33
Within a day or two, about 1 pm in the afternoon there was a knock at my door. It was a painter, Monty Riff, or so he informed me. He also told me that I used to get drunk with him when I lived on DeLongpre Avenue.
"I don't remember you," I said.
"Dee Dee used to bring me over."
"Oh yeah? Well, come on in." Monty had a 6-pack with him and a tall stately woman.
"This is Joanna Dover," he introduced me to her.
"I missed your reading in Houston," she said.
"Laura Stanley told me all about you," I said.
"You know her?"
"Yes. But I've renamed her Katherine, after Katherine Hepburn."
"You really know her?"
"Fairly well."
"How well?"
"She's flying out to visit me in a day or two."
"Really?"
"Yes."
We finished the 6-pack and I left to go get some more. When I got back Monty was gone. Joanna told me that he had an appointment. We got to talking about painting and I brought out some of mine. She looked at them and decided that she'd like to buy two of them. "How much?" she asked.
"Well, $40 for the small one and $60 for the large one."
Joanna wrote me out a check for $100. Then she said, "I want you to live with me."
"What? This is pretty sudden."
"It would pay off. I have some money. Just don't ask me how much. I've been thinking of some reasons why we should live together. Do you want to hear them?"
"No."
"One thing, if we lived together I'd take you to Paris."
"I hate to travel."
"I'd show you a Paris you'd really like."
"Let me think it over."
I leaned over and gave her a kiss. Then I kissed her again, this time a little longer.
"Shit," I said, "let's go to bed."
"All right," said Joanna Dover.
We undressed and climbed in. She was 6 feet tall. I'd always had small women. It was strange-every place I reached there seemed to be more woman. We warmed up. I gave her 3 or 4 minutes of oral sex, then mounted. She was good, she was really good. We cleaned up, got dressed and then she took me to dinner in Malibu. She told me she lived in Galveston, Texas. She gave me her phone number, the address and told me to come and see her. I told her that I would. She told me that she was serious about Paris and the rest. It had been a good fuck and the dinner was excellent too.
34
The next day Katherine phoned me. She said she had the tickets and would be landing at L.A. International Friday at 2:30 pm.
"Katherine," I said, "there's something I've got to tell you."
"Hank, don't you want to see me?"
"I want to see you more than anybody I know."
"Then what is it?"
"Well, you know Joanna Dover…"
"Joanna Dover?"
"The one… you know… your husband…"
"What about her, Hank?"
"Well, she came to see me."
"You mean she came to your place?"
"Yes."
"What happened?"
"We talked. She bought two of my paintings."
"Anything else happen?"
"Yeah."
Katherine was quiet. Then she said, "Hank, I don't know if I want to see you now."
"I understand. Look, why don't you think it over and call me back? I'm sorry, Katherine. I'm sorry it happened. That's all I can say."
She hung up. She won't phone back, I thought. The best woman I ever met and I blew it. I deserve defeat, I deserve to die alone in a madhouse.
I sat by the telephone. I read the newspaper, the sports section, the financial section, the funny papers. The phone rang. It was Katherine. "FUCK Joanna Dover!" she laughed. I'd never heard Katherine swear like that before.
"Then you're coming?"
"Yes. Do you have the arrival time?"
"I have it all. I'll be there."
We said goodbye. Katherine was coming, she was coming for at least a week with that face, that body, that hair, those eyes, that laugh…
35
I came out of the bar and checked the message board. The plane was on time. Katherine was in the air and moving towards me. I sat down and waited. Across from me was a well-groomed woman reading a paperback. Her dress was up around her thighs, showing all that flank, that leg wrapped in nylon. Why did she insist on doing that? I had a newspaper, and I looked over the top, up her dress. She had great thighs. Who was getting those thighs? I felt foolish staring up her dress, but I couldn't help myself. She was built. Once she had been a little girl, someday she would be dead, but now she was showing me her upper legs. The goddamned strumpet, I'd give her a hundred strokes, I'd give her 7-and-one-half inches of throbbing purple! She crossed her legs and her dress inched higher. She looked up from her paperback. Her eyes looked into mine as I watched over the top of the newspaper. Her expression was indifferent. She reached into her purse and took out a stick of gum, took the wrapper off and put the gum in her mouth. Green gum. She chewed on the green gum and I watched her mouth. She didn't pull her skirt down. She knew that I was looking. There was nothing I could do. I opened my wallet and took out 2 fifty dollar bills. She looked up, saw the bills, looked back down. Then a fat man plopped down next to me. His face was very red and he had a massive nose. He was dressed in a jumpsuit, a light brown jumpsuit. He farted. The lady pulled her dress down and I put the bills back in my wallet. My cock softened and I got up and went to the drinking fountain.
Out in the landing area Katherine's plane was taxiing toward the ramp. I stood and waited. Katherine, I adore you.
Katherine walked off the ramp, perfect, with red-brown hair, slim body, a blue dress clinging as she walked, white shoes, slim, neat ankles, youth. She wore a white hat with a wide brim, the brim turned down just right. Her eyes looked out from under the brim, large and brown and laughing. She had class. She'd never show her ass in an airport waiting area.
And there I was, 225 pounds, perpetually lost and confused, short legs, ape-like upper body, all chest, no neck, head too large, blurred eyes, hair uncombed, 6 feet of geek, waiting for her.
Katherine moved toward me. That long clean red-brown hair. Texas women were so relaxed, so natural. I gave her a kiss and asked about her baggage. I suggested a stop at the bar. The waitresses had on short red dresses that showed their ruffled white panties. The necklines of their dresses were cut low to show their breasts. They earned their salaries, they earned their tips, every cent. They lived in the suburbs and they hated men. They lived with their mothers and brothers and were in love with their psychiatrists.