“He’s very kind and sensitive?he’s very generous.”
“I can see that he’s very sensitive,” I said.
“He’s the kindest person I’ve ever known,” Flora said.
“I’m glad to hear that,” I said, “but let’s talk about you now, shall we? I didn’t come here to talk about Peter.”
“But we’re living together, Daddy.”
“So I’ve been told. But the reason I came here, Flora, is to find out about you?what your plans are and so forth. I won’t disapprove of your plans, whatever they are. I simply want to know what they are. You can’t spend the rest of your life gluing butterflies to skeletons. All I want to know is what you plan to do with your life.”
“I don’t know, Daddy.” She raised her face. “Nobody my age knows.”
“I’m not taking a consensus of your generation. I am asking you. I am asking you what you would like to make of your life. I am asking you what ideas you have, what dreams you have, what hopes you have for yourself.”
“I don’t know, Daddy. Nobody my age knows.”
“I wish you would eliminate the rest of your generation. I am acquainted with at least fifty girls your age who know precisely what they want to do. They want to be historians, editors, doctors, housewives, and mothers. They want to do something useful.”
Peter came back with a bottle of bourbon but he did not return any change. Was this cupidity, I wondered, or absent-mindedness? I said nothing. Flora brought me a glass and some water, and I asked if they would join me in a drink.
“We don’t drink much,” Peter said.
“Well, I’m glad to hear that,” I said. “While you were out, I talked with Flora about her plans. That is, I discovered that she doesn’t have any plans, and since she doesn’t I’m going to take her back to Bullet Park with me until her thinking is a little more decisive.”
“I’m going to stay with Peter,” Flora said.
“But supposing Peter had to go away?” I asked. “Suppose Peter had some interesting offer, such as six months or a year abroad?what would you do then?”
“Oh, Daddy,” she asked, “you wouldn’t do that, would you?”
“Oh yes I would, I most certainly would,” I said. “I would do anything on heaven or earth that I thought might bring you to your senses. Would you like to go abroad, Peter?”
“I don’t know,” he said. His face could not be said to have brightened, but for a moment his intelligence seemed engaged. “I’d like to go to East Berlin,” he said.
“Why?”
“I’d like to go to East Berlin and give my American passport to some great creative person,” he said, “some writer or musician, and let him escape to the free world.”
“Why,” I asked, “don’t you paint Peace on your arse and jump off a twelve-story building?”
This was a mistake, a disaster, a catastrophe, and I poured myself some more bourbon. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m tired. However, my offer still stands. If you want to go to Europe, Peter, I’ll be happy to pay your bills.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Peter said. “I’ve been. I mean, I’ve seen most of it.”
“Well, keep it in mind,” I said. “And as for you, Flora, I want you to come home with me. Come home for a week or two, anyhow. That’s all I ask. Ten years from now you will reproach me for not having guided you out of this mess. Ten years from now you’ll ask me, ‘Daddy, Daddy, oh, Daddy, why didn’t you teach me not to spend the best years of my life in a slum?’ I can’t bear the thought of you coming to me ten years from now, to blame me for not having forced you to take my advice.”
“I won’t go home.”
“You can’t stay here.”
