Read Online Baby Is Three by Theodore Sturgeon - Free Book Online Page A

say something, and apparently couldn’t find it. He went to the door, turned back. “Will you come for dinner tonight?” I hesitated. He said, “Please. I’d appreciate it.”
    I cocked an eyebrow. “Answer me straight, Jud. Is dinner your idea or Flower’s?”
    He laughed embarrassedly. “Damn it, you always see too much. Mine … sort of … I mean, it isn’t that she dislikes you, but … well, hell, I want the two of you to be friends, and I think you’d understand her, and me too, a lot better if you made the effort.”
    I could think of things I’d much rather do than have dinner with Flower. A short swim in boiling oil, for example. I looked up at his anxious face. Oh, hell. “I’d love to,” I said. “Around eight?”
    “Fine! Gee,” he said, like a school kid. “Gee, thanks.” He shuffled, not knowing whether to go right away or not. “Hey,” he said suddenly. “You sent out a call for me. What’s this project you wanted me for?”
    “Nothing, Jud,” I said tiredly. “I’ve … changed my mind. See you later, son.”
    The dinner was something special. Steaks. Jud had broiled them himself. I got the idea that he’d selected them, too, and set the table. It was Flower, though, who got me something to sit on. She looked me over, slowly and without concealing it, went to the table, pulled the light formed-aluminum chair away, and dragged over a massive relaxer. She then smiled straight at me. A little unnecessary, I thought; I’m bulky, but those aluminum chairs have always held up under me so far.
    I won’t give it to you round by round. The meal passed with Flower either in a sullen silence or manufacturing small brittle whipsof conversation. When she was quiet, Jud tried to goad her into talking. When she talked, he tried to turn the conversation away from me. The occasion, I think, was a complete success—for Flower. For Jud it must have been hell. For me—well, it was interesting.
    Item: Flower poked and prodded at her steak, and when she got a lull in the labored talk Jud and I were squeezing out, she began to cut meticulously around the edges of the steak. “If there is anything I can’t stand the sight or the smell of,” she said clearly, “it’s fat.”
    Item: She said, “Oh, Lord” this and “Lord sakes” that in a drawl that made it come out “Lard” every time.
    Item: I sneezed once. She whipped a tissue over to me swiftly and politely enough, and then said “Render unto sneezers …” which stood as a cute quip until she nudged her husband and said,
“Render!”
at which point things got real hushed.
    Item: When she had finished, she leaned back and sighed. “If I ate like that all the time, I’d be a big as—” She looked straight at me and stopped. Jud, flushing miserably, tried to kick her under the table; I know, because it was me he kicked. Flower finished, “—as big as a lifeboat.” But she kept looking at me, easily and insultingly.
    Item—You get the idea. All I can say for myself is that I got through it all. I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of driving me out until I’d had all she could give me. I wouldn’t be overtly angry, because if I did, she’d present me to Jud ever after as the man who hated her. If Jud ever had wit enough, this evening could be remembered as the time she was insufferably insulting, and that was all I wanted.
    It was over at last, and I made my excuses as late as I possibly could without staying overnight. As I left, she took Jud’s arm and held it tight until I was out of sight, thereby removing the one chance he had to come along a little way and apologize to me.
    He didn’t get close enough to speak to me for four days, and when he did, I had the impression that he had lied to be there, that Flower thought he was somewhere else. He said rapidly, “About the other night, you mustn’t think that—”
    And I cut him off as gently and firmly as I could: “I understand it perfectly, Jud. Think a