Gore Vidal

“ How delightful she was, thought Mr Heywood. “We must all,” said Mr Heywood in a voice that was like the sigh of a dying man, “do our appointed tasks. Duty is of such great importance: it is the only tangible thing in the chaos of living.”
“But I don’t think that’s so at all,” said Carla as gently as he but with less resignation. “One should always try to do what one wants to do.” ”

“ He got under the blanket and he closed his eyes tight and thought of nothing: thought of shapes and shadows and lights and colors and all the things that comprise nothing: he could not sleep.
Robert Holton made a case for himself as he lay in the occasionally broken dark.
He had no gift. He was an average person. Perhaps not quite average, he had had many advantages. He was among the many, though. He could not make a world separate. He wished now that he had told Carla that: he could not make a world separate. He belonged to the world of all people and it was wrong to retreat from that world. ”

“ They stood pressed against a building while hundreds of people pushed by them in a thick stream. Carla studied the lights, mesmerized by their colors: red passionate ones and guttering greens, blue and yellow glowing, and moving figures; they even had the lights turn on and off in such a fashion that silhouetted men appeared to dance and animated animals had adventures. The lights were most splendid and nowhere in the world was so much grandeur hung against the sky. Carla watched the lights. ”

“ Kuppelton was out of the room and no one else appeared interested. She sat down on his desk.
“I like him quite a bit,” she said.
He looked at her. “Good,” he said. “Jim’s a fine fellow. You’ll have fun playing around with him.”
“I suppose I will.”
“Just don’t take him too seriously, though. He’s sort of an expert with girls.” How shallow Holton was, thought Caroline. “Just play with him and you’ll be all right. A lot of girls’ve liked him.”
“I can understand that. He’s really serious about starting something himself. At least he doesn’t want to work for somebody like everybody else wants.” ”

“ Mr Heywood would pause and listen; then, when the other had finished, he would continue in his gentle voice to tell the others what clever men had told him about Steel, and the men, whose livings depended upon him, listened respectfully to their ideas.
Mr Murphy observed these things as he sat in his chair. He felt less important in these conferences but he did feel secure. Here in the boardroom he felt himself to be a part of something large and opulent—of American Business. This thought was comforting as well as sobering. There was no security in the world to equal that of belonging. ”

“ Holton tried consciously to recall what Lewis had said. But when he tried to hear speeches again he could not. Lewis’s voice began again, a disembodied voice speaking among colors in a place where all emotions were in a minor key.
“I think one must really barricade oneself against the world. One must retreat. Now don’t tell me it’s cowardly to retreat. Nothing in this world should be put on such a superficial basis as that. We are talking on different planes. That’s why communication is so difficult. Every argument is true and false and can be argued rightly from either side. ”

“ We all live there. I wish sometimes that I lived alone.”
“It’s not much fun, living alone,” said Robert Holton.
“Think you’ll get married soon?”
“I don’t think so.”
“I think I might,” said Richard Kuppelton weightily; he had no one in mind, though; except possibly Caroline.
“I guess it’s a good idea if you’ve got the right person,” said Robert Holton.
“That’s very true.” They thought of this a moment. Each thought of it seriously and each regarded it distantly. Richard Kuppelton had no real desire to be married. He supposed that Robert Holton felt the same. ”

“ There was silence in the room—no sound save the unheard thundering of many quick-beating hearts. The ones who understood were too moved to speak and the ones who did not understand were embarrassed and sickened, aware of their danger, and afraid.
He bowed to the audience now, his moist red mouth smiling brilliantly, the mouth of an actress awaiting applause. The applause came, destroying the silence in the room, creating another less frightening mood, replenishing his ego.
Smiling, he walked in triumph off the stage. ”

“ There was much more steam in the kitchen now than there had been at breakfast; as the day passed the kitchen got hotter, and steamier, and the cooks got more irritable and Mrs Merrin more nervous and Marjorie Ventusa would become tired and sad.
She called the new orders to the cook. Then she picked up two small glasses of tomato juice and put them on her tray. She fingered one of them a moment, thinking that soon he would be drinking from it. She enjoyed thinking of this, though it only made her desire stronger and her sadness greater. ”

“ Carla laughed. “No, Laura, to Bankton in England.”
“The painter?”
“The painter. We’ve been married two years.”
“Are you happy?” There was a dark note in her voice as she said this and Carla could tell that it was something she wanted to know.
“I am not unhappy,” said Carla, knowing that this was no answer but she hoped that Holton would grasp her meaning.
“I’m sorry,” said Laura Whitner almost undramatically. “I married again, you know.”
“I heard you did. Is he here tonight? I used to know him.”
“He couldn’t come, he’s working on a show. Are you going to have children?” ”

“ Younger men of affairs, wearing bowler hats and dark coats with darker velvet lapels, marched solemnly in the parade of business. The white-faced clerks squinted at the bright sun. Women secretaries walked together, admiring themselves in the windows. As they walked they talked to each other and to themselves.
“What a nice day,” said Caroline, breathing deeply and coughing as the exhaust fumes tickled her throat.
“Must be nice in the country,” commented Robert Holton.
“Not you too?” Caroline laughed. “First Murphy and now you want to go out in the country.” ”

“ Marjorie Ventusa traveled quickly back and forth from kitchen to dining room and back again. Her hair was hopelessly out of shape now and she was perspiring.
Finally her last customer was satisfied for the moment. She wandered casually over to Robert Holton’s table.
“Breakfast good?” she asked.
“Never better.”
“That don’t make it so good.” They laughed. He was always so polite with her. That was why she liked him, she thought. He was very kind. He was handsome, too, but that wasn’t as important as being polite. A lot of fine people were not handsome. ”

