Heading South Read Online Free PDF Page B

was shaken . . . Of course she was, she had to have been, seventeen years old, beautiful as she is, and not a soul calling her at home except when they need help with their homework . . . Do you think that’s normal? What would you have me do? I had to take the bull by the horns! Now all I can do is wait and see . . . Yes, Françoise, wait. I’ve planted the seed, now I wait for it to bear fruit . . . Of course I’m worried, what do you think? She might decide to go out with four different boys at the same time. But I’d prefer that! I can’t sleep. All I hear is the time bomb ticking, and I try to guess when the damn thing is going to go off! You know, I see her when she’s a young woman indulging in fantasies in her bedroom. No, no, she has to get out, get some fresh air, meet some young men, enjoy herself, have fun, you know what I mean, it’s important for her to do that! Life is too absurd, Françoise, to be taken so seriously. I want her to let herself go (Christina begins to cry), get some kicks, be happy, enjoy life, gobble up everything that love has to offer (she sobs). That’s all I want for her. Go ahead and say it, all the things that I never had . . . Yes, I know one can’t make up for what’s missing in one’s own life by vicariously living another person’s life . . . Oh, I’ve got to go, Harry’s just come home. As far as he’s concerned, everything’s just ducky . . . Lots of sun, tropical fruit, Haitian women with big asses: he thinks he’s died and gone to heaven. And there are no problems in paradise . . . I’ll call you later . . . And what about you, anything good going on with you these days, Françoise?”
    A long pause.
    â€œLet’s get together soon and talk about it . . .”
    â€œMy dear, you’re leaving me on tenterhooks . . .”
    â€œI’ll call you when we have more time to . . .”
    â€œHow about tomorrow, at the Bellevue . . . Harry has a tennis match . . . We can have lunch together.”
    â€œGreat.”
    â€œI can’t wait to hear all about it, Françoise. Really.”
    THAT CONVERSATION took place exactly one week ago. Today, Christina feels a fever coming on, and she’s mentally preparing herself for a restful evening with a good rum punch and a good read, followed by a good sleep. At the last minute she decides not to go to her own bedroom, but goes instead into the guest room. It’s a pretty room, much smaller than the master bedroom, but well appointed and extremely comfortable. Christina likes taking refuge in this room because it reminds her of her university days, when she lived in a rooming house not far from Columbia U. She felt torn, at the time, between solitude and freedom. Or rather, she felt more at loose ends than free. She spent her time reading Virginia Woolf (even though she did her dissertation on Colette) hoping someone would come and knock on her door. Now she reads nothing but mystery novels or the latest Philip Roth (luckily he publishes about a book a year) to try to pamper the migraine that never gives her a minute’s rest. In any case, this room makes her feel like the free, young, solitary woman she was in the early 1960s. The guest room opens onto the verandah, where Absalom sleeps when Harry isn’t in the house. Absalom is the young man recommended to them by the Widmaiers. A total pearl, according to Jacqueline Widmaier. Polite, a good worker and above all intelligent. Sometimes Christina thinks about bringing him to New York when Harry’s posting is finished. He already speaks a bit of rudimentary English and understands everything anyone says to him. Harry is very fond of him because of his quick wit. The speed at which he grasps the most complex situations never ceases to amaze them. Absalom is already getting himself ready for bed. He has a room at the far end of the courtyard where he keeps his things, but Harry has