I Confess Read Online Free PDF Page B

"Come in."
    It was Margaret.
    She was wearing an English suit of a shiny black material, a white silk blouse and a little round black hat with a veil. She'd put on some rouge and looked tired. I sat up in bed and she kissed me fleetingly. "Hello, stranger," she said. Then she looked at me and smiled.
    I knew that smile, knew it from innumerable occasions, all of them having one thing in common—something was going on that Margaret didn't want to face. When Margaret didn't want to face anything, it was nonexistent. Her smile did away with it as if it had never happened. It was a smile of cool superiority, a forgiving smile, a smile of sympathy and understanding. There was something regal about it, and it was particularly effective in profile. I knew this smile from first nights, from interviews with critics, from alcoholic nights and marital quarrels. I knew it well.
    "I've spoken to the doctors," said Margaret. "You're getting the best possible care, and I know it will be a load off both our minds to know you're all right. Don't you agree, Roy?" She always called me Roy. It was the second syllable of my middle name. I lay back and looked at her. She talked fast.
    "You know, the Baxters made me nervous." The Baxters were her friends in Chiemsee. "It was Ted who thought of calling the hospitals when you didn't come to pick me up. My God, Roy, you can't imagine what I felt when they told me where you were. I thought I was going to pass out. Ted was sweet. He drove me into the city, the whole way, a hundred miles, bless him. And we talked about your symptoms. He told me what they could mean. He had an uncle—that's how it started with him. In the end they had to operate and he was blind in one eye. Oh . . . I'm sorry, Roy. That was stupid of me, but you know how I meant it, don't you? It's only because he got me all nervous, and because both of us want to know for sure, don't we?"

    She looked at me pleadingly. Her smile was free of guile and full of compassion.
    "Margaret," I said, "you know, don't you, where they found me?"
    "Of course I know, Roy." She fished magazines and newspapers out of her voluminous handbag. "I've brought you something to read. The New Yorker. There are some terribly funny cartoons this time."
    "127 Romanstrasse," I said. "You know who lives there?"
    "Of course I do, darling." She smiled. "And I've brought your mail. The Ezzards are off to Miami again. It's beyond me how they can do it." She was still digging around in her bag. Now she laid a few envelopes on the bed. "Robby's with Warners now, working for Siodmak. Not bad, is it?"
    "Margaret . . ."
    "And here are a few reviews of your last film. Some of them are great. I only brought the good ones. I threw the others away. They were stupid."
    "Yolanda," I said. "Yolanda Caspari. My secretary. I spent the weekend with her."
    "Yes, yes, Roy. I know." She took off her hat and laid it on the table. Her hair was black, parted in the middle and smooth as glass. She crossed her legs. She had long, goodlooking legs. She was wearing light nylons. "I take it the heliotrope is from her."
    "Yes."
    She smelled them.
    "They don't smeU," I said.
    "But they're pretty."
    "Yolanda and I are having an affair."
    She stroked my cheek with her cool, beautifully groomed hand. I wasn't shaved. Her hand smelled of Elizabeth Arden Orange Skin Cream.
    "Yes, Roy. I know. Do we have to talk about it?"
    "I'd like to."
    "It's very sweet of you."

    'Whaf s sweet of me?"
    "To want to apologize."
    "I don't want to apologize. I want to talk about it."
    She smiled. "But I don't. Why should we? I've known all about it."
    "So..."
    "Yes."
    "And?"
    "I also knew you'd handle the situation as tactfully as possible. So that nobody would notice. So that I wouldn't be hurt. As you always have done. I understand perfectly that you're not happy about having put me in such a position. . . ."
    "In what sort of a po . . . po . . . po . . ." I began, and bit my lip in fury and shame. There it was