As time went on, the relationship between Faye and Homer began to change. She became bored with the life they were leading together and as her boredom1 deepened, she began to persecute2 him. At first she did it unconsciously, later maliciously3.
Homer realized that the end was in sight even before she did. All he could do to prevent its coming was to increase his servility and his generosity4. He waited on her hand and foot. He bought her a coat of summer ermine and a light blue Buick runabout.
His servility was like that of a cringing5, clumsy dog, who is always anticipating a blow, welcoming it even, and in a way that makes overwhelming the desire to strike him. His generosity was still more irritating. It was so helpless and unselfish that it made her feel mean and cruel, no matter how hard she tried to be kind. And it was so bulky that she was unable to ignore it. She had to resent it. He was destroying himself, and although he didn’t mean it that way, forcing her to accept the blame.
They had almost reached a final crisis when Tod saw them again. Late one night, just as he was preparing for bed, Homer knocked on his door and said that Faye was downstairs in the car and that they wanted him to go to a night club with them.
The outfit6 Homer wore was very funny. He had on loose blue linen7 slacks and a chocolate flannel8 jacket over a yellow polo shirt. Only a Negro could have worn it without looking ridiculous, and no one was ever less a Negro than Homer.
Tod drove with them to the “Cinderella Bar,” a little stucco building in the shape of a lady’s slipper9, on Western Avenue. Its floor show consisted of female impersonators.
Faye was in a nasty mood. When the waiter took their order, she insisted on a champagne10 cocktail11 for Homer. He wanted coffee. The waiter brought both, but she made him take the coffee back.
Homer explained painstakingly12, as he must have done many times, that he could not drink alcohol because it made him sick. Faye listened with mock patience. When he finished, she laughed and lifted the cocktail to his mouth.
“Drink it, damn you,” she said.
She tilted13 the glass, but he ‘didn’t open his mouth and the liquor ran down his chin. He wiped himself, using the napkin without unfolding it.
Faye called the waiter again.
“He doesn’t like champagne cocktails,” she said. “Bring him brandy.”
Homer shook his head.
“Please, Faye,” he whimpered.
She held the brandy to his lips, moving the glass when he turned away.
“Come on, sport — bottoms up.”
“Let him alone,” Tod finally said.
She ignored him as though she hadn’t even heard his protest. She was both furious and ashamed of herself. Her shame strengthened her fury and gave it a target.
“Come on, sport,” she said savagely14, “or mama’ll spank15.” She turned to Tod.
“I don’t like people who won’t drink. It isn’t sociable16. They feel superior and I don’t like people who feel superior.”
“I don’t feel superior,” Homer said.
“Oh, yes, you do. I’m drunk and you’re sober and so you feel superior. Goddamned, stinking17 superior.” He opened his mouth to reply and she poured the brandy into it, then clapped her hand over his lips so that he couldn’t spit it back. Some of it came out of his nose.
Still without unfolding the napkin, he wiped himself. Faye ordered another brandy. When it came, she held it to his lips again, but this time he took it and drink it himself, fighting the stuff down.
“That’s the boy,” Faye laughed. “Well done, sloppy-boppy.”
Tod asked her to dance in order to give Homer a moment alone. When they reached the floor, she made an attempt to defend herself.
“That guy’s superiority is driving me crazy.”
“He loves you,” Tod said.
“Yeah, I know, but he’s such a slob.”
She started to cry on his shoulder and he held her very tight. He took a long chance.
“Sleep with me.”
“No, baby,” she said sympathetically.
“Please, please . . . just once.”
“I can’t, honey. I don’t love you.”
“You worked for Mrs. Jenning. Make believe you’re still working for her.”
She didn’t get angry.
“That was a mistake. And anyway, that was different. I only went on call enough times to pay for the funeral and besides those men were complete strangers. You know what I mean?”
“Yes. But please, darling. I’ll never bother you again. I’ll go east right after. Be kind.”
“I can’t.”
“Why . . .?”
“I just can’t. I’m sorry, darling. I’m not a tease, but I can’t like that.”
“I love you.”
“No, sweetheart, I can’t.”
They danced until the number finished without saying anything else. He was grateful to her for having behaved so well, for not having made him feel too ridiculous.
When they returned to the table, Homer was sitting exactly as they had left him. He held the folded napkin in one hand and the empty brandy glass in the other. His helplessness was extremely irritating.
“You’re right about the brandy, Faye,” Homer said. “It’s swell18! Whoopee!”
He made a little circular gesture with the hand that held the glass.
“I’d like a Scotch,” Tod said.
“Me, too,” Faye said.
Homer made another gallant19 attempt to get into the spirit of the evening.
“Garsoon,” he called to the waiter, “more drinks.”
He grinned at them anxiously. Faye burst out laughing and Homer did his best to laugh with her. When she stopped suddenly, he found himself laughing alone and turned his laugh into a cough, then hid the cough in his napkin.
She turned to Tod.
“What the devil can you do with a slob like that?”
The orchestra started and Tod was able to ignore her question. All three of them turned to watch a young man in a tight evening gown of red silk sing a lullaby.