“ A dark genteel girl sat behind a reception desk.
“Good morning, Caroline,” she said in a nasal voice. “Good morning, Bob.”
“Hello, Ruth,” said Robert Holton, and Caroline Lawson smiled at her.
“Anything new?” asked Robert Holton.
“Not a thing, Bob, not a thing. Everything’s just as dull as ever. Of course, it’s still early.”
“Sure,” said Caroline, amused at the thought of anything interesting happening to them, “the day’s just started.”
“Is the boss in yet?” asked Robert Holton. He was terribly afraid of getting in bad, thought Caroline, looking at him. He was rather cowardly but nice. ”

“ You understand this?”
“I suppose so,” said Robert Holton. He is beginning to understand, thought Carla, happy now: her words had begun to build the bridge between them. Soon they would meet again.
“You’ve certainly had a funny life,” said Holton, smiling.
“Sometimes I think so but then the most important thing is making a freedom for oneself. When that’s done nothing is strange because everything is natural. ”

“ Cripples and bums sang songs and rattled tin cups. It was hard to tell what they were looking for besides charity. Perhaps they had stopped their long search. Carla was sorry for them.
Hot stale air rushed out of the theater lobbies and from the bars and restaurants; stale air rushed upward from the subway ventilators in the sidewalk. The cool night was defeated by the city, even the darkness had been defeated for it was as light as day, as light as day and much prettier and more exciting.
“What a place!” said Carla. “So much is here. Is this the dream Lewis was talking about?” ”

“ They stayed with a family outside of the town; they stayed in a place called Fiesole.
Trebling remembered the house clearly: long and rambling, dirty-white stucco with small iron balconies beneath the larger windows. A rock garden, dusty gray-green olive trees and an unearthly view of the valley in which was Florence.
The house belonged to a family named Bruno, friends of Robert Holton’s mother. They had invited the two of them to stay as long as they liked: in those days it was a good policy to have American soldiers in one’s home.
Robert Holton had liked a girl named Carla. ”

“ She walked back to the kitchen. She frowned when she saw Mrs Merrin looking at her. She had to look serious even though she was happy. He had at least not wanted to tell her that he was out with another girl. She had made so many images of Holton and herself that she accepted an imagined closeness as real. He had not really been unfaithful this time.
She called out his order to the cook and then she fixed her snood in the steamy mirror. She had bought a dark snood and she noticed now that it made her hair look darker, look rather mysterious. It felt good to look mysterious. ”

“ Caroline was conscious of odors, too conscious of them. There were a great many unpleasant odors in the square: beer and cigarette smoke and exhaust; perfume and sweat and stale air from theaters and subways; food cooking—hot dogs, hamburgers, popcorn and peanuts. ”

“ They thought of Marjorie Ventusa for a moment then they didn’t think of her again.
Robert Holton shifted his position on the railing. Caroline looked about the familiar room. The older women were typing and using their adding machines; the younger women were watching Robert Holton; and the younger men (there were three of them) looked up occasionally to see what Caroline was doing. She posed a little for them. She didn’t pose haughtily, though. Caroline was too clever for that. She just looked girlish and rather innocent. None of them could understand her sadness and her longing. ”

“ She started to say something about her own family, some improbable but soothing lie, something to prove to herself that she was the same as Mrs Stevanson whose picture was so often in the papers. But she said nothing. She played with the ribbon of her typewriter.
“I hate staying in one place,” said Caroline, after a moment of silence.
“It’s no fun traveling,” said Robert Holton. “Moving around all the time; that’s what I didn’t like in the army. No, traveling’s pretty lousy.” ”

“ She was sensitive herself and that was what she wanted in life: a man who was as sensitive as she, someone who would respond to her moods. She looked at Robert Holton. He was sitting uneasily on the railing. No, he could never understand her great sadness. Perhaps no one would ever understand her. Caroline was sad, for it is a sad thing to be both pretty and sensitive.
“You’re going out tonight, aren’t you?”
Robert Holton nodded. “I’m going to a cocktail party; I’m going to Mrs Raymond Stevanson’s.” ”

“ Caroline was putting on her hat and Mr Murphy sat at his desk behind her, dreaming, his eyes fixed shrewdly upon nothing.
Robert Holton walked over to Caroline.
“Ready to go?”
She nodded. “All ready.” Together they walked through the emptying offices, rode down the crowded elevator, and stepped out into the more crowded street.
The sky was gray now and the sun had vanished behind buildings. The air was cool and the smell of exhaust was strong as cars moved slowly in the streets, trying to escape to less crowded places. They walked with the stream of people toward the subway opening. ”

“ She was an American woman and just as smart as any man. Caroline stood there looking at the square with Trebling who had just laughed and saved her from embarrassment; Caroline stood erect and sure of herself and her emancipation, her arm in his. ”

“ Finally they left the square.
He felt much better now that they were in the quieter darker places of the city. Mr Heywood was lonely now. He had always been lonely and that was his personal sadness. He wished that he were young. It was impossible to be lonely when one was young. He wished that he were Robert Holton.
Carla and Holton stopped to rest at the northern end of the square. They stood upon a small island of concrete surrounded by avenues. A red light shone across Holton’s face giving him a sinister expression. Carla laughed. ”