nothing about art, that she was incapable of distinguishing between a good piece of work and a bad one. Which doesn't really matter, or rather wouldn't matter, if only she had the courage to admit it. But she hasn't. She must pretend that she knows everything, understands everything. I hate pretense. That's one of the reasons why I don't get along with people.
She paused to let this sink in. ! don't know how you stand it! You're full of nasty tricks, you do vile things now and then, and you're terribly prejudiced and unfair some times, but at least you're honest. You never pretend to be other than you are. Whereas Mona ... well, there's no telling who she is or what she is. She's a walking theatre. Wherever she goes, whatever she's doing, no matter whom she's talking to, she's on stage. It's sickening ... But I've told you all this before. You know it as well as I do.
An ironic smile slid over her face. Sometimes ... She hesitated a moment. Sometimes I wonder how she behaves in bed. I mean, does she fake that too?
A strange query, which I ignored.
I'm more normal than you would ever think, she continued. My defects are all on the surface. At bottom I'm a shy little girl who never grew up. Maybe it's a glandular disturbance. It would be funny, wouldn't it, if taking a few hormones daily should turn me into a typical female? What is it that makes me hate women so much? I was always that way. Don't laugh now, but honestly, it makes me sick to see a woman squat to pee. So ridiculous ... Sorry to hand you such trivia. I meant to tell you about the big things, the things that really bother me.
But I don't know where to begin. Besides, now that I'm I leaving, what's the point?
We were now half-way over the bridge. In a few minutes we would be among the pushcart vendors, passing shops whose show windows were always stacked with smoked fish, vegetables, onion rolls, huge loaves of bread, great cart-wheels of cheese, salted pretzels and other inviting edibles. In between would be wedding gowns, full dress suits, stove-pipe hats, corsets, lingerie, crutches, douche pans, bric-a-brac galore.
I wondered what it was she wanted to tell me—the vital thing, I mean.
When we get back, I said, there'll undoubtedly be a scene. If I were you, I'd pretend to change my mind, then sneak away the first chance you get. Otherwise she'll insist on going with you, if only to see you home safely.
An excellent idea, she thought. It made her smile. Such a thought would never have occurred to me, she confessed. I have no strategic sense whatever.
All the better for you, said I.
Talking of strategy, I wonder if you could help me raise a little money? I'm flat broke. I can't hitch hike across the country with a trunk and a heavy valise, can I?
(No, I thought to myself, but we could send them to you later.)
I'll do what I can, I said. You know I'm not very good at raising money. That's Mona's department. But I'll try.
Good, she said. A few days more or less won't matter.
We had come to the end of the span. I spotted an empty bench and steered her to it.
Let's rest a bit, I said.
Couldn't we get a coffee?
I've only got seven cents. And just two more cigarettes.
How do you manage when you're by your self? she asked.
That's different. When I'm alone things happen.
God takes care of you, is that it?
I lit a cigarette for her.
I'm getting frightfully hungry, she said, her wings drooping.
If it's that bad, let's start back.
I can't, it's too far. Wait a while.
I fished out a nickel and handed it to her. You take the subway and I'll walk. It's no hardship for me.
No, she said, we'll go back together ... I'm afraid to face her alone.
Afraid?
Yes, Val, afraid. She'll weep all over the place and then I'll weaken.
But you should weaken, remember? Let her weep ... then say you've changed your mind. Like I told you.
I forgot, she said.
We rested our weary limbs a while. A pigeon swooped down and settled on her shoulder.
Can't you buy some peanuts? she said. We could feed the birds and have a bit for ourselves too.
Forget it! I replied. Pretend that you're not hungry. It'll pass. I've hardly ever walked the bridge on a full stomach. You're nervous, that's all.
You remind me of Rimbaud sometimes, she said. He was always famished ... and always walking his legs off.
There's nothing unique in that, I replied. He and how many million others?
I bent over to fix my shoe laces and there, right under the bench, were two whole peanuts. I grabbed them.
