The Golden Cup by Belva Plain

Author:Belva Plain [Plain, Belva]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-8041-5253-2
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 2014-05-28T04:00:00+00:00

A dullness came over him. Spring had always been his time, but not this year. The days lengthened; boys played marbles on the street; from open windows came the tinkle of children practicing on the piano; there were ripe wet strawberries on the grocers’ stands. Clients came to the office with talk of summer plans for Biarritz, for the Adirondacks or Bar Harbor; their talk was full of sea winds, blue water, and music; still the dullness lay upon him. He sat at his desk with his chin in his hands and five telephone messages to answer, and did not answer them.

“So? Your mind’s on the wedding, I suppose?” His father’s head appeared at the door, rousing him from his trance.

“What?” It took another second before he registered what his father had said, and he could give the expected smile, the sheepish smile of the man “in love,” the bridegroom, butt of a hundred good-natured jokes. “Yes, the wedding.”

“Your mother’s worried that she’s going to lose you forever.”

“Lose me?”

“Now that you are going to be married.”

“I thought she was delighted.”

“Oh, you know she is. She was only teasing because you hardly ever come home to dinner anymore. Or hadn’t you realized it? You’re almost always at the Mayers’.”

“Well, they always ask me to stay.”

“The food must be better over there, that’s what.” His father laid a hand on Paul’s arm. “All in fun, all in fun. We’re thrilled to see you so happy, wanting to be with Mimi, and, of course, we know we’re not losing you. Mimi will be a lovely daughter for us.”

He felt dirty. His thoughts were dirty. That was why he avoided their dinner table, except on Wednesday when she was out and Mrs. Monaghan passed the platters. He had never known what obsession was, except for the dictionary definition, which could not begin to describe the horror of it. His inability to control his own thoughts was frightening. He hadn’t known that it is possible to think of two things at the same time, to read a headline in a newspaper and, while comprehending it, to see a lovely, thoughtful face under level brows; to sit in a room full of voices or, worse yet, to be alone with Mimi’s voice and at the same time to hear, quite distinctly, another one, with a musical foreign accent.

Oh I want to see the whole world, I want to know everything.

This, then, was obsession. A miserable condition, and when would it end?

He met her in the hall one Saturday morning. He was coming up the stairs while she waited at the top to go down, so it was impossible to avoid her.

“Well,” he said, conscious again of that foolish, jocular manner that his father took with her, “well, your young man—did he like the hat?”

“I haven’t worn it yet. It’s too fine for any place we go.”

“Really? Well, make him take you someplace. Out to tea and cake somewhere, when you see him tomorrow.”

“Well, maybe. But not tomorrow.

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