “Not one word.”
    â€œCome on,” said Walter. “I won’t tell a soul, I swear.”
    â€œI’m on TV,” Natalie said.
    â€œOh now,” said her mother.
    â€œI am. I’m on
The Facts of Life
. I’m Tuti.”
    â€œNow, Natalie, you know you’re not.”
    â€œAnd I’m also on
All My Children
during the day. It’s a tough life, but I manage.”
    â€œNatalie, you know you’re not to tell these stories.”
    â€œDid someone mention
All My Children
?” asked Juanita’s son. Walter, too, looked interested.
    â€œMy lips are forever sealed,” Juanita