Americana by Don Delillo

Author:Don Delillo [Delillo, Don]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Romance, United States, General, Amateur Films, Fiction
ISBN: 9780141188232
Google: XbY5PwAACAAJ
Amazon: 0140119485
Publisher: Penguin
Published: 1971-01-02T08:00:00+00:00

"I'm David Bell," I said.

"I got confused. I meant Dick Davis."

"Freudian slip," I said. "They say if you use somebody's name like that by mistake it means you like that person very much."

"Don't get ideas, mister."

"I was only kidding."

"Your parents are very nice."

"So are yours. Do you think I'm handsome, Amy?"

"What a question."

"I know it's an ambivalent thing to ask but I heard you discussing colors with old Andy Alexander and you seem to have good taste and I was just wondering what you thought. I'm sure you wonder if people think you're pretty. Do you think I'm handsome?"

"Yes," she said.

"Do you want to know if I think you're pretty?"

"Okay."

"I think you just miss," I said. "What's your opinion of Burt Lancaster? I think he's the all-time greatest."

Henry Gossage came out on the porch. He took a deep breath and clubbed himself on the chest with both his baby fists. Then he saw us standing by the rail and pretended to be startled, drawing his body back and raising his arms in self-defense. "Two purple shadows in the snow," he sang. I hoped he wouldn't tell another joke.

"Our kids are away at camp," he said. "Oldest is a counselor. Middle waits on tables but he'll be a counselor next year. Youngest is only twelve so he's got a ways to go yet before he gets out of the camper category."

"How's Hank?" I said.

"He's the oldest. Henry Jr. He's fine. Appreciate your asking."

"Give him my best."

"Will do. Damn good of you, lad. Damn nice of you, Dave boy. Damn sweet thing to say. Where can I throw up?"

"In the hedge," I said.

"It's all right. I don't think I have to anymore."

Amy said she thought it would be a good idea to get back inside. Everybody stood talking and eating. At the far end of the room Tod Morgan and Peter Fisher's wife were talking.

I was watching his face when he laughed. His features stretched and quivered. He looked extraordinarily ugly. I imagined a small explosion in his head. He was laughing in an exaggerated manner, overdoing it, creating the laugh as if with ceramics, and I watched his head come apart in slow motion, different sections tumbling through the air, nose-part, ear-part, jaw with lower teeth. I went through the kitchen and out the back door.

The small porch out there was full of empty bottles. I walked along the edge of the woods past Harris, Torgeson and Weber. The Harris and Weber houses were lit. I cut across a lawn and walked the five blocks to Ridge Street. The drugstore was closed. There were four or five people in the ice cream parlor. I had a soda and waited for Kathy Lovell to turn up but she didn't. I almost went to the movie theater to look for her.

Then I started walking toward her house. Finally I went back to the ice cream parlor and called her from there. Her father answered and I hung up. Ten minutes later I was on Green Street.

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