“Little man, you’re crying, I know why you’re blue, Someone took your kiddycar away; Better go to sleep now, Little man, you’ve had a busy day . . . ”
He had a soft, throbbing20 voice and his gestures were matronly, tender and aborted21, a series of unconscious caresses22. What he was doing was in no sense parody23; it was too simple and too restrained. It wasn’t even theatrical24. This dark young man with his thin, hairless arms and soft, rounded shoulders, who rocked an imaginary cradle as he crooned, was really a woman.
When he had finished, there was a great deal of applause. The young man shook himself and became an actor again. He tripped on his train, as though he weren’t used to it, lifted his skirts to show he was wearing Paris garters, then strode off swinging his shoulders. His imitation of a man was awkward and obscene.
Homer and Tod applauded him.
“I hate fairies,” Faye said.
“All women do.”
Tod meant it as a joke, but Faye was angry.
“They’re dirty,” she said.
He started to say something else, but Faye had turned to Homer again. She seemed unable to resist nagging25 him.
This time she pinched his arm until he gave a little squeak26. “Do you know what a fairy is?” she demanded.
“Yes,” he said hesitatingly.
“All right, then,” she barked. “Give out! What’s a fairy?” Homer twisted uneasily, as though he already felt the ruler on his behind, and looked imploring27 at Tod, who tried to help him by forming the word “homo” with his lips.
“Morro,” Homer said.
Faye burst out laughing. But his hurt look made it impossible not to relent, so she patted his shoulder.
“What a hick,” she said.
He grinned gratefully and signaled the waiter to bring another round of drinks.
The orchestra began to play and a man came over to ask Faye to dance. Without saying a word to Homer, she followed him to the floor.
“Who’s that?” Homer asked, chasing them with his eyes.
Tod made believe he knew and said that he had often seen him around the San Berdoo. His explanation satisfied Homer, but at the same time set him to thinking of something else. Tod could almost see him shaping a question in his head.
“Do you know Earle Shoop?” Homer finally asked. “Yes.”
Homer then poured out a long, confused story about a dirty black hen. He kept referring to the hen again and again, as though it were the one thing he couldn’t stand about Earle and the Mexican. For a man who was incapable28 of hatred29, he managed to draw a pretty horrible picture of the bird.
“You never saw such a disgusting thing, the way it squats30 and turns its head. The roosters have torn all the feathers off its neck and made its comb all bloody31 and it has scabby feet covered with warts32 and it cackles so nasty when they drop it into the pen.”
“Who drops it into what pen?’
“The Mexican.”
“Miguel?”
“Yes. He’s almost as bad as his hen.’
“You’ve been to their camp?”
“Camp?”
“In the mountains?”
“No. They’re living in the garage. Faye asked me if I minded if a friend of hers lived in the garage for a while because he was broke. But I didn’t know about the chickens or the Mexican . . . Lots of people are out of work nowadays.”
“Why don’t you throw them out?”
“They’re broke and they have no place to go. It isn’t very comfortable living in a garage.”
“But if they don’t behave?”
“It’s just that hen. I don’t mind the roosters, they’re pretty, but that dirty hen. She shakes her dirty feathers each time and clucks so nasty.”
“You don’t have to look at it.”
“They do it every afternoon at the same time when I’m usually sitting in the chair in the sun after I get back from shopping with Faye and just before dinner The Mexican knows I don’t like to see it so he tries to make me look just for spite. I go into the house, but he taps on the windows and calls me to come out and watch. I don’t call that fun. Some people have funny ideas of what’s fun.”
“What’s Faye say?”
“She doesn’t mind the hen. She says it’s only natural.”
Then, in case Tod should mistake this for criticism, he told him what a fine, wholesome33 child she was. Tod agreed, but brought him back to the subject.
“If I were you,” he said, “I’d report the chickens to the police. You have to have a permit to keep chickens in the city. I’d do something and damned quick.”
Homer avoided a direct answer.
“I wouldn’t touch that thing for all the money in the world. She’s all over scabs and almost naked. She looks like a buzzard. She eats meat. I saw her one time eating some meat that the Mexican got out of the garbage can. He feeds the roosters grain but the hen eats garbage and he keeps her in a dirty box.”
“If I were you, rd throw those bastards34 out and their birds with them.”
“No, they’re nice enough young fellows, just down on their luck, like a lot of people these days, you know. It’s just that hen . . . ”
He shook his head wearily, as though he could smell and taste her.
Faye was coming back. Homer saw that Tod was going to speak to her about Earle and the Mexican and signaled desperately35 for him not to do it. She, however, caught him at it and was curious.
“What have you guys been chinning about?”
“You, darling,” Tod said. “Homer has a t.l. for you.”
“Tell me, Homer.”
“No, first you tell me one.”
“Well, the man I just danced with asked me if you were a movie big shot.”
Tod saw that Homer was unable to think of a return compliment so he spoke36 for him.
“I said you were the most beautiful girl in the place.”
“Yes,” Homer agreed. “That’s what Tod said.”
