"Dick,_Philip_K._Confessions of a Crap Artist" - читать интересную книгу автора (Dick Phillip K)

"They're sweet people," Mary said. "They've been coming up to Inverness for years, but now they're renting a house all year round. They were just summer people; that's why you never saw them. You know how summer people are; they spend all their time at McClure's Beach." And then she gave it to me right between the eyes. I had no warning whatsoever. "Apparently you didn't make too much of a hit with him," Mary said.
"Why?" I said, on my guard and apprehensive. I started, at once, to have hot and cold flashes. "They seemed to be enjoying themselves -- we put ourselves out trying to make them comfortable. And good god, we practically picked them up off the street."
"She likes you," Mary said. "And I think he does, too. What he said was, if I can remember it exactly... something about you striking him as being a bossy person." She added, "Actually he came out and said he didn't particularly care for you."
"Well, we argued about history," I said, feeling the back of my neck boil with heat. "Possibly he resents the idea of a woman discussing his pet subject with him."
We talked about various trifles, and then I rang off. As soon as the connection was broken I dialed the operator and got the Anteils' number. I dialed them, seated on the bed and seeing my hands shaking. In fact I was trembling all over with indignation and a variety of other emotions that I did not have time to decipher.
The boy himself answered. "Hello."
"Listen," I said, trying to keep my voice calm. It seems to me that I did keep it calm, too. "Maybe I just don't understand the masculine mind, but in my book anybody who talks about another person behind his back but doesn't have the integrity to come out to their face and say what he thinks--" I had trouble winding up what I had to say. "Didn't we treat you hospitably?" I demanded, and at that point my voice broke.
"Who is this?" Anteil said.
"This is Fay Hume."
After a pause, Anteil said, "Evidently some inadvertent remarks made in conversation got carried back to you."
"Yes," I said, breathing with difficulty and trying to keep the racket from being picked up by the phone.
"Mrs. Hume," he said in a slow, somber voice, "I'm sorry you're so upset. Let me assure you that it's needless."
"It's upsetting," I said, "to have somebody go through the motions of pretending to enjoy your hospitality, and then talk about you. Do you object if I try to talk to you in your own terms? I took a history minor; I like to discuss Rome. I may not be competent to discuss it, but--"
"This is difficult to discuss over the phone," Anteil broke in. "Well, what do you propose?" I said. "Frankly, I'm not particularly interested in discussing it with you; I just wanted to acquaint you with my feelings." At that point I hung up.
Almost at once I felt, acutely, that I was a hysterical nut. They shouldn't trust you with the phone, I said to myself. Getting up from the bed I paced around the bedroom. Now it'll get all over town, I realized. Fay Hume calls up some people in Point Reyes and naves like a drunk. That's what they'll say: I was drunk. Sheriff Chisholm will be by to take me away. Maybe I ought to phone him myself and eliminate the middleman.
I did not know what to do, but I had the keen insight that I had left it at a bad point, that someone had to do something. And here I was, the hostess, the woman of this quite outstanding house, placing a vast emphasis on providing people with a meal and conversation they would remember... a few incidents like this and I could forget considering myself hostess to anybody. What a faux pas. You're just a child, a two-year-old, I told myself. Worse than Elsie on Bonnie. Even the dog has more self-control, more diplomacy.
That night Gwen Anteil appeared at the front door. Charley and I were doing the dishes; the children had gone off to watch tv. "I'm sorry to bother you," Gwen said in her sweet but somewhat hollow fashion. "May I come in for a moment?" Her bike was propped up at the edge of the porch, and she had on capri pants and a sweatshirt. Her hair was tied back and her face was flushed, probably from the bikeriding.
"Come in," Charley said. I hadn't told him about either Many's call or mine to Anteil, so for a moment I floundered; I knew at once that Gwen's visit had to do with the business between me and her husband, and I knew that this was going to be difficult. I had to get rid of Charley, so I said,
"Honey, there's something we have to discuss that doesn't concern you." Putting my hand on his shoulder I propelled him away, in the direction of his study. "You leave us alone for awhile. Okay?" And before he realized what had happened, I had gotten him into his study and was shutting the door after him.
Sullenly, he said, "You god damn women and your women's subjects." But already he had started switching on his desk lamp. "Did she come alone?" he said. "If Nat shows up, send him on in." He was starting to complain some more, but I closed the door after him, and, turning to Gwen, forgot about him.
"I owe your husband an apology," I said to her.
Gwen said, "That's what I'm here about. Nat is terribly disturbed that something he said could cause you distress. You both were so nice to us the other day when we were over." She made no move to sit down but stood by the door, like a school child, reciting her set piece. "I didn't tell him I was coming over to patch it up," she said. "It's just one of those things that a third party can blow up if they want all out of proportion. Nat likes both you and your husband, and he's desperately concerned to get this out of the way." She added, "I told him I was going to visit the McRaes. I think you know them."
"Yes," I said absentmindedly. I was trying to figure out if he had sent her, or if this was her idea. If it was her idea, then he might not care so much about making amends; it might merely seem to her that in such a rural area, with so few families, no one could afford a social hiatus of this sort, especially a new couple that had just moved in and was trying to get established and accepted by the people already here. After all, their whole social life depended on healing up a rift of this sort; I could afford to drop them, but could they afford to drop the Humes? Thoughts of that kind certainly had entered this girl's mind; I could see it written all over her rather fatuous face. "I'm quite happy to stay on good terms with your husband," I said. "I think he's headstrong and too wrapped up in himself and what he thinks, but you're both marvelous people. It was just a misunderstanding." I smiled at her.
But instead of smiling back, Gwen said, "I think you should be careful not to lord it over people just because you have a big house." And without another word she stalked out of the house, got on her bike, put on her headlight, and rode off.
Good god.
I stayed in the doorway, staring after her, wondering who was crazy, she or I. Then I ran, got my purse, ran down to the Buick, hopped in, started up the motor, and drove after her. Sure enough, there she was, peddling along the road for all she was worth. Pulling up beside her and going at the same speed as she, I leaned out and called,
"What in god's name did I do now?"
Saying nothing, merely peddling, she kept on.
"Look," I said. "This is a small town and we all have to be on good terms. You'll find it's not like the city; you can't be so choosy. Now what did I say? I don't get it."
After a time Gwen said, "Just go back to your big house."
"You know you're welcome in my house," I said.
"Sure," she said.
"You are," I said. "Honest to god you are. What do I have to do to prove it to you? Do I have to get down on my knees and beg you to come back? Okay, if I have to I will. I beg you to come back and talk like an adult and stop acting like a child. What's the matter with you two, are you adults, a married couple, on are you a pair of children?" Now I had raised my voice. "This whole thing is too much for me," I called to her. "Why can't we be friends? I'm just crazy about you and your husband. How did all this dissension get started?"
After a long time Gwen said, "Well, maybe we're both too sensitive about looking so young."
"God!" I said. "I wish I looked as young as you. I wish to heaven I looked so young. You're both adorable; you're like something from heaven. We never saw such a beautiful couple before. I'd like to hug both of you -- I wish I could adopt you or something. Please come back. Look," I said, driving as close to her bike as possible. "Let's go pick up your husband, and I'll drive you over to the Western and we'll have a seafood dinner. Have you had dinner? Or we'll go to the Drake's Arms and have dinner there. Please. Let me take you out to dinner. As a favor to me." I got my most wheedling tone.
Finally, she weakened. "You don't have to take us out to dinner."
"Have you ever been to the Drake's Arms? We'll play darts -- I tell you what: I'll challenge both of you, a dollar a game. I can beat anybody except Oko himself."
In the end she gave in. I loaded her bike into the back of the car and her into the front seat beside me -- she was steaming with perspiration from the exertion of biking -- and picked up speed. Now I felt happy, really happy, for the first time in months. I felt that I had genuinely accomplished something, breaking down the barriers and getting to these fine, handsome people who were so shy, so sensitive, so easily hurt. In my mind I swore an oath that I'd be more careful and not insult them in my usual big-footed way. Now that I had humbled -- in fact humiliated -- myself to recapture their friendliness, I did not want to throw it away.
And you know how you are, Fay, I said to myself. You know how your witless tongue gets you into trouble; you always say anything that comes into your mind, without any thought for the consequences.
"When you get to know me better," I told her, "you'll learn not to pay any attention to me. I'm a crude, vulgar person. I remember one day in the public library I said the word 'fuck' in front of a librarian. I could have died. I could have sunk through the floor. I never went back; I never could look at her again."
Gwen laughed slightly, I thought a little uneasily.
"I pick up language like that from Charley," I explained, and then I described his factory to her, how many men he employed, what he netted in a year. She seemed to be interested, to some extent at least.


