“Oh. Then it must be right.”
“And you see? He didn’t try anything, anything at all. He was a perfect gentleman, and he got me drinks all night, which is a lot more than you did.”
“That’s true,” Griff said.
“Am I drunk?” she asked.
“Yes, I think so.”
“Well, then, I’m drunk, So what?”
“So nothing. I wish I were drunk.”
“You do not. If you wished you were drunk, you’d be drunk.”
“Suppose I wished… well, never mind.”
“Anything you wish, you get. I wished I was a model, and tonight I was a model. You see?”
“I see.”
“You do not. You’re trying to humor me. Only you haven’t got a sense of humor.”
“I’m just a clam. Clams never laugh.”
“No, but they make pearls.”
“Oysters—”
“Don’t talk about clams or oysters, please,” she said. “I don’t think I feel so good.”
“All right.”
“You’re a very accommodating fellow, did you know that? My wish is your command. You’re kind, courteous, sincere—”
“Yes, I know. I’m a gem.”
“Hey, do you know something?”
“What?”
“I think there were a lot of sluts there tonight. What do you think of that?”
“It’s entirely likely,” Griff said.
“Certainly. Even Mac said so. Well, you know, he was talking about one with you, before you shook hands.”
“Yes,” Griff said.
“Was he trying to hurt you?”
“When?”
“When he shook hands with you?”
“No.”
“Oh. I thought he was trying to hurt you.”
“No.”
“I thought he was.” She wet her lips. “I like April.”
“Do you?”
“Yes. Don’t you like April?”
“It’s all right, I suppose.”
“I keep forgetting. Clams don’t like anything.”
“Except other clams.”
“How do clams…?” She put her hand to her mouth. “Oops, never mind.”
“The same way oysters do,” he said.
“It must be dull.” She hiccupped. “Excuse me.”
“You’re excused.”
“April is very nice and misty. It always reminds me of sad songs, ‘Yesterday’s Gardenias’ or ‘Blue Rain’ or ‘Serenade in Blue,’ songs like that.”
“You left out the most important one,” Griff said.
“Which?”
“‘I Remember April.’”
“Oh, yes, yes, yes. And ‘Laura.’ That’s an April song, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“You feel like growing in April, don’t you? Everything else is growing, and you feel like growing with it, don’t you? Do clams grow?”
“Clams grow.”
“In April?”
“In April.”
“Maybe it isn’t so bad being a clam. In April. I can’t see it during January. Clams must be very lonely in January.”
“Well, it’s a lonely life,” Griff said, “but we try to manage.”
“Are you feeling a little better now?”
“Yes, a little.”
“That’s good. Hey, did Mac hurt you?”
“No.”
“What were you doing then? You looked like two kids trying to… I don’t know. You looked sort of stupid.”
“Did we?”
Marge shrugged. “I could use a cup of coffee, do you know that?”
“We can stop somewhere.”
“No, no, I’ll make some for us when we get home.”
“Your parents…”
“No, I don’t live with my parents. Didn’t you know that? I used to live with a roommate, but she got married. I moved out of my parents’ house when I was twenty-one. I think that’s significant.”
“Is it?”
“Certainly. When you’re twenty-one, you’re on your own. That’s the way I feel. You don’t live with your parents, do you?”
“My parents are dead,” Griff said.
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
“That’s all right.”
“Oh, Griff, I’m so terribly sorry. Griff, you make me feel like crying.”
“They’ve been dead a long time,” Griff said.
“Griff, please don’t say anything else because I’ll bust out crying, and I don’t want to cry, Griff, please, it’s been such a lovely night.”
“Let’s go back to clams,” he said. “They’re safe.”
“You’re a nice boy, Griff.”
“You’re a nice girl.”
“And I don’t really think you have no sense of humor. And I don’t really think you’re a clam.”
“But I am,” he said. “I thrive on sea vegetation.”
“No, really,” she said, smiling.
“Really. Clams never lie.”
“I think I’m beginning to sober up,” she said.
“Good.”
“But I’d still like a cup of coffee. You’ll come up, won’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Is it terrible for a girl to get drunk? Whenever I see a drunken woman, I lose all respect for her.”
“No, it’s not so terrible.”
“Did I do anything silly? Like putting a lampshade on my head or anything?”
“No. Unless…” He drew the word out.
“Unless what?”
“Well, that dance you did,” he lied.
“What dance?” she asked, her eyes widening.
“When you took off all your clothes.”
“Griff, I didn’t!” she said horrified.
“You were quite a hit.”
“Griff, no! No, please, I didn’t!” She hesitated uncertainly. In a small voice, she asked, “Did I?”
“No.”
She let out her breath. “Now I am sober. Oh, God, you gave me a scare. You’re a stinker.”
“Where do you want to get out?” the cabbie asked, turning suddenly.
Marge leaned forward. “Oh, are we here already?” She peered through the windshield. “The third house there, on the left,” she said. The cabbie nodded and edged the cab over toward the curb. They got out, and Griff paid the man, and then they started up the steps of the red brick building.
“This is the tail end of Greenwich Village,” Marge said. “Those smelly things on your right are factories.”
“Nice,” Griff said.
“Yes, very pleasant. I work in a factory all day long, and then I come home and look out my window at other factories. I guess it’s really immature, but I like living in the Village.”
“Besides, it’s cheap.”
“No. No, it’s very expensive. The days when an artist could suffer in the Village are dead and gone. All the landlords know the Village is a desirable place now, so you have to pay an arm for a hole in the wall. Well, you’ll see. You know, I’m quite sober now.”
“I’m glad.”
“I am, too. It’s fun being drunk, but it’s better being me.”
She began fishing in her purse as they started up the steps. “I’m on the fourth floor, so conserve your breath.”
“All right.”
“On your left is the apartment of my landlady. She is probably drunk. She always is.”
“Um-huh.”
They climbed steadily. On the third floor, Marge said, “Adjust your oxygen masks.”
“Roger,” Griff answered.
They reached the fourth floor and walked to a door at the end of the corridor. Marge inserted her key and twisted it. Griff threw open the door for her. She bowed and made a grand gesture with one arm, like a courier in the presence of Queen Elizabeth.
“Enter. It isn’t much, but it’s homely.”
She snapped on a light, and they stepped into the small apartment.
“The kitchen,” she said. “Ignore the dishes in the sink, please.”
“They’re ignored.”
“In there, the combination sitting room, living room, bedroom. The john is right there, if you need it.” She took off her coat and hung it in one of the closets. “Your coat, sir.”