Auntie Mame by Patrick Dennis

Author:Patrick Dennis [Dennis, Patrick]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780141194134
Publisher: Penguin Books Ltd
Published: 2010-07-08T07:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

and My Punctured Romance

The time inevitably comes in the Unforgettable Character’s life for the foundling to finish school, find love, and get married. And what did the spinster do then, poor thing? Naturally it was something of a wrench for her to be torn apart from the person who meant everything in her life, but she was a game old girl. As always, she thought of herself last, swallowed her pride, smiled—although her heart was breaking—and went out to meet the girl’s parents and see that everything went according to Hoyle. That seems typical of her, doesn’t it?

But Auntie Mame could be typical, too. In fact, too typical. She did all the proper things pursuant to an engagement, and she did them with a flair that has made her unforgettable to more people than me. I mean, either do these things right or don’t do them at all. Auntie Mame did everything up brown.

By the end of my senior year in college I’d grown up a little. Fred Astaire ceased to be my idol. I even managed to get on the Dean’s List. And I was in love.

Love and youth and beauty—all of them were Gloria Upson. She was very young—just nineteen. She was very beautiful—a slim, curvacious honey-blonde with a deliciously petulant lower lip. I wrote her every day, telephoned her every night, spent every week end near her. During Commencement Week I proposed.

“Oh, angel, yes,” she whispered, stirring softly against the upholstery of my car. “You know I want to say yes. But how can we? How could we exist? You haven’t even a job yet, and when you graduate …”

“But I have some money. It’s no great fortune, but we could count on something to live on until I get going. It would keep us.”

“Angel,” she sighed, “that’s wonderful. Of course we can do it in that case. Daddy will surely say it’s all right, and maybe he’ll even help out a little.”

“We don’t need any help from anybody,” I said.

“Well, silly, if he offers, you certainly won’t say No. I realize that money isn’t everything, but then, angel, I don’t want to be a burden to you before you really get started.”

And so it was settled. I had only to grab my diploma, see Upson Père, buy a license and a ring.

My interview with Father Upson was arranged for a warmish night in June. I dined with Gloria and her family at their apartment in that graceless canyon of dying grass, carbon monoxide, and bad architecture that is called Park Avenue. The Upsons lived the way every family in America wants to live—not rich, but well-to-do. They had two of everything: two addresses, the flat on Park and a house in Connecticut; two cars, a Buick sedan and a Ford station wagon; two children, a boy and a girl; two servants, man and maid; two clubs, town and country; and two interests, money and position.

Mrs. Upson had two fur coats and two chins. Mr. Upson also had two chins, two passions—golf and business—and two aversions, Roosevelt and Jews.

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