The Collected Stories of Richard Yates

by Richard Yates

  He went out and up the stairs, carefully buttoning his coat and righting his hat. And he walked four or five blocks before he realized, coming to a halt and looking around, that he had absolutely no idea where he was going.

  A Last Fling, Like

  HONESTLY, GRACE, IT really is good to be home. I mean it was a wonderful trip, seeing all those different places and everything, and I wouldn’t of missed it for the world, but I don’t know, it’s funny. When I walked into the office today and saw all you girls working at the same old desks and you all acted so glad to see me, and when Mr. Willis came out with that real cute grin and says, “Well, look at the globe-trotter,” you know what I felt like doing? I almost felt like crying.

  And I mean, I never thought I’d feel that way about the office, you know it? Oh, I mean, I like all you kids a whole lot and everything, I don’t mean it that way, but gee, after working there six years for those lousy two-dollar raises, getting so mad at Mr. Willis I could scream half the time, and always saving up for my trip—I mean, you’d think that when I finally quit and took the trip, I wouldn’t care if I ever laid eyes on the place again. But I guess a person gets used to having things a certain way, and after that no matter what they do or where they go, they always like to come back. You know what I mean? Well, listen, Grace, I could sit here talking all night—I mean, it’s like old times, coming here to Child’s for coffee after work and everything—but honestly, I got to get home or my mother’ll kill me. I told her I was just going to drop in at the office to say hello; she says, “Ah, I know you—you’ll be there all day.” So she was right, as usual. And also, Marty’s coming over tonight and I got to pick up my dress from the cleaners before they close. So listen, Grace, I’ll just give you the high points of the trip now, and we can talk about it some more when you’re over at the house Friday night, okay? Because honestly, there’s so much to tell I hardly know where to begin.

  Well, first of all there was the boat trip, of course. Honestly, I’ll never forget the way all you kids came down to see me off that day, and all those swell presents, and me bawling like a baby all over the place; it was really swell. Well, anyway, remember that real cute fella that got up and offered you his deck chair, and you all kidded me about him and I got so embarrassed? Well, the first day it turned out he was married—honestly, I was so mad—but his wife was real nice too, she was French, and we had the same table in the dining room.

  There was this other fella at the table that was all right, a single fella. We sort of went around together on the boat until he started bothering me. I mean I liked him and everything, but he wanted to make dates with me in Paris, and dates with me on the Riviera, and dates with me in Venice and Rome—he was going to all the exact same places I was going, and it was really a problem. So I told him, “Look, Walter”—Walter Meltzer was his name, from Milwaukee—I told him, “Look, just because a girl’s traveling alone doesn’t mean she wants to spend all her time with the first fella she meets.” And I guess he got the point, because I didn’t see a thing of him after the boat docked. Except one time in Rome; I’ll tell you about that later.

  So anyway, I also met these two real nice girls on the boat, the ones I wrote you about, remember? Pat and Georgine? They were from Baltimore, both secretaries there, and honestly, they had so much fun together it made me homesick for the times you and I used to have. Well, Pat started going around with this real nice English fella on the boat, and Georgine was mad because she didn’t have a date. I introduced her to Walter, kind of hoping I could get rid of him that way, but she said he wasn’t her type. I don’t think he cared for her much either. I mean, Georgine wasn’t a homely girl, and she was very intelligent and had a real good figure and everything, but she was—I don’t know, sort of quiet and too serious about everything. I liked Pat better, myself. But I got along real good with both of them, and later we all decided to stick together in Paris—I mean we had the same hotel and everything.

  So we finally got to Le Havre, and that’s where Pat had to say goodbye to her English fella, because he was staying on to Southampton. Well, she took so long to say goodbye to him that we almost missed the boat train, or anyway Georgine thought we almost missed it, and she got real mad at Pat. They weren’t speaking all the way to Paris. But they made up as soon as we got there, and from then on we had a wonderful time. I mean, Paris was really wonderful.

