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Nine Stories Page 1

Nine Stories

Jerome David Salinger

NINE STORIES

We know the sound of two hands clapping. But what is the

sound of one hand clapping?

A ZEN KOAN

by J. D. Salinger

A Perfect Day for Bananafish

THERE WERE ninety-seven New York advertising men in the hotel, and, the way they were monopolizing the long-distance lines, the girl in 507 had to wait from noon till almost two-thirty to get her call through. She used the time, though. She read an article in a women's pocket-size magazine, called <<>> She washed her comb and brush. She took the spot out of the skirt of her beige suit. She moved the button on her Saks blouse. She tweezed out two freshly surfaced hairs in her mole. When the operator finally rang her room, she was sitting on the window seat and had almost finished putting lacquer on the nails of her left hand.

She was a girl who for a ringing phone dropped exactly nothing. She looked as if her phone had been ringing continually ever since she had reached puberty.

With her little lacquer brush, while the phone was ringing, she went over the nail of her little finger, accentuating the line of the moon. She then replaced the cap on the bottle of lacquer and, standing up, passed her left--the wet--hand back and forth through the air. With her dry hand, she picked up a congested ashtray from the window seat and carried it with her over to the night table, on which the phone stood. She sat down on one of the made-up twin beds and--it was the fifth or sixth ring--picked up the phone.

<<
<<
<<
A woman's voice came through. <<>>

The girl turned the receiver slightly away from her ear. <<>> she said.

<<>> <<>> <<>>

The girl increased the angle between the receiver and her ear. <<>> <<>>

<<>> <<>> <<>>

<<>>

<<>>

<<>>

<<>> <<>>

<<>> <<>>

<<>> <<>>

<<>> <<>> <<
<<>>

<<>>

<<>>

<<>>

<<>>

<<
<<>> <<>> <<>>

<<>> said the girl.

<<>> <<>> <<>>

<<>> <<>> <<>> she said, exhaling smoke.

<<>>

<<>>

<<>>

<<>> said the girl.

<<
That business with the window. Those horrible things he said to Granny about her plans for passing away. What he did with all those lovely pictures from Bermuda--everything.>>> <<>> said the girl.

<<>> <<
<<>>

<<>> <<>>

<<>>

<<>> <<>>

<<>> <<>> <<>> <<>>

<<>>

<<>>

<<>>

<<>>

<<>>

<<
<<>> <<>> <<>>

<<>> <<>>

<<
His wife was horrible. You remember that awful dinner dress we saw in Bonwit's window? The one you said you'd have to have a tiny, tiny-->>> <<>>

<<ps. She kept asking me if Seymour's related to that Suzanne Glass that has that place on Madison Avenue--the millinery.>>> <<>>

<<>> <<>> <<>> <<>> <<>> <<>>

<<>>

<<>>

<<
<<>>

<<
said the girl. <<>> <<>>

<<>>

<<>> <<>> <<>>

<<>>

<<>> <<>> <<>> <<>> <<>>

<<>>

<<>> <<>> <<>>

<<>> <<>>

<<>>

<<
<<>> <<>> <<>> <<>>

<<
<<
Do you hear me?>>>

<<>>

<<>>

<<>> She hung up.

<<
<<>>

<<>> Mrs. Carpenter was putting sun-tan oil on Sybil's shoulders, spreading it down over the delicate, winglike blades of her back. Sybil was sitting insecurely on a huge, inflated beach ball, facing the ocean. She was wearing a canary-yellow two-piece bathing suit, one piece of which she would not actually be needing for another nine or ten years.

<<>> <<>> <<>> said Sybil.

Mrs. Carpenter sighed. <<>> Set loose, Sybil immediately ran down to the flat part of the beach and began to walk in the direction of Fisherman's Pavilion. Stopping only to sink a foot in a soggy, collapsed castle, she was soon out of the area reserved for guests of the hotel.

She walked for about a quarter of a mile and then suddenly broke into an oblique run up the soft part of the beach. She stopped short when she reached the place where a young man was lying on his back.

<<>> she said.

The young man started, his right hand going to the lapels of his terry-cloth robe. He turned over on his stomach, letting a sausaged towel fall away from his eyes, and squinted up at Sybil.

<<>>

<<>>

<<>> <<>> said Sybil.

<<>>

<<
<<>> <<>> Sybil said.

<<>> the young man brushed some sand out of his thin hair. <<>> Lying prone now, he made two fists, set one on top of the other, and rested his chin on the top one. <<>> Sybil stared at him, then looked down at her protruding stomach. <<
she said. <<>>

<<>> Sybil took a step forward. <<>> <<>> Sybil said.

<<>> Sybil prodded the rubber float that the young man sometimes used as a head-rest. <<
<<>> He took away his fists and let his chin rest on the sand. <<
Tell me about yourself.>>> He reached in front of him and took both of Sybil's ankles in his hands. <<>> <<
<<>>

Sybil nodded vigorously.

He let go of her ankles, drew in his hands, and laid the side of his face on his right forearm. <<>> <<>>

<<>> <<>>

<<>>

Sybil immediately stooped and began to dig in the sand. <<
<<>> <<>> <<>>

<<>> He suddenly got to his feet. He looked at the ocean. <<>> <<>>

<<robe. He took off the robe. His shoulders were white and narrow, and his trunks were royal blue. He folded the robe, first lengthwise, then in thirds. He unrolled the towel he had used over his eyes, spread it out on the sand, and then laid the folded robe on top of it. He bent over, picked up the float, and secured it under his right arm. Then, with his left hand, he took Sybil's hand.

The two started to walk down to the ocean.

<<
Sybil shook her head.

<<>>

<<
<<>> Sybil stopped walking and yanked her hand away from him. She picked up an ordinary beach shell and looked at it with elaborate interest. She threw it down. <<
<<>> Sybil looked at him. <<>> She ran a few steps ahead of him, caught up her left foot in her left hand, and hopped two or three times.

<<
Sybil released her foot. <<>> she said.

<<>> He reached down and took back Sybil's hand. <<>> he asked her.

<<>>

<<>> <<
<<>> said the young man. <<>> <<>> Sybil asked.

<<>> asked the young man. <<>> <<>>

Sybil nodded. <<>> she asked.

<<>> <<>> Sybil asked.

<<

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