Strong Motion by Jonathan Franzen

Author:Jonathan Franzen [Franzen, Jonathan]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi, pdf
Tags: General, Fiction, Literary, Man-Woman Relationships, Psychological Fiction, Sagas, Boston (Mass.), Seismologists, Massachusetts, North Shore (Mass. : Coast), Earthquakes
ISBN: 9780312420512
Google: Y-HCiMgSmm0C
Amazon: 031242051X
Publisher: Picador
Published: 1992-01-02T07:00:00+00:00

9

She had only one dress, a ten-year-old beltless cotton print, that she considered fit to wear to lunch with Melanie Holland. The flat dancing slippers that she put on with it were soaked by the time the bus to Lechmere station picked her up on Highland Avenue. A fine, heavy rain choked the airspace above the Charles. The river was so swollen it looked higher than the streets around it.

On Boylston Street, in front of the hotel, a cab door opened and a pair of legs in skin-tight jeans and cowboy boots swung out, followed by an umbrella, a Filene’s shopping bag, and finally, in a large-cut sealskin jacket, the rest of Melanie. She slammed the door and almost bumped into Renée, who was standing looking at her.

In the restaurant, hearty appetites were in evidence. Tourists were grinning and white-haired women were whispering about investments, each pair with an air of being the most important in the room. Melanie looked tired. She’d gotten some sun of late, but her skin was wrinkled and glossy, like old enamel work; the tan seemed not to want to stick to it. The silk lining of her jacket, which she’d slipped off her shoulders onto the cushion of the banquette, held her as tenderly as the tissue paper in which fine gifts come. She scrutinized Renée. “My goodness,” she said. “You’re wet!”

“Yeah, I’m a little wet.”

“You came by train.”

“Train and bus, yes.”

“You live—let’s see if I can guess.” She made a booklet of her hands and raised it to her lips. “You’re in . . . one of those old houses right on the Radcliffe side of the Square.”

Renée shook her head.

“More towards Inman Square?”

“I live in Somerville.”

“Oh.” Melanie smiled vaguely and looked away. “Somerville.” A waiter came. “Will you have a cocktail with me?”

“Campari with soda?” Renée said to the waiter.

“That sounds perfect,” Melanie said. “So red, so chic.”

The waiter nodded. So red. So chic.

“I’m glad you could come on short notice,” Melanie said. “I’m afraid it’s reached the point where I ought to be booking Boston from Chicago and vice versa. Wherever I am one week, I’ll be in the other place the next. But that’s the way it goes sometimes. That’s the way it goes. Do you do much traveling in your job?”

Renée opened her mouth to answer, but she lost heart. She slid her teaspoon sideways on the tablecloth. “No,” she said, “and maybe you should just tell me what you want.”

“What I want? I want us to relax and enjoy ourselves and get to know each other a little. I want to be your friend.”

“You want information.”

“Partly, yes, but—”

“Then why don’t you just ask me what you want to ask me? Because I’m not going to be able to help you, and so you might as well get it over with.”

Melanie turned her head to one side and narrowed her eyes, exactly the way her son sometimes did. “Is something wrong? Is this not a good day? Oh dear!” She leaned across the table.

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