  The first day we went crazy buying clothes; I’m still kicking myself for spending so much money. That was when I got this dress I’m wearing—honestly, I could scream about this coffee stain down the front; my mother’ll kill me when she sees it. And I got some others too; you’ll see them when you come over Friday night.

  When we went to the American Express was when I got all those letters from you kids at the office—honestly, they made me feel so good. And there was the cutest letter from Mr. Willis—did he tell you about it at the time? Oh, it was adorable—he says, “We’ve lowered all the venetian blinds to half-mast in your honor.” Honestly, I thought I’d die laughing.

  And that was where—the American Express, I mean—that was where we met these three real nice fellas I wrote you about. The GIs? We didn’t know they were GIs at first because they were on furlough and they had on civilian clothes. We got to talking to them while we were waiting for our mail, and we went out with them about three times in all, I guess, before they had to go back to Germany. Pat’s fella was the cutest, but I think mine was the nicest, in personality and everything. His name was Ike Archer, I guess I wrote you that, and he really was a nice person. Only thing was, he had these big pimples all over his face, you know, a real condition, like, and when he first tried to kiss me I pushed him away, sort of. I felt real bad about it afterwards, and later I let him kiss me goodnight, but I never did get so I enjoyed it. Anyway, we all had a lot of fun together.

  They were the fellas that took us to Pigalle, and honestly, Grace, I never would of believed all those stories about Pigalle if I didn’t see it with my own two eyes. I mean, they have all these cabarets where the girls don’t wear any clothes—you know, not like a striptease, they go through their whole act naked. And of course all over Paris they have these prostitutes. You see them everywhere; the railroad stations, everywhere, honestly, you see them come right up to a fella and take him by the arm.

  Anyway, these fellas also took us to a real cute place called Harry’s New York Bar—it’s a regular little American bar, like, you know? You’d never know you were in Paris. Afterwards we always used to go there when we didn’t have dates; I mean, the three of us could have a real good time there by ourselves, and we didn’t feel funny about going in alone, like we would of at a regular French bar. And then later we met these three airlines pilots—or I guess only one of them was a pilot, the others worked in the office or something. We got to talking to them there in Harry’s, and they were the ones that took us to the artists’ quarter, over on the Left Bank! Honestly, Grace, you sit in one of those sidewalk cafés and in five minutes you see the funniest-looking people you ever saw in your life walking by. Sort of like down in the Village, only much, much more so. All the girls wear these black sweaters and black slacks, it’s like a uniform, and all the fellas either grow a beard or grow their hair down to their shoulders or some darn thing.

  Oh yeah, I was going to tell you about the airlines pilots or whatever they were. We only went out with them that one time. The one I had was all right, except he was married. His friend told Georgine and Georgine told me, when we went to the ladies’ room, and after that I felt kind of funny about it, you know what I mean? I mean, I wasn’t a prude about it, but just the same I was glad when the evening was over. Besides, he wasn’t really my type at all. He wasn’t bad-looking, looked a little bit like Richard Widmark, but he was sort of on the plump side and his hands were always wet. You know those fellas with the wet hands? Another thing, he kept laughing all the time, whether anybody said anything funny or not. Just laughing, the way girls do, you know? Giggling
, like. Anyway, Georgine wasn’t too crazy about her date either, so we both stopped dating them after that first night, but Pat kept right on with hers. Personally, I couldn’t see what she saw in him, but I figured that was her business. Georgine got real mad about it, though; she told Pat she was letting him go too far with her, and they had another big fight, but it didn’t last long.

  Anyway, on the whole we had a wonderful time in Paris, seeing all the sights and everything—Notre Dame, the Sacré-Coeur, the Eiffel Tower, everything. The Eiffel Tower was where the Frenchman tried to pick Pat up—I wrote you about that; wasn’t that a scream? I mean he must of been fifty if he was a day, and there was the wedding ring right on his finger and everything. We finally had to take Pat into a taxi and drive away to get rid of him. And the Sacré-Coeur was where we took a lot of pictures—they’re all terrible of me, as usual; my coat makes me look fat or something. You’ll see them when you’re over at the house Friday.

