Read Online The Dud Avocado by Elaine Dundy - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Elaine Dundy
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his dinner jacket and murmuring Forgive-me-my-dear-for-stooping-to-symbolism, he tosses the flower into his highball and drowns it with a squirt of the soda syphon. So you know what I mean?
That’s
the sort of thing I brought myself up on. I mean that’s more like it.
I mean how
can
Life be so contrary to—never mind Art—just to general information and what’s called Common Knowledge? And how the devil did our roles get reversed like this, with me playing the Fatale and he the … well, whatever you call it. I don’t know. It was too much for me.
And what was this plan all about? Was I meant to supplant the old mistress in the setup of his hierarchy—or to open another branch of the establishment?
Lost in our separate thoughts, we hardly talked to each other on the way back.
Considering the amount of time I had spent there on and off for about three months, it is amazing that I have practically no recollection at all of Teddy’s apartment. It wasn’t his real home, you see. It was just a very small
pied-à-terre
, and he kept it of course for only one reason. Frightfully suave, and mature, and expensive, and I admit to having been breathlessly impressed by it at first. But after a while I found that if I ever thought about it for long it always made me laugh. I wonder what there is about deception, I suppose I mean discretion (do I?), when it gets organized to the hilt like that, that always makes me laugh?
Anyway this Organization was just off the rue de Rivoli anddo you know I can’t even remember the name of the street? Let’s see, as you turn off the rue de Rivoli first there is the American Embassy (where I was later to spend so many frenzied hours), then—hah—wait a minute, it’s all coming back with a whoosh … the rue Boissy d’Anglas, of course! It was on the second floor and it had a large window that looked out onto the street. Only there wasn’t much to look out at. There wasn’t much to look in at, either, for that matter. It was businesslike as hell. It consisted of two rooms, the main one and a tiny kitchenette leading off it. The main room had a dining-room table, a large red leather sofa, a few shelves for a very few books, a phonograph for a very few records, a radio, a coffee table, a drink cabinet —and a divan. Tout comfort. Stripped for action and strictly anonymous.
We arrived in full sail, Teddy fumbling with every latchkey in sight and me racing from minuterie to minuterie to keep the stairs in a blaze of 40-watt bulbs. Even when we got inside I didn’t stop. I turned on every light I could find (there weren’t very many) and then headed straight for the sofa. I didn’t sit in it, though. I sat primly on one of the arms and refused a drink. Also I began tapping my feet.
“Do you mind if I have a drink myself?” he asked.
I nodded assent.
At long last he stood before me, his drink in hand and a certain look on his face. With his free hand he reached for mine. It was so entirely
expected
(even though he had promised not to touch me), and I just lost my head. I jumped up and with a sudden movement knocked the drink out of his hand. I’d been saying to myself poise, baby, poise, all this while, but I simply couldn’t help it. I really frightened us both.
“Don’t touch me!” I said.
“I am sorry.” This very humbly.
I remember all this part so very clearly. And I remember a little later wondering why things always turn out to be diametrically opposed to what you expect them to be. It’s no good even trying to predict what this opposite will be because it always fools you and turns out to be the opposite of
that
, if you seewhat I mean. If you think this is geometrically impossible all I can say is that you don’t know my life.
I mean never in a million years could I have worked out what he was going to say to me next. There was his glass lying on the floor, the drink seeping into the carpet. He bent down to pick it up and he noticed an ice cube on the carpet
That’s
the sort of thing I brought myself up on. I mean that’s more like it.
I mean how
can
Life be so contrary to—never mind Art—just to general information and what’s called Common Knowledge? And how the devil did our roles get reversed like this, with me playing the Fatale and he the … well, whatever you call it. I don’t know. It was too much for me.
And what was this plan all about? Was I meant to supplant the old mistress in the setup of his hierarchy—or to open another branch of the establishment?
Lost in our separate thoughts, we hardly talked to each other on the way back.
Considering the amount of time I had spent there on and off for about three months, it is amazing that I have practically no recollection at all of Teddy’s apartment. It wasn’t his real home, you see. It was just a very small
pied-à-terre
, and he kept it of course for only one reason. Frightfully suave, and mature, and expensive, and I admit to having been breathlessly impressed by it at first. But after a while I found that if I ever thought about it for long it always made me laugh. I wonder what there is about deception, I suppose I mean discretion (do I?), when it gets organized to the hilt like that, that always makes me laugh?
Anyway this Organization was just off the rue de Rivoli anddo you know I can’t even remember the name of the street? Let’s see, as you turn off the rue de Rivoli first there is the American Embassy (where I was later to spend so many frenzied hours), then—hah—wait a minute, it’s all coming back with a whoosh … the rue Boissy d’Anglas, of course! It was on the second floor and it had a large window that looked out onto the street. Only there wasn’t much to look out at. There wasn’t much to look in at, either, for that matter. It was businesslike as hell. It consisted of two rooms, the main one and a tiny kitchenette leading off it. The main room had a dining-room table, a large red leather sofa, a few shelves for a very few books, a phonograph for a very few records, a radio, a coffee table, a drink cabinet —and a divan. Tout comfort. Stripped for action and strictly anonymous.
We arrived in full sail, Teddy fumbling with every latchkey in sight and me racing from minuterie to minuterie to keep the stairs in a blaze of 40-watt bulbs. Even when we got inside I didn’t stop. I turned on every light I could find (there weren’t very many) and then headed straight for the sofa. I didn’t sit in it, though. I sat primly on one of the arms and refused a drink. Also I began tapping my feet.
“Do you mind if I have a drink myself?” he asked.
I nodded assent.
At long last he stood before me, his drink in hand and a certain look on his face. With his free hand he reached for mine. It was so entirely
expected
(even though he had promised not to touch me), and I just lost my head. I jumped up and with a sudden movement knocked the drink out of his hand. I’d been saying to myself poise, baby, poise, all this while, but I simply couldn’t help it. I really frightened us both.
“Don’t touch me!” I said.
“I am sorry.” This very humbly.
I remember all this part so very clearly. And I remember a little later wondering why things always turn out to be diametrically opposed to what you expect them to be. It’s no good even trying to predict what this opposite will be because it always fools you and turns out to be the opposite of
that
, if you seewhat I mean. If you think this is geometrically impossible all I can say is that you don’t know my life.
I mean never in a million years could I have worked out what he was going to say to me next. There was his glass lying on the floor, the drink seeping into the carpet. He bent down to pick it up and he noticed an ice cube on the carpet
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