sort of way, and apparently frigid to the point of phobia.
“He never said much about it,” she went on, “but I gather it was pretty horrible on their wedding night, and never did get any better. Psychic trauma of some kind, I suppose; probably something that happened in her childhood.”
They tried to make a go of it, but there were other factors besides her aversion to the bed. She thought they should have more financial help from his parents instead of struggling along on the GI Bill. And she didn’t want to leave New Orleans. Less than a year after he’d finished law school and moved back to Thomaston to open his office, they separated. She went home to mother. Her health was growing worse. She was anemic, among other things.
Marian stopped the tape again. I looked at my watch and saw with surprise it was after ten. “How are you getting it?” she asked.
“Fine,” I said. I sat up and lit cigarettes, and leaned back against the chair. “But when do you actually appear on the scene?”
“Very shortly,” she replied. “But I want to finish out this roll exclusively with Harris. It’ll be easier to refer to later.”
She made some more notes, started the tape, and went on, describing the town, the small country club, and some of his friends. We began to near the end of the roll.
“He has a fast, aggressive way of walking. He won’t admit it, but he can’t carry liquor very well. Becomes argumentative if he has too much, which is usually anything beyond the third Martini. Music means nothing to him, and he’s a poor dancer. For the past two years on these annual fishing trips he’s picked up girls, probably very young ones. He doesn’t know that I’m aware of this, but I doubt he’d have bothered to he about it. After all, we weren’t married.
“Maybe it’s because of the legal training and courtroom experience, but he’s totally unafraid of scenes and will argue with anybody, anywhere. Waiters impress him not at all, and I’ve been through some bad moments when he’s sent the same dish back three times, or refused to tip a waiter who gave poor service. I don’t mean he’s loudmouthed or uncouth, but he is demanding and perhaps rather insensitive. He always adds up a bill before he pays it. He buys a new Cadillac every year. He’s a very poor driver, and drives far too fast. He’s very self-assured with women, the same as you are. You’ll have no trouble playing him. When they describe you afterwards, if you learn all this, they’re going to be describing Harris Chapman to the last gesture.”
She stopped the machine, and stood up. “All right. Re-roll that tape and start playing it back. I’ll run out and get us some sandwiches.”
“Incidentally, what about the housekeeping arrangements? Do we go out for dinner?”
“Yes,” she replied. “It’ll be all right if we go round to different places so we won’t be remembered. We can fix our own coffee and orange juice for breakfast, and have sandwiches for lunch.”
“You turned the car back?”
“Yes. After all, I’m supposed to be in Nassau. You’ll rent one, of course, before he gets here, but in the meantime we can use cabs. All right, Jerry; re-roll that tape and get busy.”
She went into the bedroom. I started the tape, turned up the volume, and walked up and down as I listened to it. The bedroom door was open. I stepped inside. The blue pajamas were tossed casually on the bed and she was beyond it with her back turned, wearing only bra and pants as she stood before the clothes closet. I looked at the long and exquisitely slender legs, ever so faintly tanned below the line of her swim suit and pure ivory above as they flowed into the triangular wisp of undergarment about her hips.
She turned then. I must have taken a step towards her, for she said crisply, “No, you don’t! Outside!” She meant it. She took a slip from a drawer, and slid it over her head.
“I’m sorry, Teacher. But you’re a very exciting
“He never said much about it,” she went on, “but I gather it was pretty horrible on their wedding night, and never did get any better. Psychic trauma of some kind, I suppose; probably something that happened in her childhood.”
They tried to make a go of it, but there were other factors besides her aversion to the bed. She thought they should have more financial help from his parents instead of struggling along on the GI Bill. And she didn’t want to leave New Orleans. Less than a year after he’d finished law school and moved back to Thomaston to open his office, they separated. She went home to mother. Her health was growing worse. She was anemic, among other things.
Marian stopped the tape again. I looked at my watch and saw with surprise it was after ten. “How are you getting it?” she asked.
“Fine,” I said. I sat up and lit cigarettes, and leaned back against the chair. “But when do you actually appear on the scene?”
“Very shortly,” she replied. “But I want to finish out this roll exclusively with Harris. It’ll be easier to refer to later.”
She made some more notes, started the tape, and went on, describing the town, the small country club, and some of his friends. We began to near the end of the roll.
“He has a fast, aggressive way of walking. He won’t admit it, but he can’t carry liquor very well. Becomes argumentative if he has too much, which is usually anything beyond the third Martini. Music means nothing to him, and he’s a poor dancer. For the past two years on these annual fishing trips he’s picked up girls, probably very young ones. He doesn’t know that I’m aware of this, but I doubt he’d have bothered to he about it. After all, we weren’t married.
“Maybe it’s because of the legal training and courtroom experience, but he’s totally unafraid of scenes and will argue with anybody, anywhere. Waiters impress him not at all, and I’ve been through some bad moments when he’s sent the same dish back three times, or refused to tip a waiter who gave poor service. I don’t mean he’s loudmouthed or uncouth, but he is demanding and perhaps rather insensitive. He always adds up a bill before he pays it. He buys a new Cadillac every year. He’s a very poor driver, and drives far too fast. He’s very self-assured with women, the same as you are. You’ll have no trouble playing him. When they describe you afterwards, if you learn all this, they’re going to be describing Harris Chapman to the last gesture.”
She stopped the machine, and stood up. “All right. Re-roll that tape and start playing it back. I’ll run out and get us some sandwiches.”
“Incidentally, what about the housekeeping arrangements? Do we go out for dinner?”
“Yes,” she replied. “It’ll be all right if we go round to different places so we won’t be remembered. We can fix our own coffee and orange juice for breakfast, and have sandwiches for lunch.”
“You turned the car back?”
“Yes. After all, I’m supposed to be in Nassau. You’ll rent one, of course, before he gets here, but in the meantime we can use cabs. All right, Jerry; re-roll that tape and get busy.”
She went into the bedroom. I started the tape, turned up the volume, and walked up and down as I listened to it. The bedroom door was open. I stepped inside. The blue pajamas were tossed casually on the bed and she was beyond it with her back turned, wearing only bra and pants as she stood before the clothes closet. I looked at the long and exquisitely slender legs, ever so faintly tanned below the line of her swim suit and pure ivory above as they flowed into the triangular wisp of undergarment about her hips.
She turned then. I must have taken a step towards her, for she said crisply, “No, you don’t! Outside!” She meant it. She took a slip from a drawer, and slid it over her head.
“I’m sorry, Teacher. But you’re a very exciting
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