Next Life Might Be Kinder by Howard Norman

Author:Howard Norman
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Houghton Mifflin Harcourt
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Full Dimensions of the Threat (Third Lindy Lesson)

THINGS GOT WORSE with Alfonse Padgett, though by increments, which made it difficult to experience any clear sense of a buildup or the full dimensions of the threat. Two or three days would pass without a confrontation or a disturbing encounter or even a sighting of Padgett. Then something nasty would happen.

At about six o’clock in the morning on the day of the third lindy lesson, I met Derek Budnick in the lobby. “By the way,” he said, “I learned four people dropped out of the dance lessons. They didn’t consider it fun anymore. All those dustups—too uncomfortable, eh? And one fellow hurt his ankle. No refunds asked, though. Nice of them.”

I bought my daily newspaper. The hotel kept copies of the Chronicle-Herald on reserve at the registration counter; each resident’s name was written in black marker at the top of the front page. That morning, I sifted through the stack and found my copy, then carried it to the sofa near the front window, sat down, and started to read. When I got to the page of obituaries, I was sickened to see that, violating the photographs of the deceased, both men and women, were crudely drawn Groucho Marx–style eyebrows, Hitler-like mustaches, and broom-end beards. Scrawled in the garish manner of graffiti over a paragraph in each major obituary was “YOWZA! YOWZA! YOWZA!”

I looked up from my newspaper and saw Alfonse Padgett standing near the lift, staring at me. Mr. Isherwood was talking to Derek Budnick across the lobby. Another bellman, Mr. Delveaux, was speaking to a newly arrived guest, a quite elderly woman with large, expensive-looking leather suitcases. As I met his stare, Padgett held out his arms and danced with an invisible partner out to the middle of the lobby, then back to the lift. He slid open the grille, stepped in, and disappeared upward.

This set loose a panic in me. I all but hurtled up the stairs to our apartment. Though Padgett had in fact gotten out on the top floor, the fear that he was headed to our apartment unnerved me. In our kitchen I made coffee for Elizabeth. She had just woken, and, dressed in her nightgown, she walked as hesitantly as a somnambulist into the kitchen and sat at the table. She held out her empty hand and said in a Frankenstein voice, “Cof-fee, cof-fee. I must have cof-fee.” I handed her the cup of coffee. After taking a sip, she said, “Darling, did you forget the morning paper?”

“Oh, yes, sorry,” I said. I went back down the stairs. In the lobby I saw that my copy of the paper was gone, so I purchased a second one. I would not have wanted Lizzy to see the defacements on the obituary page anyway. In our apartment again, I handed the newspaper to Elizabeth. “Coffee, a newspaper, a husband who doesn’t care that his wife woke up looking like a hag—what more could a girl want?” To my eyes, Elizabeth looked sweet, funny, and sexy.

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