第55章
《THE CATCHER IN THE RYE(麦田里的守望者英文版)》章节:第55章,宠文网网友提供全文无弹窗免费在线阅读。!
this very cold lady's voice said.
"This is me. Holden Caulfield. Lemme speaka Sally, please."
"Sally's asleep. This is Sally's grandmother. Why are you calling at this hour,
Holden? Do you know what time it is?"
"Yeah. Wanna talka Sally. Very important. Put her on."
"Sally's asleep, young man. Call her tomorrow. Good night."
"Wake 'er up! Wake 'er up, hey. Attaboy."
Then there was a different voice. "Holden, this is me." It was old Sally. "What's
the big idea?"
"Sally? That you?"
"Yes--stop screaming. Are you drunk?"
"Yeah. Listen. Listen, hey. I'll come over Christmas Eve. Okay? Trimma goddarn
tree for ya. Okay? Okay, hey, Sally?"
"Yes. You're drunk. Go to bed now. Where are you? Who's with you?"
"Sally? I'll come over and trimma tree for ya, okay? Okay, hey?"
"Yes. Go to bed now. Where are you? Who's with you?"
"Nobody. Me, myself and I." Boy was I drunk! I was even still holding onto my
guts. "They got me. Rocky's mob got me. You know that? Sally, you know that?"
"I can't hear you. Go to bed now. I have to go. Call me tomorrow."
"Hey, Sally! You want me trimma tree for ya? Ya want me to? Huh?"
"Yes. Good night. Go home and go to bed."
She hung up on me.
"G'night. G'night, Sally baby. Sally sweetheart darling," I said. Can you imagine
how drunk I was? I hung up too, then. I figured she probably just came home from a date.
I pictured her out with the Lunts and all somewhere, and that Andover jerk. All of them
swimming around in a goddam pot of tea and saying sophisticated stuff to each other and
being charming and phony. I wished to God I hadn't even phoned her. When I'm drunk,
I'm a madman.
I stayed in the damn phone booth for quite a while. I kept holding onto the phone,
sort of, so I wouldn't pass out. I wasn't feeling too marvelous, to tell you the truth.
Finally, though, I came out and went in the men's room, staggering around like a moron,
and filled one of the washbowls with cold water. Then I dunked my head in it, right up to
the ears. I didn't even bother to dry it or anything. I just let the sonuvabitch drip. Then I
walked over to this radiator by the window and sat down on it. It was nice and warm. It
felt good because I was shivering like a bastard. It's a funny thing, I always shiver like
hell when I'm drunk.
I didn't have anything else to do, so I kept sitting on the radiator and counting
these little white squares on the floor. I was getting soaked. About a gallon of water was
dripping down my neck, getting all over my collar and tie and all, but I didn't give a
damn. I was too drunk to give a damn. Then, pretty soon, the guy that played the piano
for old Valencia, this very wavyhaired, flitty-looking guy, came in to comb his golden
locks. We sort of struck up a conversation while he was combing it, except that he wasn't
too goddam friendly.
"Hey. You gonna see that Valencia babe when you go back in the bar?" I asked
him.
"It's highly probable," he said. Witty bastard. All I ever meet is witty bastards.
"Listen. Give her my compliments. Ask her if that goddam waiter gave her my
message, willya?"
"Why don't you go home, Mac? How old are you, anyway?"
"Eighty-six. Listen. Give her my compliments. Okay?"
"Why don't you go home, Mac?"
"Not me. Boy, you can play that goddam piano." I told him. I was just flattering
him. He played the piano stinking, if you want to know the truth. "You oughta go on the
radio," I said. "Handsome chap like you. All those goddam golden locks. Ya need a
manager?"