The Mackerel Plaza: A Novel by De Vries Peter

Author:De Vries, Peter [De Vries, Peter]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781497669642
Publisher: Open Road Media
Published: 2014-10-20T22:00:00+00:00

I was waiting for Molly when she arrived for work the next morning. I was sweeping paper clips from the front office desk into my palm, like bread crumbs, and dropping them into their proper tray.

“How’s Todarescu’s Weltschmerz?” I asked.

“All right I guess. I don’t know.”

“I’ve had it myself lately. All in through here.”

“Well, what is it? I can always tell when you’ve got something to fire. You wait a minute before letting go—like hug it a minute. It’s a female trait, so don’t be proud of it,” she said. “O.K., let’s have it.”

“Well,” I said, wheeling around, “I took your advice, and I hope you enjoy hearing how far off the mark you were.”

“What advice?”

“I acted on your theory. That Hester’s got her cap set for me. I asked her for a date and she turned me down.”

Molly turned from the rack on which she was hanging her hat. “Date for what?” she asked.

“The Kickoff Ball.”

“Well, I like that,” she said rather crisply.

“What difference would it have made? I’m not going with you,” I answered in kind, nettled by the shift in grievance from myself to her. “Does that side of it mean more to you than the fact that I’ve made a horse’s ass out of myself?”

In the strain and confusion of leading a double life I sometimes forgot where I was trying to tear myself down and where build myself up, and now I had blurted out in Molly’s presence an expression I had been trying to get up the courage to use in Hester’s.

“Well!” she said, shocked. “I must say that’s a fine way to greet me.”

“I’m sorry.” I circled the room, grinding a fist into my palm. “She’s winning. She’s dividing and conquering. She’s winning.”

“Oh, stop chittering like a ninny and tell me what happened. I forgive you. But don’t ever use that expression to me again. I hate it.”

“So do I!” I said, spreading my hands at the wonder of it. “Happened? I’ve told you what happened. I asked to take her to the Plaza Ball and she turned me down. Cold. So much for your hypothesis.”

Molly pondered intently the blotter pad on her desk.

“So she’s trying to keep you guessing.”

“You mean women are complicated? Yeah, splain dat to me, Kingfish, splain dat to me.”

“You needn’t get sarcastic. What’s more natural, after she’s been wearing her heart on her sleeve, than quickly to cover it up?”

“Nolo contendere,” I said, throwing up my hands, and walked into my office. “I do not contend.” I had my hand on the doorknob when she said:

“Wait. There’s something a lot more serious than this.”

“What?”

She seemed suddenly to change her mind with a vague sign of dread. “Not now. I’m hoping it’s a false alarm. I won’t burden you with it till I’m sure it isn’t.”

I went to work, or tried to. I was doing a series of sermons based on the seven letters which the Voice instructed the author of Revelation to write to the seven churches in Asia Minor, each dealing with one of the faults or virtues common to human nature, then as now.

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