cwilleford.theburntorangeheresy-第12部分

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　　Euphoric；　my　tenseness　dissipated；　the　thought　of　sending　this　big；　marvelous　woman　back　to　Minnesota　became　intolerable。　She　turned　on　the　floorlamp　and　rummaged　around　in　her　suitcase　for　douching　equipment。
　　〃Hang　up　that　yellow　linen　suit　of　yours；　baby；〃　I　told　her；　〃so　the　wrinkles　will　shake　out。〃
　　〃Why？〃　she　asked；　doing　as　she　was　told。　〃It　isn't　wrinkled。〃
　　〃Because　I　want　you　to　wear　it　tomorrow。　I'm　taking　you　with　me。〃
　　〃Where　are　we　going？　Are　we　going　to　have　fun？〃
　　〃To　call　on　M。　Debierue。〃　I　sighed。　〃I'll　try　to　explain　it　again　tomorrow…in　one…syllable　words。〃　With　the　light　on；　Berenice　Hollis　was　a　problem　again。
　　〃We'll　have　fun；　though；　won't　we？〃
　　〃Sure；〃　I　replied　glumly。　〃Fun；　fun；　fun。〃
　　I　closed　my　eyes　as　she　went　into　the　bathroom。　I　remember　dimly　being　washed　with　a　warm　washrag；　but　I　was　sound　asleep　before　she　finished。
　　
　　
　　
　　
　　　PART　TWO
　　　
　　　IF　ANYTHING　EXISTS；
　　　IT　IS　INPREHENSIBLE
　　
　　
　　1
　　
　　The　apartment　looked　terrible；　as　if　a　small　whirlwind　had　been　turned　loose　for　a　few　minutes；　but　Berenice；　in　her　lemon　linen　suit；　with　its　skimpy　microskirt；　was　beautiful。　At　my　request　she　wore　stockings；　sheer　enough　to　enhance　the　sienna　brown　of　her　deeply　tanned　legs。　The　skirt　was　so　short；　when　she　sat　or　leaned　over；　the　white　metal　snaps　that　held　up　her　stockings　were　exposed　slyly　enough　to　make　her　as　sexy　as　a　Varga　drawing。
　　Instead　of　a　blouse　she　wore　a　filmy　blue…and…red　scarf　around　her　neck。　The　two　loose　ends　of　the　scarf　were　tucked　crosswise　beneath　the　lapels　of　the　square…cut　double…breasted　jacket。　Very　few　women　would　dare　to　wear　such　a　severely　cut　suit；　but　the　square　straight　lines　of　the　jacket　exaggerated　the　roundness　of　Berenice's　lush　figure。　With　the　supplement　of　a　rat　she　had　put　up　her　hair；　and　the　ample　mound　of　tawny　hair；　sun…tinged　with　yellow　streaks；　piled　on　top　of　her　head；　together　with　her　childish　features；　gave　her　an　angelic　expression。
　　There　was；　I　think；　too　much　orange　in　her　lipstick；　but　perhaps　this　slight　imperfection　was　the　single　needed　touch　that　made　her　so　lovely　as　a　whole。
　　I　had　shaved　and　showered　before　Berenice　took　over　the　bathroom　for　an　hour；　and　I　had　trimmed　my　Spanish　Don　sideburns　neatly　with　scissors。　Nevertheless；　I　looked　incongruously　raunchy　beside　Berenice　in　my　faded　blue　denim；　short…sleeved　jumpsuit；　especially　when　she　slipped　on　a　pair　of　white　gloves。　It　was　too　hot　outside　for　a　jacket；　and　I　needed　the　multiple　pockets　in　the　jumpsuit　to　carry　all　my　paraphernalia。
　　I　had　three　pens；　a　notebook；　my　wallet　and　keys；　a　handkerchief；　two　packs　of　Kools；　and　my　ribbed…model　Dunhill　lighter　（one　of　the　few　luxuries　I　had　treated　myself　to　when　I　had　a　regular　teaching　salary　ing　in）；　a　tiny　Kodak　Bantam　in　my　right　trousers　pocket；　some　loose　change；　a　pocket　magnifying　glass　in　a　leather　case；　fingernail　clippers；　and　a　two…inch　piece　of　clammy　jade；　with　indentations　for　a　finger　grip。　Except　for　the　well…concealed　Kodak　Bantam；　loaded　with　color　film；　I　carried　too　much　crap　around　with　me；　but　I　had　gotten　used　to　carrying　it　and　could　hardly　do　without　it。
