324
LEONARD MICHAELS
Her expression was imperious. Her voice was irascible.
"I don't see the connection."
"There is one. Answer my question, Phillip. Didn't you like it?"
"I didn't like it, Nell."
"Are you being moral?"
"My only luxury."
"It's the luxury of poor, sad, uneducated people. I liked it very
much. Perhaps you're more fussy than moral."
She made an amused eyebrow and leaned back in the theater
of great class.
"I'm sure my husband may give you the job."
I forgot that she wheezed and didn't sweat right, and she saw
something like that in my face. Fresh color leaped into her bronze,
as if toward a gift I held. She was ready again. So was I, but I
didn't move. I couldn't predict tomorrow's feelings if I allowed no
forbearance. A man needn't be immoral to know that much. He
feels things. Her hand on mine. We stood up together. Pretending
to dance we drifted toward the zoo, both of us quivering with the
nastiness of our exchange. Sobs issued from the corner. Blows per–
sisted. She said, "One of those chaps is a plastic surgeon."
"Which one?"
I asked the question in a quiet, natural voice, just like hers, to
seem as ready as she for anything, even conversational drivel. And
I turned her slightly to face the corner. "Which one?"
"The bigger one. His name is Swoon. I'll introduce you to him
later, if you like. I've never seen him at a party where he doesn't
get into a fight."
"You've invited him here before?"
"Oh, God, yes, about fifty times. You and your wife are the
only ones who've never been here before. He killed a man in that
corner. February. Yes, it was February."
"Curious name."
"Silly. I mean he killed him in February."
She kissed my check. Stanger and Mildred receded through
hair, vapors of perfume, alcohol, and cigarettes, immobilized, beg–
ging for trouble. In the zoo I buggered Nell. She saw smears, said,
"Shit," and ran off to change.
