第69章
《THE CATCHER IN THE RYE(麦田里的守望者英文版)》章节:第69章,宠文网网友提供全文无弹窗免费在线阅读。!
"She's fine, thanks. I haven't seen her too recently, but the last I--"
"Darling, if Holden needs anything, everything's in the linen closet. The top shelf.
I'm going to bed. I'm exhausted," Mrs. Antolini said. She looked it, too. "Can you boys
make up the couch by yourselves?"
"We'll take care of everything. You run along to bed," Mr. Antolini said. He gave
Mrs. Antolini a kiss and she said good-by to me and went in the bedroom. They were
always kissing each other a lot in public.
I had part of a cup of coffee and about half of some cake that was as hard as a
rock. All old Mr. Antolini had was another highball, though. He makes them strong, too,
you could tell. He may get to be an alcoholic if he doesn't watch his step.
"I had lunch with your dad a couple of weeks ago," he said all of a sudden. "Did
you know that?"
"No, I didn't."
"You're aware, of course, that he's terribly concerned about you."
"I know it. I know he is," I said.
"Apparently before he phoned me he'd just had a long, rather harrowing letter
from your latest headmaster, to the effect that you were making absolutely no effort at all.
Cutting classes. Coming unprepared to all your classes. In general, being an all-around--"
"I didn't cut any classes. You weren't allowed to cut any. There were a couple of
them I didn't attend once in a while, like that Oral Expression I told you about, but I
didn't cut any."
I didn't feel at all like discussing it. The coffee made my stomach feel a little
better, but I still had this awful headache.
Mr. Antolini lit another cigarette. He smoked like a fiend. Then he said, "Frankly,
I don't know what the hell to say to you, Holden."
"I know. I'm very hard to talk to. I realize that."
"I have a feeling that you're riding for some kind of a terrible, terrible fall. But I
don't honestly know what kind. . . Are you listening to me?"
"Yes."
You could tell he was trying to concentrate and all.
"It may be the kind where, at the age of thirty, you sit in some bar hating
everybody who comes in looking as if he might have played football in college. Then
again, you may pick up just enough education to hate people who say, 'It's a secret
between he and I.' Or you may end up in some business office, throwing paper clips at the
nearest stenographer. I just don't know. But do you know what I'm driving at, at all?"
"Yes. Sure," I said. I did, too. "But you're wrong about that hating business. I
mean about hating football players and all. You really are. I don't hate too many guys.
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What I may do, I may hate them for a little while, like this guy Stradlater I knew at
Pencey, and this other boy, Robert Ackley. I hated them once in a while--I admit it--but it
doesn't last too long, is what I mean. After a while, if I didn't see them, if they didn't
come in the room, or if I didn't see them in the dining room for a couple of meals, I sort
of missed them. I mean I sort of missed them."
Mr. Antolini didn't say anything for a while. He got up and got another hunk of
ice and put it in his drink, then he sat down again. You could tell he was thinking. I kept
wishing, though, that he'd continue the conversation in the morning, instead of now, but
he was hot. People are mostly hot to have a discussion when you're not.
"All right. Listen to me a minute now . . . I may not word this as memorably as I'd
like to, but I'll write you a letter about it in a day or two. Then you can get it all straight.
But listen now, anyway." He started concentrating again. Then he said, "This fall I think
you're riding for--it's a special kind of fall, a horrible kind. The man falling isn't permitted
to feel or hear himself hit bottom. He just keeps falling and falling. The whole
arrangement's designed for men who, at some time or other in their lives, were looking
for something their own environment couldn't supply them with. Or they thought their
own environment couldn't supply them with. So they gave up looking. They gave it up
before they ever really even got started. You follow me?"