　　We　had　slept　late　and　had　a　leisurely　breakfast。　After　getting　dressed；　I　had　jotted　down　a　few　questions　in　my　notebook。　I　would　not　refer　to　the　questions；　but　the　act　of　writing　them　down　had　set　them　in　my　mind。　This　was　an　old　reporter's　trick　that　worked；　and　I　always　took　my　Polaroid　camera　along；　loaded　with　black…and…white；　and　extra　film。　Professionals　sneer　at　Dr。　Edwin　H。　Land's　Polaroids；　but　I　was　an　expert　with　them　and　rarely　snapped　more　than　two　shots　before　getting　what　I　wanted。　I　had　learned；　too；　that　people　wifi　okay　without　argument　almost　any　picture　that　they　have　seen；　but　wifi　refuse　to　allow　photos　to　be　published　when　they　haven't　seen　everything　on　the　roll。
　　By　1：30　P。M。　we　were　ready　to　go。　I　preceded　Berenice　down　the　stairs　into　the　glare　of　the　breathtaking　Florida　sunlight。　The　humidity　was　close　to　ninety；　although　the　temperature　wasn't　quite　eighty…five。　There　were　threatening　nimbus　clouds　farther　south；　but　the　sky　was　clear　and　blue　above　Palm　Beach。　It　doesn't　always　rain　in　South　Florida　when　the　humidity　hits　100　percent；　although　technically　it　is　supposed　to；　but　inasmuch　as　we　were　heading　toward　the　dark　sky　above　Boynton　Beach；　I　decided　not　to　put　the　canvas　top　back。　Inside　the　car；　on　burning　leatherefte　seats；　we　sweltered。
　　We　had　hardly　crossed　the　bridge　into　West　Palm　when　Berenice　pointed　to　a　blazing　orange　roof　and　said；　〃Let's　stop　at　Howard　Johnson's。〃
　　〃Why？　We　just　finished　breakfast　an　hour　ago。〃
　　〃I　have　to　widdle。　That's　why。〃
　　〃I　told　you　to　pee　before　we　left。〃
　　〃I　did；　but　I　have　to　go　again。〃
　　It　was　partly　the　heat；　but　I　jerked　the　car　into　the　parking　lot；　thinking　angrily　that　it　wasn't　too　late。　I　could　call　a　cab　and　send　Berenice　back　to　the　apartment。
　　But　once　inside　the　cave…cold　depths　and　booth…seated；　I　ordered　two　chocolate　ice　cream　sodas；　waited　for　them　and　Berenice；　and　smoked　a　Kool。　Because　the　service　was　seasonal；　Berenice　joined　me　at　the　table　long　before　the　sodas　arrived。　She　picked　up　my　cigarette　from　the　ashtray；　took　a　long　drag；　replaced　the　cigarette　exactly　as　she　found　it；　held　the　inhaled　smoke　inside　her　lungs　like　a　skin　diver　trying　to　break　the　hold…your…breath…underwater　record；　and　finally　let　what　was　left　of　the　smoke　out。　I　had　noticed；　during　the　three　days　I　was　in　Miami；　when　Berenice　had　not　been　with　me；　that　her　so…called　efforts　to　quit　smoking　caused　three　packs　a　day　to　go　up　in　smoke　instead　of　my　usual　two。　She　had　merely　quit　buying　and　carrying　them。　She　smoked　mine　instead…or　took　long　drags　off　the　cigarette　I　happened　to　be　smoking。　She　hated　mentholated　cigarettes；　or　so　she　claimed；　but　not　enough；　apparently；　to　give　them　up　altogether。
　　〃If　you　want　a　cigarette；〃　I　said；　pushing　the　pack　toward　her；　〃take　one。　When　you　drag　mine　down　a　quarter　of　an　inch　that　way；　I　finish　the　cigarette　unsatisfied　because　I　didn't　have　the　exact　ration　of　smoke　I'm　accustomed　to。　Then；　because　I　feel　gypped　out　of　a　quarter　inch；　I　light　another　one；　only　to　find　that　an　entire　cigarette；　smoked　too　soon　after　the　one　I　just　finished；　is　too　much。　I　butt　it；　replace　it　in　the　pack；　and　when　I　finally　get　around　to　lighting　the　butt　the　next　time　I　want　a　smoke；　it　tastes　too　strong　and　it　still　isn't　a　regular…length　smoke。　If　I　throw　the　butt　away；　with　only　a　couple　of　drags　gone；　it's　a　waste；　and…〃
　　Berenice　put　a　cool　hand　over　mine。　There　were　faint　crinkles　in　the　corners　of　her　guileless　cornflower　blue　eyes。　Her　bowed　lips　narrowed　as　they　flickered　a　rapid　smile。
　　〃What's　bothering　you；　James？〃