  Oh, and of course we bought a lot of things, besides clothes, I mean. At the cafés, they have these little men—Arabs, I guess they are—and they come around and sell all these handworked leather things: wallets, handbags, everything like that. I bought this great big cushion case—I mean it’s a leather case for a hassock, like, and you stuff it yourself?—I thought it’d look good in the alcove at home. And I bought your perfume. And listen, Grace, if you don’t like it, when you’re over Friday, I’ll tell you what, maybe you could trade with my mother. I mean I think the bottle I bought her may be a little bit more your type than hers. See what you think, anyway.

  So I stayed in Paris about three weeks, and then I was on my own again. Pat and Georgine stayed on at the hotel a while longer; they were going to visit Pat’s brother in Germany and then go home. But I left, and that’s when I went down to Cannes, on the Riviera? Honestly, Grace, it’s really wonderful down there. First of all, the hotel was really nice; I mean the food was out of this world, and they were all so courteous and polite and everything. I was a little lonesome at first, but right away I met this real nice girl Norma—I wrote you a lot about her, remember? The one that was a schoolteacher in Rhode Island?

  So we went swimming down there every day, Norma and me. At first I was scared to wear either of the bikini bathing suits I’d bought in Paris even though almost all the other girls wear them down there, and when I finally did wear one out to the beach Norma kidded me about it and I felt so self-conscious—honestly, it was terrible—so after that I went back to my old suit. Now I don’t know when I’ll ever get a chance to wear them. Probably they’d be all right for sunbathing or something, up on the roof.

  Anyway, there was this real cute French fella there—he was what they call the physical culturist on the beach; gives people lessons in calisthenics, you know, and all like that?—and believe me, Grace, you never saw such a build in your life. Arms? My God, he had arms like that. And tan? I’m telling you, he was a real handsome specimen. But let me tell you what happened—it was really a scream. Well, I got to talking to him, he spoke a little English, and I thought he was going to ask for a date or something, you know? I mean, he seemed to like me a whole lot and everything, but he never did. So one time I happened to mention him to Norma, and she says something about how Jeanne must consider herself a very lucky girl. So I says, “Who’s Jeanne?” And she says, “Why, the girl over there, didn’t you know?” And she pointed to this real cute little blonde who worked at a counter there on the beach, selling soda and stuff. I says, “You mean she’s his wife or something?” And Norma gives me this big wink and says, “Well, not exactly his wife.” So it turned out she was his mistress, like, and everybody knew it, and here I am flirting with the guy to beat the band. And the funny part was, the girl didn’t seem to mind at all—I mean, she always smiled at me and acted real sweet; she didn’t seem to care who the guy made eyes at.

  Well, so anyway, then Norma and I went to Nice together, but we didn’t care for it much and we only stayed about a day before we took the train for Venice. Well, Venice was where we really went sight-seeing. Norma was a great one for sight-seeing anyway and she’d really read up on Italy. I’ll show you some of the pictures we took when you’re over Friday. There’s one of Norma and me in a gondola—it’s terrible of me, though; I’m like a mole, you can’t see my eyes. We bought a few things there in Venice too. That’s where I bought this silver brooch I’m wearing, and also this cigarette lighter. We didn’t meet any fellas in Venice either, but I really think we had just as good a time by ourselves, and we probably got to see a lot more of the sights and everything than if we’d been going out on dates every night. But when we left Venice was when the only really bad thing of the whole trip happened.

  Our last day there, before we went to Rome, Norma said why didn’t we try eating at this little restaurant she’d seen, this real picturesque little place. We’d eaten all our other meals at the hotel, see, where the food was real good, and I said okay, so we did. Well, I thought there was something funny about the food the minute we started eating, or maybe it was the wine, but Norma says, “Ah, it’s just your imagination.” Anyway, we ate this big meal and then got right on the train, and my God, half an hour later we were both sick as a dog. Honestly, all I remember about that trip to Rome was running up and down to the lavatory on that train. I mean, it must of been ptomaine or something; I’ve never been so sick in my life. And when we got to Rome it was all we could do to get into a taxi and go to the hotel and lay down, for two solid days. And after that, whenever I saw a bottle of that red Italian wine, or any of the things we ate that night, I could feel it all coming back.

