Yes. She's a school teacher.
A school teacher? That beats everything. You running after a school teacher! Now I see her better—kind of big, awkward creature, very plain but not homely, hardly ever smiles, wears her hair...
You're close, Hen, but you're off too. Yes, she is sort of big and large, but in a good way. About her looks I can't say. I only see her eyes—they're china blue and they twinkle...
Like stars.
Violets, he said. Just like violets. The rest of the face doesn't count. To be honest with you, I think she has a receding chin.
How about the legs?
Not too good. A bit on the plump side. But they're not piano legs!
And her ass, does it wobble, when she walks?
He jumped to his feet. Hen, he said, putting an arm around me, it's her ass that gets me. If I could just rub my hand over it—once—I'd die happy.
She's prudish, in other words?
Untouchable.
Have you kissed her yet?
Are you crazy? Kiss her? She'd die first.
Listen, I said, don't you think that perhaps the reason you're so crazy about her is simply because she won't have anything to do with you? You've had better girls than her, from what I gather about her looks. Forget her, that's the best thing. It won't break your heart. You haven't got a heart. You're a born Don Juan.
Not any more, Hen. I can't look at another girl. I'm hooked.
How did you think I could help you then?
I don't know. I was wondering if ... if maybe you would try to see her for me, talk to her, tell her how serious I am ... Something like that.
But how would I ever get to her—as an emissary of yours? She'd throw me out quick as look at me, wouldn't she?
That's true. But maybe we could find a way to have you meet without her knowing that you're my friend. Work your way into her good graces and then...
Then spring it on her, eh?
What's wrong with that? It's possible, isn't it?
Everything's possible. Only...
Only what?
Well, did you ever think that maybe I'd fall for her myself? (I had no such fear of course, I merely wanted his reaction.)
It made him chuckle, this absurd notion. She's not your type, Hen, don't worry. You're looking for the exotic. She's Scotch-Irish, I told you. You haven't a thing in common. But you can talk, damn it! When you want to, that is. You could have made a good lawyer, I've told you that before. Try to picture yourself pleading a cause ... my cause. You could come down from your pedestal and do a little thing like that for an old friend, couldn't you?
It might take a little money, I said.
Money? For what?
Spend money. Flowers, taxis, theatre, cabarets...
Come off it! he said. Flowers maybe. But don't think of it in terms of a long-winded campaign. Just get acquainted and start talking. I don't have to tell you how to go about it. Melt her, that's the thing. Weep, if you have to. Christ, if I could only get into her home, see her alone, I'd prostrate myself at her feet, lick her toes, let her step on me. I'm serious, Hen. I wouldn't have looked you up if I wasn't desperate.
All right, I said, I'll think it over. Give me a little time.
You're not putting me off? You promise?
I promise nothing, I said. It needs thinking about. I'll do my best, that's all I can say.
Shake on it! he said, and put out his hand.
You don't know how good it makes me feel to hear you say that, Hen. I had thought of asking George, but you know George. He'd treat it as a joke. It's anything but a joke, you know that, don't you? Hell, I remember when you were talking of blowing your brains out—over your what's her name...
Mona, I said.
Yeah, Mona. You just had to have her, didn't you? You're happy now, I hope. Hen, I don't even ask that—to be happy with her. All I want is to look at her, idolize her, worship her. Sounds juvenile, doesn't it? But I mean it. I'm licked. If I don't get her I'll go nuts.
I poured him another drink.
I used to laugh at you, remember? Always falling in love. Remember how that widow of yours hated me? She had good reason to. By the way, what ever became of her?
I shook my head.
