Cold Spring Harbor by Richard Yates

Author:Richard Yates [Yates, Richard]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-307-48306-5
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 2013-10-16T04:00:00+00:00

When the phone rang a day or two later Gloria sprang to pick it up, and Phil listened to her half of the talk with mounting apprehension.

“… Who? Well, I’m afraid I don’t—oh, you’re Flash Ferris’s grandmother. Oh, well, how very nice of you to call, Mrs. Talmage.… Well, that sounds delightful, and of course we’d love to. I wonder if you could give me a few directions, though, so we can find our way to your—oh, good.” Then she got busy with a pencil, writing things down, and Phil knew there would now be no escape.

The following afternoon, carefully dressed for tea, he and his mother were a mile from home, walking along the edge of a major highway, and as one sun-brilliant car after another swept past it left a swirl of tan dust that stung their eyes and seeped into their clothing.

“You sure we’re going the right way?” he asked fretfully.

“Of course I’m sure. It can’t be much farther now.”

“Can I take a look at those directions you wrote down?”

“Well, I don’t want to stop and go through my purse now, dear; besides, I think we’re almost there. Watch for a sign that says Delco Batteries; that’s where we turn left.”

For the first time, then, it occurred to him that Mrs. Talmage had probably assumed they’d be coming by car. “Oh, Jesus,” he said, “were those driving instructions she gave you?”

“Well, I suppose so, yes, but that doesn’t matter. It’s a very small community.”

“Jesus,” he said again. “Oh, shit.”

“I think you know how I feel about that word, Philly.”

“Oh, yeah? I thought the one you didn’t like was ‘fuck.’ ”

“Oh, please,” she cried, and her hand made a move for her breast but didn’t quite connect. “Please don’t start being this way. You’re just going to ruin a nice time.”

“Yeah, yeah. ‘Nice.’ ”

But a moment later all the trouble vanished from his mother’s face. “Oh, look!” she said, touching his arm. “See up ahead? ‘Delco Batteries’!”

There were acres and acres of Mrs. Talmage’s property: wide rolling lawns in a perfect state of maintenance, with evergreens in the distance. Her handsome old house, probably her ancestral home, stood at the end of a well-raked pebble driveway that met your heels in unexpectedly buoyant, invigorating clicks and crunches.

“Isn’t this beautiful?” Gloria asked her son in a near-whisper of reverence, as if they were in church.

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