Friday, 8 August 2008
08 August 2008
horses are going to eat a lot of oats this week with my hundred dollar bill.” Things grew to worse proportions; the rain roared. Diane originally lived in the place first, so she told Henri to pack up and get out. He started packing. I pictured myself all alone in this rainy shack with that shrew. I tried to intervene. Henri pushed Diane. She made a jump for the gun. Henri gave me the gun and told me to hide it; there was a clip of eight shells in it. Diane began screaming, and finally she put on her raincoat and went out in the mud to get a cop, and what a cop!---if it wasn’t our old friend San Quentin. Luckily he wasn’t home. She came back all wet. I hid in my corner with my head between my knees. Gad what was I doing three thousand miles from home? Why had I come here? Where was my slowboat to China? “And yet another thing you dirty cuntlapper” yelled Diane “tonight was the last time I’ll ever make your filthy brains and eggs, and your filthy lamb curry, so you can fill your filthy belly and get fat and sassy right before my eyes.” “It’s allright,” Henri said quietly, “it’s perfectly all right. When I took up with you I didn’t expect roses and moonshine and I’m not surprised this night and this day. I tried to do a few things for you---I tried my best for both of you---you’ve both let me down. I’m terribly, terribly disappointed in both of you” he continued in absolute sincerity “I thought something would come of us together, something fine and lasting, I tried, I flew to Hollywood, I got Jack a job, I bought you beautiful dresses, I tried to introduce you to the finest people in San Francisco. You refused, you both refused to follow the slightest wish I had. I asked for nothing in return. Now I ask for one last favor and then I’ll never ask a favor again. My father is coming to San Francisco next Saturday night. All I ask is that you come with me and try to look as though everything is the way I’ve written him…in other words, you, Diane, you are my woman; and you Jack, you are my friend. I’ve arranged to borrow a hundred dollars for Saturday night. I’m going to see that my father has a good time and can go away without any reason in the world to worry about me.” This surprised me. Henri’s father was a distinguished French professor in Columbia University and a member of the Legion of Honor in France.