Found in the Street by Patricia Highsmith Read Free Book Online

Philadelphia equivalent of the old Lower East Side. Wannfeld wasn’t quite his name, but the result of a slight change from some other name, Jack seemed to remember that Louis was half-Jewish. Louis didn’t even read a lot of books, not the kind Natalia read anyway. Yet he was persona quite grata at Lily’s, Natalia’s mother’s, house, even if he turned up with his boyfriend Bob Campbell. Was that because Louis had never presented a marital danger when Natalia had been twenty or so? Or because Lily—No, Lily didn’t have to put on the tolerance or the broad-minded act. She wasn’t that snobbish. Louis was quiet, almost self-effacing, and his manner was graceful, Jack had to admit, gentlemanly. The most formal company didn’t daunt Louis, and he never lost his cool.
    Jack drained his cup and pushed it back, annoyed with himself for going over the same old ground. What harm was Louis doing to him? None, except that he took an unconscionable amount of Natalia’s time. But wasn’t that all to the good? It left Jack with more time to work, and maybe it kept Natalia from being bored with him. He had been here before, too.
    He paid, and left. Time to head back, time to keep an eye out for something interesting to bring home for dinner, maybe something Chinese, if he could find a take-away place. Amelia was always happy with pizza, but her parents could get tired of it. Jack ran into the unexpected, a Greek take-away, bought some oily boxes and bags, and walked on westward, feeling more cheerful. There was his work ahead, and the pleasant possibility of a contract for Joel and himself for Half-Understood Dreams, if his drawings could clinch it. A couple of publishers were interested, but wanted to see the illustrations to go with it. When Jack looked back on his total output, he felt he could have done better if he’d tried harder, as the prep school notes put it sometimes. His father, after the Yugoslav episode, had never set up the trust he had promised on Jack’s finishing university, and Jack had not brought the subject up. The modest income from the trust would have given him enough to live on in New York and to study a few hours a week at the Art Students League, as well as to try his hand at journalism and drawing. Uncle Roger, by contrast, had gambled on him and staked him in New York with a few solid thousands, which Uncle Roger said was a gift. His father didn’t approve of Jack’s chosen profession or professions, but had approved of Jack’s marriage. Predictable. In the last couple of years, Jack had spent more time on his art work than on journalism, which had been the occasional travel piece or kitchen gadget stuff or interior decorating reportage. Drawing was more fun, and more satisfying. Jack remembered with a warm pang of gratitude, that Uncle Roger had put up the money too for classes at the Art Students League, when Amelia had been a baby.
    When Natalia opened the door to his knock, Jack felt suddenly happy and very lucky. The apartment looked lovely. What had Natalia done to it in his absence? The white table was set. Amelia was sprawled on the floor in front of the TV, which was on not too loudly. In the kitchen Natalia raved over his purchases as if he were a hunter returned with something rare and difficult to bag.
    â€œYour cheeks’re all pink,” she remarked as she sampled a black olive.
    He put his arms around her, held her tight with his eyes shut, and breathed in her fragrance. Louis would never hold her like this, nor would he want to. Why did he doubt, Jack wondered, doubt Natalia, sometimes the wonder of his own daughter, the reality of everything? Maybe it was normal to doubt, even healthy, even wise? When would he ever come to any conclusion about that?
    Natalia was saying that she’d get the supper on the table, and of course there was time for him to take a shower. And tonight they’d fall asleep in the same bed, Jack