Читаем Fall and Rise полностью

“Yes you can. I’m sorry, I know how valuable your time is — but an hour, sixty minutes to the dot. And The Balcony, not The Library, which is a five-minute walk for you — you must know where it is. Next door to the Olympia, which is a lot less than less than halfway down and sometimes live chamber music there and always a decent lunch. I’ll even pick you up by cab — you can be waiting downstairs at twelve fifty-five.”

“Don’t pick me up, and can we make it at two? That way I might be able to get some work done, since I know I’ll sleep late tomorrow and maybe even wake up with a slight hangover.”

“What’s sleeping-late for you?”

“Just answer; I have to go.”

“Two it is, you kidding? Anything, even two-fifteen. And I’m glad you got home safe — you did, didn’t you? You’re not going to tell me tomorrow about any of tonight’s hand-to-hand skirmishes and battle wounds?”

“I’m safe. Don’t pry. Goodnight.”

Didn’t want to but how else? Not true, because — Damn, just should have said “Listen to me, it’s not only audacious of you to”—Not “audacious,” but — Oh, no big deal, and he’s looking out for me, isn’t that a laugh? No, it was stupid of me. Should have said “Call me another time, I’m bushed, goodnight,” and hung up. But it’s just lunch, falls in with my new directives, and though nosy and a bit nutty he’s a sweet enough guy and was he ever on-target about Peter. But I’ll establish right off with him — Already have a dozen more friends than I can hardly see even now and then — But come December — Clever — five days left in November — he caught me on that one — guy’s fast. Wait, do I have a luncheon date tomorrow? I look at my appointment book. No, and it’s only tomorrow, so I should be able to remember without writing it down. But I don’t know how groggy I’ll be in the morning or how much drink makes you forget overnight, so I write “Arthur Rosenthal, 2, The Balcony,” in tomorrow’s box. But come December I’m putting the kibosh to any frivolous social-going. Get a special phone-gadget installed so when I press a button it’ll keep the phone from ringing when I’m busy or sleeping and the service is closed. Heard of those.

I pick up the student’s paper. Why not put it off? Because I want to get all of them corrected so I can get to things I really want to do. “Morphology” again means what? It means morphine. It means latrine. I write on the paper with an arrow aimed at the word “Leonard, no more big words for me like this — I’m too lazy to look em up. And what’s with this postdeconunstru—? What about supercacographicexhibitionism? (Did I spel it rite?)” Phone rings. Now he’s blown it. Much too late to call twice the same night even if the last call was ten seconds ago and he was my husband-to-be and most loved lover. Whatever he has to say can hold till the morning and late into it. Stop on your own accord. Doesn’t. Shameless schmuck. I pick up the receiver. “Arthur, this better be good.”

“It isn’t Arthur, and I know it’s extremely late, but it’s Dan from tonight — Daniel Krin — is this Miss Winiker?”

“Who? Oh, I’m not going to pretend — I know who. Are you out of your mind? What could you want when it’s after two?”

“I’m sorry, but the clock, and this is no excuse, I’m looking at says it’s one — few minutes past — but it’s a bank clock, on a seedy street corner, and since I haven’t a watch or another clock to compare it with, it could well be wrong.”

“Whether it’s two or one—”

“You’re right — by all means — please believe I’m not disputing it. And you can’t know how sorry I am to call. Nor how I tried everything under the sun — sun’s hardly the word to use at this hour. Everything under the street light, perhaps, to resolve — and I shouldn’t make light of it — neither of those lights — beforehand the reason why I did call. But I couldn’t and it was an emergency which—”

“What kind of emergency, Mr. Krin? And let’s make this quick. So tell me, what kind? Because at this hour I don’t take emergency calls from people I’ve just met.”

“Please hear me out. You’re just about my last chance on this. The timing of my call’s all wrong but I don’t think the reason I called is. And by ‘last chance’ I meant, to help me out of a bad situation. And for the last fifteen minutes — you’re still there?”

“Make it quick.”

“For the last fifteen, because it was so late — and at the time I thought it was ten to one, so for a Friday not the latest of lates to call but still much too late — I debated with myself and thought ‘No, don’t call, too late, much too, I don’t know her, just met, etcet, spoke fifty words to her, hundred, tops, and maybe a hundred-fifty between us.’ But then, when I didn’t see any alternative, which I’ll get into, and I decided to call, but even then undecidedly, your phone was busy — a few minutes ago. So I thought ‘At least she’s up and at home, so if I call a minute from now and the line’s free, I won’t be waking her.’ Of course you’d be home if you were up.”