Lucy to be childishly vulnerable. Somewhere along the line, Lucy thought, I’ve forgotten what young men look like.
Jeff was squinting at a leaf in his hand. “All my life,” he said, “I’ve been on the hunt and I haven’t found one yet.”
“Found what yet?” Lucy asked.
“A four-leaf clover.” He tossed the leaf aside. “Do you think it’s significant?”
“Profoundly,” Lucy said.
“That’s what I think, too,” said Jeff. He sat down in a neat, economical, folding movement, holding his knees.
The narrow, flexible waists of young men, Lucy thought. She shook her head and picked up her book and stared at the page. “Everything turned out badly,” she read. “There were mosquitoes at Arles and when they got to Carcassone they discovered the water was turned off for the afternoon.”
“I want to know the conditions,” Jeff said.
“I’m reading,” said Lucy.
“Why’ve you avoided me for the last three days?” Jeff asked.
“I can’t wait to see how this book comes out,” said Lucy. “They are rich and young and beautiful and they travel all over Europe and their marriage is going on the rocks.”
“I asked you a question.”
“Have you ever been to Arles?” Lucy said.
“No,” said Jeff. “I haven’t been anywhere. Do you want to go to Arles with me?”
Lucy turned the page. “That’s why I’ve been avoiding you for three days,” she said. “If you keep saying things like that, I really think it might be better if you leave.” But even as she said it she knew she was thinking, Isn’t this pleasant, sitting here under a tree, listening to a young man talking foolishly like that, Do you want to go to Arles with me?
“I’m going to tell you something about yourself,” Jeff said.
“I’m trying to read,” Lucy said. “Don’t be rude.”
“You are letting yourself be wiped out,” Jeff said.
“What?” Lucy put down her book, surprised.
“By your husband,” he said. He stood up and talked down at her. “He’s got you locked in, stowed down, vaulted, stifled …”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Lucy said, all the more vehemently because from time to time she had said almost the same thing to Oliver in practically the same words. “You hardly even know him.”
“I know him, I know him,” Jeff said. “And if I didn’t know him, I’d know the type. My father has ten like him for friends and they’ve been in and out of my house since I was born. The holy, superior, soft-voiced, all-knowing, Ivy-League owners of the earth.”
“You haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about,” Lucy said.
“Don’t I, though?” Jeff began to stride restlessly back and forth in front of her. “I watched you all last August. I sat behind you in the movie house, I hung around the soda fountain when you came for ice cream. I pretended to be buying a magazine in the bookshop when you came into the circulating library. I rowed past here three times a day. I had my eye on you, I had my eye on you,” he chanted wildly. “Why do you think I came back here this summer?”
“Sssh,” Lucy said. “You’re making too much noise.”
“Nothing escaped me,” Jeff said melodramatically. “Nothing. Didn’t you even notice me?”
“No,” Lucy said.
“You see!” Jeff said loudly, as though he’d scored a point. “He’s put blinkers on you! Blinded you! You don’t even see anything except through those cold, filing-cabinet eyes.”
“Well, now,” Lucy said reasonably, hoping to calm Jeff down, “I don’t think it’s so unusual for a married woman of my age not to notice nineteen-year-old boys in drugstores.”
“Don’t call me a nineteen-year-old boy,” Jeff shouted in anguish. “And don’t call yourself a married woman of your age.”
“You are the most difficult boy,” Lucy said. She picked up her book again. “Now I’m going to read,” she said firmly.
“Go ahead and read.” Jeff crossed his arms and glared
Jeff was squinting at a leaf in his hand. “All my life,” he said, “I’ve been on the hunt and I haven’t found one yet.”
“Found what yet?” Lucy asked.
“A four-leaf clover.” He tossed the leaf aside. “Do you think it’s significant?”
“Profoundly,” Lucy said.
“That’s what I think, too,” said Jeff. He sat down in a neat, economical, folding movement, holding his knees.
The narrow, flexible waists of young men, Lucy thought. She shook her head and picked up her book and stared at the page. “Everything turned out badly,” she read. “There were mosquitoes at Arles and when they got to Carcassone they discovered the water was turned off for the afternoon.”
“I want to know the conditions,” Jeff said.
“I’m reading,” said Lucy.
“Why’ve you avoided me for the last three days?” Jeff asked.
“I can’t wait to see how this book comes out,” said Lucy. “They are rich and young and beautiful and they travel all over Europe and their marriage is going on the rocks.”
“I asked you a question.”
“Have you ever been to Arles?” Lucy said.
“No,” said Jeff. “I haven’t been anywhere. Do you want to go to Arles with me?”
Lucy turned the page. “That’s why I’ve been avoiding you for three days,” she said. “If you keep saying things like that, I really think it might be better if you leave.” But even as she said it she knew she was thinking, Isn’t this pleasant, sitting here under a tree, listening to a young man talking foolishly like that, Do you want to go to Arles with me?
“I’m going to tell you something about yourself,” Jeff said.
“I’m trying to read,” Lucy said. “Don’t be rude.”
“You are letting yourself be wiped out,” Jeff said.
“What?” Lucy put down her book, surprised.
“By your husband,” he said. He stood up and talked down at her. “He’s got you locked in, stowed down, vaulted, stifled …”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Lucy said, all the more vehemently because from time to time she had said almost the same thing to Oliver in practically the same words. “You hardly even know him.”
“I know him, I know him,” Jeff said. “And if I didn’t know him, I’d know the type. My father has ten like him for friends and they’ve been in and out of my house since I was born. The holy, superior, soft-voiced, all-knowing, Ivy-League owners of the earth.”
“You haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about,” Lucy said.
“Don’t I, though?” Jeff began to stride restlessly back and forth in front of her. “I watched you all last August. I sat behind you in the movie house, I hung around the soda fountain when you came for ice cream. I pretended to be buying a magazine in the bookshop when you came into the circulating library. I rowed past here three times a day. I had my eye on you, I had my eye on you,” he chanted wildly. “Why do you think I came back here this summer?”
“Sssh,” Lucy said. “You’re making too much noise.”
“Nothing escaped me,” Jeff said melodramatically. “Nothing. Didn’t you even notice me?”
“No,” Lucy said.
“You see!” Jeff said loudly, as though he’d scored a point. “He’s put blinkers on you! Blinded you! You don’t even see anything except through those cold, filing-cabinet eyes.”
“Well, now,” Lucy said reasonably, hoping to calm Jeff down, “I don’t think it’s so unusual for a married woman of my age not to notice nineteen-year-old boys in drugstores.”
“Don’t call me a nineteen-year-old boy,” Jeff shouted in anguish. “And don’t call yourself a married woman of your age.”
“You are the most difficult boy,” Lucy said. She picked up her book again. “Now I’m going to read,” she said firmly.
“Go ahead and read.” Jeff crossed his arms and glared
Similar Books
