Read Online Oh What a Paradise It Seems by John Cheever - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: John Cheever
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lovely woman on one’s lap as darkness fell from the wings of night was truly journey’s end. She was kissing him when the telephone rang and she left hislap to answer it. “I’ll be down in a few minutes,” she said. “The doorman will let you double-park.”
“What in hell was that?” said Sears.
“It was the man who’s going to drive me to the airport.”
She went into the hallway, where he heard her open a closet.
“Where are you going?” Sears demanded. “You haven’t told me you were going anywhere and you certainly haven’t behaved as if you were taking a plane.”
“You might have noticed that my suitcase is in the hallway. You always notice that sort of thing.”
“I’ve noticed that your hallway is always full of suitcases,” Sears shouted. “I’ve been stumbling over the damned things for months.”
“Well, would you like to help me to the elevator with my suitcase,” she asked, “or shall I ring for Eduardo?”
She stood in the doorway wearing a hat and a coat and pulling on her gloves. He felt himself approaching those bewildering spiritual mountains where he doubted the reality of his person and his world. He went into the hallway and picked up her bag. “Where in hell are you going?” he asked.
“I’m going back to Des Moines to see my daughter,” she said. “I must have told you but you’ve forgotten.” Eduardo, rather more like a custodial relative than a lover, regarded the suitcase, Sears’s face white with rage and Renée’s airs of a traveler with great composure. Sears’s only commitment was to wait for her on the sidewalk until the car had its door opened and to accept her goodbye kiss. “You don’t know the first thing about women,” she said. He did not look back in the lobby at Eduardo and went to a movie. Toscorn one’s world is despicable, he thought, and he would merely observe that the theatre he chose was nearly empty, that the film was about werewolves and that a man in the row ahead of him had brought his dinner to the theatre and ate it during the film. When the movie ended Sears returned to Renée’s house and found Eduardo in the lobby. He was pleased to see him as he would have been pleased to see a dear friend. “We’ve got to find something else we can do together,” he said. “Do you like to fish? Would you like to go fishing?”
“Sure I’d like to go fishing,” said Eduardo. “I’ve got some time coming, but I’ll have to check with the union about a replacement.”
“I know of a good bass pond upstate,” said Sears. “There used to be a decent inn there. Do you have any tackle?”
“I think I have a couple of bait-casting rods,” said Eduardo. “I’ll have to look. My sons may have taken them.”
“What do your sons do?” asked Sears.
“The youngest is a senior at Rutgers,” said Eduardo. “The oldest plays jazz piano in a place in Aspen. That’s in Colorado.”
“Well, goodnight,” said Sears. “We’ll work out something.”
“Goodnight.”
Ten days later in a rented car Sears and Eduardo headed north for a pond near the Canadian wilderness that Sears recalled having fished ten years ago, although his memorywas often mistaken and it might have been twenty years in the past or even longer. They left for the north on a rainy morning and this corresponded exactly to Sears’s sense of the fitness of things. Eduardo drove until they stopped somewhere for lunch and Sears then said, “I’ll drive.” Eduardo tossed him the keys, and as soon as he started north in the rain Eduardo fell asleep. Sears was terribly happy.
He drove north on route 774, which had, like any main thoroughfare, changed greatly in the last ten years. Sears was not disenchanted but he did observe what there was to be seen. They traveled through what had been a neighborhood of small dairy farms, where the acre and half-acre fields had been divided by stone walls and light stands of timber. There were a few churches and farmhouses
“What in hell was that?” said Sears.
“It was the man who’s going to drive me to the airport.”
She went into the hallway, where he heard her open a closet.
“Where are you going?” Sears demanded. “You haven’t told me you were going anywhere and you certainly haven’t behaved as if you were taking a plane.”
“You might have noticed that my suitcase is in the hallway. You always notice that sort of thing.”
“I’ve noticed that your hallway is always full of suitcases,” Sears shouted. “I’ve been stumbling over the damned things for months.”
“Well, would you like to help me to the elevator with my suitcase,” she asked, “or shall I ring for Eduardo?”
She stood in the doorway wearing a hat and a coat and pulling on her gloves. He felt himself approaching those bewildering spiritual mountains where he doubted the reality of his person and his world. He went into the hallway and picked up her bag. “Where in hell are you going?” he asked.
“I’m going back to Des Moines to see my daughter,” she said. “I must have told you but you’ve forgotten.” Eduardo, rather more like a custodial relative than a lover, regarded the suitcase, Sears’s face white with rage and Renée’s airs of a traveler with great composure. Sears’s only commitment was to wait for her on the sidewalk until the car had its door opened and to accept her goodbye kiss. “You don’t know the first thing about women,” she said. He did not look back in the lobby at Eduardo and went to a movie. Toscorn one’s world is despicable, he thought, and he would merely observe that the theatre he chose was nearly empty, that the film was about werewolves and that a man in the row ahead of him had brought his dinner to the theatre and ate it during the film. When the movie ended Sears returned to Renée’s house and found Eduardo in the lobby. He was pleased to see him as he would have been pleased to see a dear friend. “We’ve got to find something else we can do together,” he said. “Do you like to fish? Would you like to go fishing?”
“Sure I’d like to go fishing,” said Eduardo. “I’ve got some time coming, but I’ll have to check with the union about a replacement.”
“I know of a good bass pond upstate,” said Sears. “There used to be a decent inn there. Do you have any tackle?”
“I think I have a couple of bait-casting rods,” said Eduardo. “I’ll have to look. My sons may have taken them.”
“What do your sons do?” asked Sears.
“The youngest is a senior at Rutgers,” said Eduardo. “The oldest plays jazz piano in a place in Aspen. That’s in Colorado.”
“Well, goodnight,” said Sears. “We’ll work out something.”
“Goodnight.”
Ten days later in a rented car Sears and Eduardo headed north for a pond near the Canadian wilderness that Sears recalled having fished ten years ago, although his memorywas often mistaken and it might have been twenty years in the past or even longer. They left for the north on a rainy morning and this corresponded exactly to Sears’s sense of the fitness of things. Eduardo drove until they stopped somewhere for lunch and Sears then said, “I’ll drive.” Eduardo tossed him the keys, and as soon as he started north in the rain Eduardo fell asleep. Sears was terribly happy.
He drove north on route 774, which had, like any main thoroughfare, changed greatly in the last ten years. Sears was not disenchanted but he did observe what there was to be seen. They traveled through what had been a neighborhood of small dairy farms, where the acre and half-acre fields had been divided by stone walls and light stands of timber. There were a few churches and farmhouses
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