  But after that was over—and I mean, we were really lucky, because it was the only bad thing that happened on the whole trip—after that we got out and saw the town, went to the Vatican and all. Norma only had a few days left before she had to go to Sicily, so we had to do some fast and furious sight-seeing. Norma was a big help; I mean, she spoke a little Italian, and like I said she’d really read up on the subject, so she could explain all about these old Roman ruins and things as we went along.

  Anyway, after Norma left I didn’t feel much like sight-seeing any more, and my money was running low anyway, so I stayed pretty close to the hotel for a couple of days. And then one night about three days before I had to go back to Le Havre to catch the boat, I went down to the lobby to buy some American magazines, and that’s when I ran smack into Walter Meltzer, the fella I’d met on the boat? I mean, it was really a coincidence, staying at the same hotel and everything. So we ate dinner there in the hotel and then went to this nightclub, like, where they had this real good music. We had a pretty good time, and in a way I was a little sorry I gave him that brush-off on the boat, but still—I don’t know, he wasn’t my type. More your type, I think, Grace; you would of probably liked him a whole lot.

  So anyway, that’s about all there was. I hung around Rome a few more days and then started back to Le Havre. I stayed a day in Paris, tried to look up Pat and Georgine but they’d already gone to Germany. Oh, and I saw the most adorable dress that day, but I didn’t have the money to buy it—honestly, I could of kicked myself. So, the next day I went to Le Havre, and that was that. There was a fella on the boat coming home, kind of an elderly man, who kept making eyes at me and trying to get me into a conversation and everything, but I didn’t give him a tumble.

  Oh, my God, Grace, look what time it is. My mother’ll really kill me—oh, and look, you went and ordered me another cup of coffee while I was gabbing away. Well, long as it’s here I guess I’ll have to drink it, huh. I’m so late now another ten minutes isn’t going to hurt—it’s too late to get to the cleaner’s now anyway. Besides, if Marty comes early he can wait; it won’t kill him.

  So here I’ve been talking a blue streak and I didn’t even let you get a word in edgeways. But honestly, this is like old times, isn’t it? Remember all the times we sat here planning my trip, with the maps and all? And now here we are again, and it’s all over, and all tha
t money’s spent and everything. But I still don’t think I could of used the money for any better purpose, you know it? I mean, it was something I’ll always remember. Boy, is that coffee ever good—let me tell you, the only place in the world you’ll ever get coffee like that is right here in New York.

  Gee, it seems funny, though, you know? I mean, here I am home again, and in another two months I’ll be getting married and everything—Mrs. Martin Krom. Can you imagine? Oh, and honestly, Grace, Marty’s been acting so funny since I got back. He never did like the idea of the trip, you know, even though he never tried to talk me out of it or anything. I mean, we always had that understanding, right from the start, even before we got engaged. I always told him, “Look, I’ve been saving up and planning for this trip a long time, and I still have every intention of taking it.” I mean, you know how I felt about it; it was going to be a last fling, like, before I settled down.

  But anyway, I guess the fellas in Marty’s office must of been kidding him about it or something, because listen, you know what he asked me the first night I was home? He asked me did I wear my engagement ring while I was gone. Well, I mean, I didn’t mind him asking me, but something about the way he said it made me mad, you know? So I says, “Whaddya think I’d wear that for? Whaddya think I’m going to do, spoil the whole trip for myself? Keep myself from having any fun?”

  He says, “Well, that seems like a funny way for an engaged girl to act.” So I says, “Listen, don’t give me that.” I says, “A man never has to wear an engagement ring, so it’s all right for you to talk. A man’s supposed to be some kind of a privileged character, everybody lets him do what he likes.” I says, “Listen, I seen plenty of men take a last fling before they get married, but just because a girl does it you give me this stuff about a funny way to act.”

  He says, “Well, you don’t see me doing it, do you?”