"No," she said slowly. "No, the blues are because youre getting fat or maybe itsbeen raining too long. Youre sad, thats all. But the mean reds are horrible. Youreafraid and you sweat like hell, but you dont know what youre afraid of. Exceptsomething bad is going to happen, only you dont know what it is. Youve had thatfeeling?"
Freds good with horses."
"Thank God."
I held back while my mind worked to win a postponement. Then I remembered:"Why Traveling?"
"I want you to behave, Rusty." She spoke softly, but there was a governess threatof punishment in her tone that caused an odd flush of pleasure, of gratitude, to pinkhis face.
"Well, if it were true of most men, Id hardly be thanking God."
She lifted an eyebrow. "By the way, Im not pretending I dont know hes rich.
She shrugged. "After all, how do I know where Ill be living tomorrow? So I toldthem to put Traveling. Anyway, it was a waste of money, ordering those cards.
"I meant thank God youre not going to marry Mr. Trawler."
"Quite often. Some people call it angst."
"Well, then break it up. Lets go."
"I told you: you can make yourself love anybody. Besides, he had a stinkingchildhood."
Rusty Trawler came carrying a martini; he handed it over without looking at me.
An occurrence at the door intervened. It was a young woman, and she enteredlike a wind-rush, a squall of scarves and jangling gold. "H-H-Holly," she said,wagging a finger as she advanced, "you miserable h-h-hoarder. Hogging all thesesimply r-r-riveting m-m-men!"
"All right. Angst. But what do you do about it?"
"But that doesnt mean sweet and sour spareribs. You know what the doctor said."
"Use your head. Cant you see its just that Rusty feels safer in diapers than hewould in a skirt? Which is really the choice, only hes awfully touchy about it. He triedto stab me with a butter knife because I told him to grow up and face the issue,settle down and play house with a nice fatherly truck driver. Meantime, Ive got himon my hands; which is okay,hes harmless, he thinks girls are dolls, literally."
"Yes, Rusty. I know what the doctor said."
"If it was so stinking, why does he cling to it?"
Even land in Mexico costs something. Now," she said, motioning me forward, "letsget hold of O.J."
She patted him. "Tend to your chores, Rusty. And when Im ready, well go eatwherever you want."
Obviously shed said what he wanted to hear; it appeared to both excite and relaxhim. Still he continued, as though it were a ritual: "Do you love me?"
"Same as the blues?"
As he returned to his duties with a satisfied waddle, I couldnt resist reminding herthat she hadnt answered his question. "Do you love him?"
She was still hugging the cat. "Poor slob," she said, tickling his head, "poor slobwithout a name. Its a little inconvenient, his not having a name. But I havent anyright to give him one: hell have to wait until he belongs to somebody. We just sortof took up by the river one day, we dont belong to each other: hes an independent,and so am I. I dont want to own anything until I know Ive found the place whereme and things belong together. Im not quite sure where that is just yet. But I knowwhat its like." She smiled, and let the cat drop to the floor. "Its like Tiffanys," shesaid. "Not that I give a hoot about jewelry. Diamonds, yes. But its tacky to weardiamonds before youre forty; and even thats risky. They only look right on thereally old girls. Maria Ouspenskaya. Wrinkles and bones, white hair and diamonds: Icant wait. But thats not why Im mad about Tiffanys. Listen. You know those dayswhen youve got the mean reds?"
She reached for my martini, I hadnt touched it; she drained it in two swallows, andtook my hand. "Quit stalling. Youre going to make friends with O.J."
"Well, a drink helps."
"You dont love me," he complained, as though they were alone."Nobody loves naughtiness."
You know what the doctor said."
Except I felt I owed it to them to buy some little something. Theyre from Tiffanys."
"Ive tried that. Ive tried aspirin, too. Rusty thinks I should smoke marijuana, andI did for a while, but it only makes me giggle. What Ive found does the most good isjust to get into a taxi and go to Tiffanys. It calms me down right away, thequietness and the proud look of it; nothing very bad could happen to you there, notwith those kind men in their nice suits, and that lovely smell of silver and alligatorwallets. If I could find a real-life place that made me feel like Tiffanys, then Id buysome furniture and give the cat a name. Ive thought maybe after the war, Fred andI -- " She pushed up her dark glasses, and her eyes, the differing colors of them, thegrays and wisps of blue and green, had taken on a far-seeing sharpness. "I went toMexico once. Its wonderful country for raising horses. I saw one place near the sea.
"On my card?" she said, disconcerted. "You think its funny?"
"Chinatown?"
"Im hungry," he announced, and his voice, retarded as the rest of him, produced anunnerving brat-whine that seemed to blame Holly. "Its seven-thirty, and Im hungry.
"Not funny. Just provocative."