“I don’t believe it. Tod hates me. And anyway, I caught you telling him to keep quiet. You were shushing him.” She laughed.
“I bet I know what you were talking about.” She mimicked37 Homer’s excited disgust. “‘That dirty black hen, she’s all over scabs and almost naked.’”
Homer laughed apologetically, but Tod was angry. “What’s the idea of keeping those guys in the garage?” he demanded.
“What the hell is it your business?” she replied, but not with real anger. She was amused.
“Homer enjoys their company. Don’t you, sloppyboppy?”
“I told Tod they were nice fellows just down on their luck like a lot of people these days. There’s an awful lot of unemployment going around.”
“That’s right,” she said. “If they go, I go.”
Tod had guessed as much. He realized there was no use in saying anything. Homer was again signaling for him to keep quiet.
For some reason or other, Faye suddenly became ashamed of herself. She apologized to Tod by offering to dance with him again, flirting38 as she suggested it. Tod refused.
She broke the silence that followed by a eulogy39 of Miguel’s game chickens, which was really meant to be an excuse for herself. She described what marvelous fighters the birds were, how much Miguel loved them and what good care he took of them.
Homer agreed enthusiastically. Tod remained silent. She asked him if he had ever seen a cock fight and invited him to the garage for the next night. A man from San Diego was coming north with his birds to pit them against Miguel’s.
When she turned to Homer again, he leaned away as though she were going to hit him. She flushed with shame at this and looked at Tod to see if he had noticed. The rest of the evening, she tried to be nice to Homer. She even touched him a little, straightening his collar and patting his hair smooth. He beamed happily.
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boredom
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| n.厌烦，厌倦，乏味，无聊 | |
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persecute
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| vt.迫害，虐待；纠缠，骚扰 | |
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maliciously
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| adv.有敌意地 | |
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generosity
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| n.大度，慷慨，慷慨的行为 | |
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cringing
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| adj.谄媚，奉承 | |
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outfit
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| n.（为特殊用途的）全套装备，全套服装 | |
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linen
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| n.亚麻布，亚麻线，亚麻制品；adj.亚麻布制的，亚麻的 | |
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flannel
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| n.法兰绒；法兰绒衣服 | |
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slipper
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| n.拖鞋 | |
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champagne
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| n.香槟酒；微黄色 | |
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cocktail
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| n.鸡尾酒；餐前开胃小吃；混合物 | |
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painstakingly
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| adv. 费力地 苦心地 | |
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tilted
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| v. 倾斜的 | |
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savagely
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| adv. 野蛮地，残酷地 | |
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spank
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| v.打，拍打(在屁股上) | |
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sociable
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| adj.好交际的，友好的，合群的 | |
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stinking
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| adj.臭的，烂醉的，讨厌的v.散发出恶臭( stink的现在分词 )；发臭味；名声臭；糟透 | |
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swell
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| vi.膨胀，肿胀；增长，增强 | |
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gallant
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| adj.英勇的，豪侠的；(向女人)献殷勤的 | |
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throbbing
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| a. 跳动的,悸动的 | |
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aborted
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| adj.流产的，失败的v.（使）流产( abort的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）（某事物）中止；（因故障等而）（使）（飞机、宇宙飞船、导弹等）中断飞行；（使）（飞行任务等）中途失败 | |
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caresses
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| 爱抚，抚摸( caress的名词复数 ) | |
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parody
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| n.打油诗文，诙谐的改编诗文，拙劣的模仿；v.拙劣模仿，作模仿诗文 | |
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theatrical
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| adj.剧场的，演戏的；做戏似的，做作的 | |
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nagging
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| adj.唠叨的，挑剔的；使人不得安宁的v.不断地挑剔或批评（某人）( nag的现在分词 )；不断地烦扰或伤害（某人）；无休止地抱怨；不断指责 | |
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squeak
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| n.吱吱声，逃脱；v.（发出）吱吱叫，侥幸通过；（俚）告密 | |
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imploring
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| 恳求的，哀求的 | |
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incapable
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| adj.无能力的，不能做某事的 | |
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hatred
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| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
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squats
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| n.蹲坐，蹲姿( squat的名词复数 )；被擅自占用的建筑物v.像动物一样蹲下( squat的第三人称单数 )；非法擅自占用（土地或房屋）；为获得其所有权；而占用某片公共用地。 | |
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bloody
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| adj.非常的的；流血的；残忍的；adv.很；vt.血染 | |
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warts
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| n.疣( wart的名词复数 )；肉赘；树瘤；缺点 | |
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wholesome
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| adj.适合；卫生的；有益健康的；显示身心健康的 | |
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bastards
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| 私生子( bastard的名词复数 )； 坏蛋； 讨厌的事物； 麻烦事 （认为别人走运或不幸时说）家伙 | |
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desperately
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| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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mimicked
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| v.（尤指为了逗乐而）模仿( mimic的过去式和过去分词 )；酷似 | |
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flirting
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| v.调情，打情骂俏( flirt的现在分词 ) | |
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eulogy
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| n.颂词；颂扬 | |
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