Read Online Some Can Whistle by Larry McMurtry - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Larry McMurtry
Ads: Link
said. “It’s that feeling you get when you realize you’re kinda missing out on life.”
“I often get that feeling,” I admitted. I was beginning to like the young nurse, but Godwin merely looked perplexed. I don’t think he could imagine missing out on life.
“A little book on Catullus can’t hurt you,” he insisted. “It received excellent reviews.”
“Naw, you keep it,” the girl said, squinting briefly up his nose. “I’m gonna give you some cotton to take with you, but I don’t think you’ll need it. You ought to be coagulatin’ any time.”
17
“You haven’t changed a bit,” I said to Godwin as we drove hopelessly around Arlington—hopelessly because municipal Arlington contains one of the largest numbers of suburban cul-de-sacs west of the Mississippi. Once you penetrated far enough into that city it was almost impossible to find your way out without a native guide: cul-de-sac followed cul-de-sac in an intricate but discouraging procession.
The detached part of me that hoped to become a meticulous travel writer some day made itself a mental note to write a travel article called “Arlington: City of Cul-de-Sacs”; meanwhile the fatigued part of me that had been twenty-three (now twenty-five) hours getting home from Cairo grew depressed at the thought that I had flown around the world only to get profoundly lost one hundred miles from my home. Fort Worth lay only fifteen miles to the west, Dallas fifteen to the east. If I could catch a glimpse of either skyline I felt sure I could rapidly extricate myself from the maze I was in, but I couldn’t see a building in any direction taller than the millions of ugly two-story houses that fill greater Arlington. Night had fallen while we were in the hospital, and at night everything in Arlington looked alike.
Another cul-de-sac I was failing to extricate myself from—a moral one, in this instance—was the presence of Godwin Lloyd-Jons. He had coagulated, just as the young nurse predicted, but he showed no sign of being the least bit interested in fending for himself. He also showed no sign of having changed a bit in the twenty-two years since I’d last seen him.
“Why are we driving around this ugly town?” he asked, somewhat insolently. “I’d like to go to a bar. I need a drink. That young nurse was extraordinarily rude to me.”
“She wasn’t rude, she just didn’t find you attractive,” I said. My fatigue was beginning to open a tunnel deep into my memory—many horrible things that this same little man had done, mostly things involving my then wife, were beginning to hop around like crickets at the bottom of the tunnel.
“I feel sure she would have liked my book, though,” Godwin said wistfully. “It might have disposed her to be kind to me.”
“You’re far too old for her, and anyway your chances of seducing her were nil,” I pointed out unkindly, as we emerged from about the eightieth cul-de-sac of the night.
Then a glimmer of hope appeared, in the form of lights in the sky. The lights belonged to airplanes, descending in graceful sequence into the great airport we had just left.
“Look, the airport’s over there,” I said. “If I just go toward the planes we’ll eventually get out of here.”
“I’m sure she would have been kind to me in time,” Godwin said, his mind still on the nurse with the silver eyelids. “It was your presence that threw things off. You’re very sulky now, Daniel, quite sulky. I suppose it’s because you’ve grown fat.”
“Where’s your car, Godwin?” I asked. “I want to take you to your car.”
“I’m afraid I lent it to a friend,” he said. “I think he planned on touring Seattle, or some place near Alaska.”
It was exactly what I didn’t want to hear.
“So where were you planning to go?” I asked.
“I never plan, it’s so middle class,” he said. “Why won’t you take me to a bar?”
“Godwin, I just flew in from Cairo,” I said. “I want to go home.
“I often get that feeling,” I admitted. I was beginning to like the young nurse, but Godwin merely looked perplexed. I don’t think he could imagine missing out on life.
“A little book on Catullus can’t hurt you,” he insisted. “It received excellent reviews.”
“Naw, you keep it,” the girl said, squinting briefly up his nose. “I’m gonna give you some cotton to take with you, but I don’t think you’ll need it. You ought to be coagulatin’ any time.”
17
“You haven’t changed a bit,” I said to Godwin as we drove hopelessly around Arlington—hopelessly because municipal Arlington contains one of the largest numbers of suburban cul-de-sacs west of the Mississippi. Once you penetrated far enough into that city it was almost impossible to find your way out without a native guide: cul-de-sac followed cul-de-sac in an intricate but discouraging procession.
The detached part of me that hoped to become a meticulous travel writer some day made itself a mental note to write a travel article called “Arlington: City of Cul-de-Sacs”; meanwhile the fatigued part of me that had been twenty-three (now twenty-five) hours getting home from Cairo grew depressed at the thought that I had flown around the world only to get profoundly lost one hundred miles from my home. Fort Worth lay only fifteen miles to the west, Dallas fifteen to the east. If I could catch a glimpse of either skyline I felt sure I could rapidly extricate myself from the maze I was in, but I couldn’t see a building in any direction taller than the millions of ugly two-story houses that fill greater Arlington. Night had fallen while we were in the hospital, and at night everything in Arlington looked alike.
Another cul-de-sac I was failing to extricate myself from—a moral one, in this instance—was the presence of Godwin Lloyd-Jons. He had coagulated, just as the young nurse predicted, but he showed no sign of being the least bit interested in fending for himself. He also showed no sign of having changed a bit in the twenty-two years since I’d last seen him.
“Why are we driving around this ugly town?” he asked, somewhat insolently. “I’d like to go to a bar. I need a drink. That young nurse was extraordinarily rude to me.”
“She wasn’t rude, she just didn’t find you attractive,” I said. My fatigue was beginning to open a tunnel deep into my memory—many horrible things that this same little man had done, mostly things involving my then wife, were beginning to hop around like crickets at the bottom of the tunnel.
“I feel sure she would have liked my book, though,” Godwin said wistfully. “It might have disposed her to be kind to me.”
“You’re far too old for her, and anyway your chances of seducing her were nil,” I pointed out unkindly, as we emerged from about the eightieth cul-de-sac of the night.
Then a glimmer of hope appeared, in the form of lights in the sky. The lights belonged to airplanes, descending in graceful sequence into the great airport we had just left.
“Look, the airport’s over there,” I said. “If I just go toward the planes we’ll eventually get out of here.”
“I’m sure she would have been kind to me in time,” Godwin said, his mind still on the nurse with the silver eyelids. “It was your presence that threw things off. You’re very sulky now, Daniel, quite sulky. I suppose it’s because you’ve grown fat.”
“Where’s your car, Godwin?” I asked. “I want to take you to your car.”
“I’m afraid I lent it to a friend,” he said. “I think he planned on touring Seattle, or some place near Alaska.”
It was exactly what I didn’t want to hear.
“So where were you planning to go?” I asked.
“I never plan, it’s so middle class,” he said. “Why won’t you take me to a bar?”
“Godwin, I just flew in from Cairo,” I said. “I want to go home.
Similar Books
