Dear Ann by Bobbie Ann Mason

Author:Bobbie Ann Mason
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2020-06-02T00:00:00+00:00

AT AN INDIAN restaurant later, the familiar smells of Sanjay’s cooking blared like horns. Ann thought she was supposed to chew each bite thirty times, sip tea, fold more naan, plop on chutney. The meal was long and funny, and the flavors were deep and sensuous—clever, Ann said. Yellow and cinnamon. Then somewhere there was a movie. What’s New Pussycat? Each scene was a dreamlike world of its own, like Dante’s rings of hell but intensely real. She forgot at times that Jimmy was beside her. He was holding her hand like a potato. The theater lights gleamed on, and she was with Jimmy in a slow-moving throng, cows heading into the barn for milking. Chip had gone ahead to get the car. Or maybe he had gone to church.

Jimmy was quiet. His face sagged. He shooed Ann into the back seat and shoved himself into a heap beside her.

He jerked his head away when she tried to touch his face.

“What’s wrong?”

“Just a headache,” he said. “Are you O.K.?”

“Yeah, I think so.” The movie was still in her head, scenes flashing.

“Chip, can you take me home and then take Ann home? I don’t feel so hot.”

Jimmy told Chip that Ann would sleep with him. Chip shrugged.

“Sure, that makes sense. Fair play.” But they were kidding.

Ann somehow thought that would be all right even though she knew it wasn’t, but it was what people were doing—sharing with friends, from the goodness of their hearts. Jimmy hugged her goodbye silently and suddenly she was in the front seat with Chip. Chip, who had been the kind friend all day, was still kind to her as he drove her home. She tried to imagine going to bed with Chip, who was attractive enough, though the jumpsuit really was not flattering and she wouldn’t be able to get Porky Pig or Yvor Winters out of her mind. Then she remembered Pixie.

“Don’t worry, Ann,” Chip said as he opened the car door for her. “Sometimes Jimmy ODs on altruism.”

“Is that what it is?”

“Surely you know that about him by now. Jimmy doesn’t think he should have anything for himself, so he tries to share everything.”

Chip walked her up the stairs to her door. Ann unlocked her door and flipped on the kitchen light. Chip followed her.

He said, “I think Jimmy had early lessons in self-doubt.”

“That’s not all bad,” Ann said, picturing her and Jimmy, bowing to each other in a drawing with the tagline, “No, I don’t doubt you.”

“Can I go get you anything, Ann? Do you need anything to eat? Donuts? Pretzels?”

“No, thank you.”

Chip was a walking palm tree, tall and thin, with a tufty head.

“I’ll go back and check on Jimmy.”

“Please.”

“Let me take a whiz first.”

While Chip was in her wine-dark bathroom, she lost track of him. When he reappeared, she was staring into her cupboard, mentally alphabetizing the soup cans and spices.

“Your bathroom is like a cave,” he said.

“‘Caverns measureless to man.’”

“You poetry freaks.”

“Good night, Chip,” she said at her door. “Thank you for taking care of us.

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