(seven)

The ride up to their house in Marin County made me carsick, due to the sharp turns through Samuel P. Taylor Park. On each turn I thought Charley was going to leave the road. Both he and Fay knew the road so well that they knew exactly how far up they could push the gas pedal on each turn. One mile an hour more and the car would have gone off into the creek. At one time he hit sixty miles an hour. Most drivers would have had to take it at twenty-five, especially those weekend drivers who putter along. And Charley used the whole road, not just his lane; he went all the way over to the shoulder on the far side. He seemed to know whether a can was coming on not, even though I could see nothing but trees. Fay did not show any signs of nervousness, beside him in the front seat; in fact she seemed to be half-asleep.
But around me all my goods slid and rocked. What an odd sensation it was, to have them with me in motion, not back at the room. For all intents and purposes I had given up my room; now I was going to live with my sister and her husband, at their house -- I had no actual place of my own. It was like going back to childhood, and I felt depressed and uncomfortable. However, the scenery cheered me up. And I knew, from their description, what sort of a house it was; I knew that it was very swanky, with all the latest gadgets.
To keep my spirits up I thought of the animals. At one time during high school I had worked for a veterinarian, sweeping out, cleaning the cages, helping people bring their pets in from their cars, feeding the animals boarded there, getting rid of dead animals. I had enjoyed being around the animals. And long ago, when I was about eleven, I had spent a lot of time catching insects and making analyses of them. I had taken apart those giant yellow slugs. I used to catch flies and hang them from loops of thread... however the weight of the fly's body was usually too slight to close the noose, so I had usually had to pull down on the fly. At that point the fly's eyes would pop from his head and his head would come off.
When we arrived at the house Charley helped me carry my boxes of possessions indoors and to a room in the rear that they had decided to present me for my use. Evidently they had used it for storage; we had to carry out one armload after another of garden tools, children's discarded games and toys, even a bed that the collie dog had spent time in.