Read Online Another Marvelous Thing by Laurie Colwin - Free Book Online

said, in which the lovers leave a Chinese restaurant, as they did now, when they thought a rainstorm had let up, only to find themselves pressed together in the doorway of an Oriental grocery store, penned in by what looked like a monsoon. Francis could see the raindrops on Billy’s face, and he would see them many times again, just as he frequently conjured her up putting on her shabby clothes or standing under a ginkgo tree in autumn and letting the yellow, fan-shaped leaves drift past her shoulders.
    Billy was half asleep in the car on the way home. Love was full of shadows. Even a child of three knew that the illicit lover and his wife were stand-ins for the mother and father. She looked over groggily at Francis. He did not remind her of her father. She yawned and squirmed. She longed to be home alone in her rightful bed with her head pressed against Grey’s pillow and to go to sleep as if she were innocent again and the way before her was straight as a shot arrow.
    Grey was due back Friday afternoon, and Vera on Saturday at noon. On Thursday morning the sky cleared and after a week of clouds and rain, the sun came out. Francis appeared at Billy’s door with a bouquet of flowers in green florist’s tissue.
    â€œIt’s too beautiful to stay indoors,” he said.
    â€œIs ‘stay indoors’ a euphemism for going upstairs and have you throw yourself at me?”
    â€œWe’re going for a walk,” said Francis. “In your closet is a yellow dress with short sleeves. I’ll pay you to take off those repellent trousers and put that dress on.”
    Billy went upstairs obediently and changed her clothes. She knew from past experience that Francis had a reluctance, like Vera’s about sharing drinks, about sharing Billy the day his wife was about to return home. These niceties made less difference to Billy, who lived with her conflicted feelings as if they had been a broken leg.
    When she got downstairs, Francis was reading her mail—he did this every chance he got.
    â€œThe Medieval Society,” he said, holding up a pamphlet. “The telephone bill. Why don’t you ever get any interesting mail? What’s this?” He picked up an air letter, clearly from Grey, which Billy plucked from his fingers.
    â€œThis is my interesting mail,” she said. “Let’s go.”
    They drove to an out-of-the-way park they had discovered quite early in their love affair.
    â€œWhat an entertainment you are,” said Francis as Billy yawned next to him. Billy was exhausted. She had been with Francis every day and it made her feel as if she had been living in the weird atmosphere of another planet—like a ghost dog from outer space. Gesture, nuance, feeling, poignancy—how draining these things were!
    The air in the park was perfectly still. The sun poured down.
    â€œMaybe we should knock it off for a while,” said Billy as they walked to the park gate.
    â€œA first,” Francis said. “A breakup in nice weather. Do you remember the first time we came here?”
    Billy remembered. It had been winter and the park lay under snow. The cardinals, starlings, and blue jays called from the bare trees. The great, gnarled mulberry tree had been gray and empty. The following June, Francis and Billy had taken a sun-bath near it and watched two Slavic ladies gathering ripe mulberries into a basket.
    Now the park was in its early blossom, blooming with pink and orange azalea. The dogwood and magnolia were out, and the path was scattered with petals. The scotch broom was covered with little waxy yellow flowers.
    They walked without speaking, each thinking a million things. Real life opened before them: their spouses home in their rightful places. In July and August, the Clemenses went to a house in the South of France. In August, Billy and Grey went to Maine.
    The next time Billy and Francis came to this park—although they might part for good and never come