The Crazy Green of Second Avenue by Erje Ayden

Author:Erje Ayden
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2016-08-30T00:00:00+00:00

THEY DENIED THE TRUTH AND FOLLOWED THEIR OWN LUSTS. YET EVERYTHING WILL COME TO A DECISION.

Koran Surah LIV: The Moon

I loved the ocean. I loved the sand. After I received a scary report about my health from the doctor, I went to Maine for a change of air. The more I was alone, the less I drank.

But it seemed wherever I went I always knew people. Ben was a painter who did second-rate abstractions for a second-rate gallery in New York. He was having his summer vacation with his wife. Ben thought he was the smartest man on earth. Nevertheless, I liked him. I liked characters who dreamed they could put anyone on. It was such a funny feeling of conquest when I acted like I was amused with him while putting him on in return. He invited me to a beach party he was giving. It was obvious he wanted lo sell me some of his paintings. Well, when one was rich, one was supposed to help out other artists. Earlier that day on the beach Ben s wife introduced me to a young married woman with three handsome children. Her name was Laura MacNally. She was very Interested in Federico Fellini’s movies. So we had a long talk about them.

I always liked Fellini. If he wasn’t around I would probably become a movie director myself and remake .ill the movies he did. At least I would have tried. While explaining my views about Fellini’s subconsciousness to Laura, somehow I felt emotionally very uneasy. I was sure that I had met Laura before. I was sure I had had something to do with her.

The sun was getting hotter and hotter. We all were laying on the sand and trying to get colored. Laura asked me, noticing the thirst of our group, if I would like to go to her station wagon and bring the gin and iced orange juice she had. When I got to her car I couldn’t help sitting in it about five minutes and thinking. Of course I knew Laura. She could have been Kathleen’s twin. Same green eyes, same dark blond hair with the same coarseness. Same funny smile. Legs . . . The body . . .

It was peculiar that I hadn’t recognized the familiarity when I first saw her. After a few shots of gin and orange juice I started to chat with Ben about DeKooning’s work and how he was the first painter (besides Delacroix) who made women talk their own minds on canvas. Ben’s hatred of famous artists, especially the rich ones, was widely known. So I wasn’t surprised when he didn’t agree with me. Anyway, he was a bore. What really bothered him the most was knowing he was incapable of painting a DeKooning. He began giving me lots of bullshit about the man’s very personal life and drinking habits. As a drinker myself, I refused to stand still. We had a little argument. Saving me and breaking the cold ice was Laura who asked me to swim with her.

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