Read Online Children of Light by Robert Stone - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Robert Stone
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hand but instead placed it, all venous and liver-spotted, on his daughter-in-law’s caramel shoulder.
“Well,” Lionel declared, with a fatuous enthusiasm that chafed in his own hearing. “I’m certainly privileged to meet you, Mr. Drogue.”
“Yeah?” old Drogue asked.
“I was just spying out the way, you see. We haven’t been up here in the dark.”
“I’m glad you came,” Walter Drogue the younger said. He had descended to chin level in the whirling green water. “Give us a chance to rap informally. Just ourselves. What would you like to drink?”
Desperate as he was for escape, Lionel decided a drink might be welcome. And indeed there were things for him and Drogue to talk about apart from the general company. The presence of Patty and the old man would have to be endured.
“Well, I won’t say no,” declared Lionel affably. “If I could have a whiskey? A scotch?”
He had hardly spoken when Patty Drogue disengaged herself from the old man’s pawings and hurried into the bungalow.
“So,” Drogue junior said from the depths of his whirlpool, “couldn’t take it, huh?”
Lionel looked down at the immersed director and chose to conclude that he was being good-naturedly teased, as an outsider.
“Actually,” he said, “I’ve been enjoying myself enormously.”
When Patty Drogue came out again, she was carrying a tray heaped with bottles and glasses and shakers filled with ice. Lionel, to demonstrate an easy manner, took up a bottle of unblended scotch and poured himself an undiluted measure.
“That’s good,” the younger Drogue said. “It’s a pretty crazy way to pass whole weeks. Especially if you’re not really playing. As a rule, locations and spouses don’t mix.”
“We’ve been all right,” Lionel said. “I don’t think we’ve been in each other’s way, Lu and I.” He glanced across the pool and saw that both Patty and old Drogue had settled into pool chairs. Apparently no conversations went unwitnessed in this family circle. “And I see you bring Mrs. Drogue.” The whiskey was as smooth as good brandy. Lionel drank rarely but this glass warmed his blood.
Patty Drogue laughed. Her laughter had an unsettling edge, as though he had said something ridiculous.
“That’s true,” Walter said. He too seemed to be suppressing a secret hilarity. “I always bring Mrs. Drogue.”
Lionel assumed an expression of self-assured amusement to show that he could join in the fun.
“South Africa,” young Walter Drogue said, “South Africa’s easier to handle?”
Lionel held his smile.
“You have to understand that my parents live there. My mother got there from Europe in the very nick of time.” He was silent for a moment. “And of course they’re quite anxious to see their grandchildren. At their age they can’t count on too many visits.”
“I didn’t mean to put South Africa down, Lionel,” Walter said. “I mean—why should you carry the weight? You left, didn’t you? To practice here.”
Lionel was growing tense. He finished his drink, and before he had a thing to say about it, Patty Drogue brought him another.
“I left,” he said. “I suppose I could have stayed and joined the Resistance. I mean … friends of mine did. But my parents wanted us all to go. Myself and my sisters.”
“Your parents loom large in the picture, huh?”
“You should talk,” Patty Drogue said casually to her husband.
Walter junior shrugged good-naturedly. The older Drogue watched her with his blank cautious eyes.
“Silence, exile, cunning,” old man Drogue said from the shadows. “And you get to hear the bellyaches of rich Americans. Your parents should be proud of you.”
“Wherefore do we lecture Lionel?” Walter Drogue asked charitably. “We’ve been showing our films to segregated houses out there. We used to do it in our own South. We have plenty to answer for.”
“I realize that Mr. Drogue spent time in prison,” Lionel said, belching on his drink. He
“Well,” Lionel declared, with a fatuous enthusiasm that chafed in his own hearing. “I’m certainly privileged to meet you, Mr. Drogue.”
“Yeah?” old Drogue asked.
“I was just spying out the way, you see. We haven’t been up here in the dark.”
“I’m glad you came,” Walter Drogue the younger said. He had descended to chin level in the whirling green water. “Give us a chance to rap informally. Just ourselves. What would you like to drink?”
Desperate as he was for escape, Lionel decided a drink might be welcome. And indeed there were things for him and Drogue to talk about apart from the general company. The presence of Patty and the old man would have to be endured.
“Well, I won’t say no,” declared Lionel affably. “If I could have a whiskey? A scotch?”
He had hardly spoken when Patty Drogue disengaged herself from the old man’s pawings and hurried into the bungalow.
“So,” Drogue junior said from the depths of his whirlpool, “couldn’t take it, huh?”
Lionel looked down at the immersed director and chose to conclude that he was being good-naturedly teased, as an outsider.
“Actually,” he said, “I’ve been enjoying myself enormously.”
When Patty Drogue came out again, she was carrying a tray heaped with bottles and glasses and shakers filled with ice. Lionel, to demonstrate an easy manner, took up a bottle of unblended scotch and poured himself an undiluted measure.
“That’s good,” the younger Drogue said. “It’s a pretty crazy way to pass whole weeks. Especially if you’re not really playing. As a rule, locations and spouses don’t mix.”
“We’ve been all right,” Lionel said. “I don’t think we’ve been in each other’s way, Lu and I.” He glanced across the pool and saw that both Patty and old Drogue had settled into pool chairs. Apparently no conversations went unwitnessed in this family circle. “And I see you bring Mrs. Drogue.” The whiskey was as smooth as good brandy. Lionel drank rarely but this glass warmed his blood.
Patty Drogue laughed. Her laughter had an unsettling edge, as though he had said something ridiculous.
“That’s true,” Walter said. He too seemed to be suppressing a secret hilarity. “I always bring Mrs. Drogue.”
Lionel assumed an expression of self-assured amusement to show that he could join in the fun.
“South Africa,” young Walter Drogue said, “South Africa’s easier to handle?”
Lionel held his smile.
“You have to understand that my parents live there. My mother got there from Europe in the very nick of time.” He was silent for a moment. “And of course they’re quite anxious to see their grandchildren. At their age they can’t count on too many visits.”
“I didn’t mean to put South Africa down, Lionel,” Walter said. “I mean—why should you carry the weight? You left, didn’t you? To practice here.”
Lionel was growing tense. He finished his drink, and before he had a thing to say about it, Patty Drogue brought him another.
“I left,” he said. “I suppose I could have stayed and joined the Resistance. I mean … friends of mine did. But my parents wanted us all to go. Myself and my sisters.”
“Your parents loom large in the picture, huh?”
“You should talk,” Patty Drogue said casually to her husband.
Walter junior shrugged good-naturedly. The older Drogue watched her with his blank cautious eyes.
“Silence, exile, cunning,” old man Drogue said from the shadows. “And you get to hear the bellyaches of rich Americans. Your parents should be proud of you.”
“Wherefore do we lecture Lionel?” Walter Drogue asked charitably. “We’ve been showing our films to segregated houses out there. We used to do it in our own South. We have plenty to answer for.”
“I realize that Mr. Drogue spent time in prison,” Lionel said, belching on his drink. He
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