Mrs. Bridge by Evan Connell

Author:Evan Connell
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Counterpoint
Published: 2011-09-07T16:00:00+00:00

59 • SUITOR

When Harriet, who was at times inclined to insubordination, brought in the breakfast tray Mrs. Bridge exclaimed, “For Heaven’s sake! What on earth happened to you?”

“Couperin,” said Harriet, grinning.

“Oh, goodness! Is he the one with the motorcycle?”

“No, ma’am,” said Harriet vehemently. “I took my last ride on a motorcycle, believe me. Approximately eight or ten weeks back.” She began to feel tenderly about her jaw, on which there was a large purple bruise.

“I certainly hope this was an accident,” said Mrs. Bridge.

“It came about,” Harriet replied with regal poise, “because only last evening it so happened that I and that Couperin had a grave dispute. Couperin, he got the worst.”

The evidence seemed to indicate Couperin had spoken the final word, but Mrs. Bridge decided not to get involved.

“What does he do?” she inquired, to change the subject.

“He is associated with the collection bureau of this city.”

“Tax collectors, or—”

“Bureau of rubbish and trash. Then, too, he plumbs a bit. When he is inclined.”

Mrs. Bridge, beginning to sense this would be one of Harriet’s insolent days, sipped at the orange juice and then started to butter a slice of toast.

“Last evening,” Harriet continued, wetting a finger and touching up her eyebrows, “I received his proposition.”

This obviously demanded some sort of acknowledgment, even though Couperin or one of the other suitors proposed every Thursday night. What jarred Mrs. Bridge as much as anything was Harriet’s referring to it as a proposition instead of a proposal, and every Friday when the subject was mentioned she was about to point out the difference.

“I hope you didn’t accept,” she said, pouring some cream in the coffee.

“Frankly, I was tempted,” said Harriet. “However I declined, as you say. The reason being he chooses to get disgustingly drunk following on the heels of his pay check. I disapprove of that, don’t you?”

“I most certainly do,” agreed Mrs. Bridge, busying herself at the table somewhat more than necessary. Then, as Harriet appeared to be reflecting on the previous evening, she said, “Isn’t that a new hair-do?”

“Well, it is, yes.” Harriet pushed it lightly with her fingertips. “I believe it will prove suitable.”

“You look very chic.”

“Well, I find it pays to keep up appearances.”

Mrs. Bridge had the feeling she was about to pull out a cigarette. “Perhaps you’d better look in the refrigerator and see if we’re going to have enough whipping cream for the week end.”

Harriet, holding her bruised jaw, turned to go into the kitchen.

Mrs. Bridge, who was very thankful that Carolyn had no Couperin to contend with, said, “I hope you won’t be seeing him any more.”

“I believe not until next week on the customary evening,” replied Harriet.

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