Page 239 - tender-is-the-night

I have a few friends too—Mary, for instance. When Mary
and I talk neither of us listens to the other. Talk is men.
When I talk I say to myself that I am probably Dick. Already
I have even been my son, remembering how wise and slow
he is. Sometimes I am Doctor Dohmler and one time I may
even be an aspect of you, Tommy Barban. Tommy is in love
with me, I think, but gently, reassuringly. Enough, though,
so that he and Dick have begun to disapprove of each other.
All in all, everything has never gone better. I am among
friends who like me. I am here on this tranquil beach with
my husband and two children. Everything is all right—if
I can finish translating this damn recipe for chicken a la
Maryland into French. My toes feel warm in the sand.
‘Yes, I’ll look. More new people—oh, that girl—yes. Who
did you say she looked like... . No, I haven’t, we don’t get
much chance to see the new American pictures over here.
Rosemary who? Well, we’re getting very fashionable for Ju-
ly—seems very peculiar to me. Yes, she’s lovely, but there
can be too many people.’

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