第66章
《THE CATCHER IN THE RYE(麦田里的守望者英文版)》章节:第66章,宠文网网友提供全文无弹窗免费在线阅读。!
"I said them in the bathroom. G'night!"
"Good night. Go right to sleep now. I have a splitting headache," my mother said.
She gets headaches quite frequently. She really does.
"Take a few aspirins," old Phoebe said. "Holden'll be home on Wednesday, won't
he?"
"So far as I know. Get under there, now. Way down."
I heard my mother go out and close the door. I waited a couple of minutes. Then I
came out of the closet. I bumped smack into old Phoebe when I did it, because it was so
dark and she was out of bed and coming to tell me. "I hurt you?" I said. You had to
whisper now, because they were both home. "I gotta get a move on," I said. I found the
edge of the bed in the dark and sat down on it and started putting on my shoes. I was
pretty nervous. I admit it.
"Don't go now," Phoebe whispered. "Wait'll they're asleep!"
"No. Now. Now's the best time," I said. "She'll be in the bathroom and Daddy'll
turn on the news or something. Now's the best time." I could hardly tie my shoelaces, I
was so damn nervous. Not that they would've killed me or anything if they'd caught me
home, but it would've been very unpleasant and all. "Where the hell are ya?" I said to old
Phoebe. It was so dark I couldn't see her.
"Here." She was standing right next to me. I didn't even see her.
"I got my damn bags at the station," I said. "Listen. You got any dough, Phoeb?
I'm practically broke."
"Just my Christmas dough. For presents and all. I haven't done any shopping at all
yet."
"Oh." I didn't want to take her Christmas dough.
"You want some?" she said.
"I don't want to take your Christmas dough."
"I can lend you some," she said. Then I heard her over at D.B.'s desk, opening a
million drawers and feeling around with her hand. It was pitch-black, it was so dark in the
room. "If you go away, you won't see me in the play," she said. Her voice sounded funny
when she said it.
"Yes, I will. I won't go way before that. You think I wanna miss the play?" I said.
"What I'll do, I'll probably stay at Mr. Antolini's house till maybe Tuesday night. Then I'll
come home. If I get a chance, I'll phone ya."
"Here," old Phoebe said. She was trying to give me the dough, but she couldn't
find my hand.
"Where?"
She put the dough in my hand.
"Hey, I don't need all this," I said. "Just give me two bucks, is all. No kidding--
Here." I tried to give it back to her, but she wouldn't take it.
"You can take it all. You can pay me back. Bring it to the play."
en8848
"How much is it, for God's sake?"
"Eight dollars and eighty-five cents. Sixty-five cents. I spent some."
Then, all of a sudden, I started to cry. I couldn't help it. I did it so nobody could
hear me, but I did it. It scared hell out of old Phoebe when I started doing it, and she
came over and tried to make me stop, but once you get started, you can't just stop on a
goddam dime. I was still sitting on the edge of the bed when I did it, and she put her old
arm around my neck, and I put my arm around her, too, but I still couldn't stop for a long
time. I thought I was going to choke to death or something. Boy, I scared hell out of poor
old Phoebe. The damn window was open and everything, and I could feel her shivering
and all, because all she had on was her pajamas. I tried to make her get back in bed, but
she wouldn't go. Finally I stopped. But it certainly took me a long, long time. Then I
finished buttoning my coat and all. I told her I'd keep in touch with her. She told me I
could sleep with her if I wanted to, but I said no, that I'd better beat it, that Mr. Antolini
was waiting for me and all. Then I took my hunting hat out of my coat pocket and gave it
to her. She likes those kind of crazy hats. She didn't want to take it, but I made her. I'll bet
she slept with it on. She really likes those kind of hats. Then I told her again I'd give her a
buzz if I got a chance, and then I left.
It was a helluva lot easier getting out of the house than it was getting in, for some
reason. For one thing, I didn't give much of a damn any more if they caught me. I really
didn't. I figured if they caught me, they caught me. I almost wished they did, in a way.
I walked all the way downstairs, instead of taking the elevator. I went down the
back stairs. I nearly broke my neck on about ten million garbage pails, but I got out all
right. The elevator boy didn't even see me. He probably still thinks I'm up at the
Dicksteins'.
24
Mr. and Mrs. Antolini had this very swanky apartment over on Sutton Place, with
two steps that you go down to get in the living room, and a bar and all. I'd been there
quite a few times, because after I left Elkton Hills Mr. Antoilni came up to our house for
dinner quite frequently to find out how I was getting along. He wasn't married then. Then
when he got married, I used to play tennis with he and Mrs. Antolini quite frequently, out
at the West Side Tennis Club, in Forest Hills, Long Island. Mrs. Antolini, belonged there.
She was lousy with dough. She was about sixty years older than Mr. Antolini, but they
seemed to get along quite well. For one thing, they were both very intellectual, especially
Mr. Antolini except that he was more witty than intellectual when you were with him,
sort of like D.B. Mrs. Antolini was mostly serious. She had asthma pretty bad. They both
read all D.B.'s stories--Mrs. Antolini, too--and when D.B. went to Hollywood, Mr.
Antolini phoned him up and told him not to go. He went anyway, though. Mr. Antolini
said that anybody that could write like D.B. had no business going out to Hollywood.
That's exactly what I said, practically.
I would have walked down to their house, because I didn't want to spend any of
Phoebe's Christmas dough that I didn't have to, but I felt funny when I got outside. Sort of
dizzy. So I took a cab. I didn't want to, but I did. I had a helluva time even finding a cab.
Old Mr. Antolini answered the door when I rang the bell--after the elevator boy
finally let me up, the bastard. He had on his bathrobe and slippers, and he had a highball
in one hand. He was a pretty sophisticated guy, and he was a pretty heavy drinker.
"Holden, m'boy!"