　　I　shrugged。　〃I　don't　know。　I　took　an　up　with　my　third　cup　of　coffee；　and　the　bination　of　a　benny　with　too　much　coffee　makes　me　talk　too　much。　As　I　told　you　last　night；　Berenice；　this　is　a　one…of…a…kind　opportunity　for　me。　And　I'm　apprehensive；　that's　all。〃
　　She　shook　her　head。　The　smile　appeared　and　disappeared　again　so　fast　I　almost　missed　it。　〃No；　James；　you　told　me　so　much　about　this　painter　last　night　I　got　confused；　bogged　down　in　details；　so　to　speak。　Something　is　either　missing　or　you　didn't　tell　me　everything。〃
　　〃You　fell　asleep；　for　Christ's　sake。〃
　　〃No；　I　didn't。　Well；　maybe　toward　the　end。　But　what　I　don't　understand　is　how　this　painter；　this　Debierue；　can　be　such　a　famous　painter　when　no　one　has　ever　seen　any　of　his　paintings。　It　doesn't　make　sense。〃
　　〃What　do　you　mean；　no　one　has　seen　his　paintings？　Thousands　of　people　saw　his　first　one…man　show；　and　his　subsequent　work　has　been　written　about　by　Mazzeo；　Charonne；　Reinsberg；　and　Galt；　who　all　studied　his　paintings。　These　are　some　of　the　most　famous　critics　of　this　century；　for　God's　sake！〃
　　She　shook　her　head　and　pursed　her　lips。　〃I　don't　mean　them；　or　even　you…that　is；　if　you　get　to　see　what　he's　painted　since　ing　to　Florida。　I　mean　the　public；　the　people　who　flock　to　museums　when　a　traveling　Van　Gogh　show　es　in；　and　buy　all　kinds　of　Van　Gogh　reproductions　and　so　on。　I　had　seen　dozens　of　Van　Gogh　paintings　in　books　and　magazines　long　before　I　ever　saw　one　of　his　originals。　That's　what　I　mean　by　famous。　How　can　I　be　impressed　by　Debierue's　fame　when　I've　never　seen　any　of　his　work　and　can't　judge　for　myself　how　good　he　is？〃
　　Our　ice　cream　sodas　arrived。　I　didn't　want　to　hurt　Berenice's　feelings；　but　I　was　forced　to　because　of　her　ignorance。
　　〃Look；　baby；　you　aren't　qualified　to　judge　for　yourself。　Now　keep　quiet；　and　drink　your　nice　ice　cream　soda…　there's　a　good　girl…and　I'll　try　and　explain　it　to　you。　Did　you　ever　study　cetology？〃
　　〃I　don't　know。　What　is　it？〃
　　〃The　scientific　study　of　whales。　A　cetologist　is　a　man　who　studies　whales；　and　he　can　spend　an　entire　lifetime　at　it；　just　as　I've　spent　my　life；　so　far；　studying　art…as　have　the　critics　who　wrote　about　Debierue。　Now；　let's　suppose　that　you　pick　up　a　copy　of　Scientific　American　and　read　an　article　about　whales　written　by　a　well…known　cetologist…〃
　　〃Are　there　any　well…known　cetologists？〃
　　〃There　are　bound　to　be。　I　don't　have　any　names　to　rattle　off　for　you…that　isn't　my　racket。　But　I　haven't　finished　yet。　All　right；　you're　reading　this　article　by　a　cetologist　in　Scientific　American　and　he　states　that　a　baby　sperm　whale　is　a　tail　presentation。〃
　　〃What　does　that　mean？〃
　　〃It　means　that　a　baby　whale；　unlike　other　mammals；　is　born　tail　first。〃
　　〃How　do　you　know　that？〃
　　〃I　read　a　lot。　But　the　same　would　hold　true　even　if　the　cetologist　said　that　it　was　a　cephalic　presentation。　The　point　I'm　making　is　this：　The　article　is　written　by　a　cetobogist　and　published　in　Scientific　American；　and　you　will　accept　an　expert's　word　for　it。　You　aren't　going　to　get　yourself　a　goddamned　boat　and　sail　around　the　seven　fucking　seas　trying　to　find　a　pregnant　whale；　are　you？　Just　so　you　can　check　on　whether　a　baby　whale　is　born　head　first　or　tail　first？〃
　　Berenice　giggled。　〃You're　cute　when　you're　stern。　No　。　。　。　I　guess　not；　but　art；　it　seems　to　me；　is　supposed　to　be　for　everybody；　not　just　for　those　critics　you　mentioned　。　。
　　I　put　down　the