174
PARTISAN REVIEW
These purists who put things on a higher plane! These great inhibi–
tors! Give me a good truck driver anytime. It ended the instant 1
walked in. I told myself, bracing myself, "Before I read all those
prefaces, I also led a life." But it was quick and terrible. All I kept
thinking was, "Not this again. It's vile. There has to be a better end–
ing." He started lightly making fun of me, then he started stiffening
my spine. He really cranked it today, saying I had a right to fight,
I'm five foot eight and I weigh a hundred and twelve pounds and 1
shouldn't let anybody scare me in the future . Not with my looks.
If
there is a future, I put in . He is as guiltless as a hurricane or a flood.
No bad intentions. Thirty days in Cuernavaca, I said. Sit in a chair
and fry . Like Dillinger. I'll return rested, jolly, and benevolent.
fn
go out and buy clothes . Find a new apartment . I'll get through. "Go
away. Just a couple of days. It does wonders. To one of those wind–
swept places off a cQast somewhere . A little trip to speed up recovery.
Try Guadeloupe. The best beaches in the world. The fish swim right
up, you can eat every meal on the beach, live there, have accommo–
dations there, the works . They haven't turned it into a condominium
yet. It's unspoiled, remote, innocent still. The food's supposed to be
as good as Paris. The jewel of the Caribbean. I think you have to go
by way of Martinique. Pan Am. A 747. The place to stay there is the
Caravelle ." "Sounds," I said, awed as always by his thoroughness,
"sounds like it might not be halfbad ." "The major secret oflife is," he
said . "Yes? The secret?" "Is emphasis. It's where you put the empha–
sis." I tried to forestall him with tact and control, something I'm not
known for. "I know," I said thoughtfully, "but so much energy goes
into personal unhappiness. It kind of takes it out of you ." "Lucidity,"
he said, "is more important than happiness, because there isn't any
perpetual happiness but there can be perpetual lucidity." "I agree
with you almost blindly," I said. "Stop grubbing on the bottom, word–
less and desperate, scared of your mother and all men and women.
At your age still hiding in the living room curtains." "It's true. My
mother gets me so fucked when I take her to lunch, I can't even
figure the percent on the bill." "Emotional stamina," he said, "you
must have it. Harriet Beecher Stowe," he told me, "had four children
and a sick husband and had to do the ironing besides ." China, 1
thought. Peking. Twenty-seven hours in the air and all those hairless
Chinese men. I can't see it. I'll be a piece of cantalope rind there too.
So I played my last, my only card - to stop this from happening and
leaving the hole it would leave . Never back off, be like him - just
pretend you're him, the tap root that winds around and around, an-
