Trust by Cynthia Ozick Read Free Book Online

attachment belonging to my mother's portable phonograph. The turntable, set at a low-Speed, was doggedly going round and round, tended by a pretty girl in blue shoes.
    "When the icebox needs defrosting," I said evenly, "the maid does it."
    The girl tossed out an unperturbed smile. "Hey, I found these cute records—they're French lessons. You want to hear? I'm already up to Lesson Four."
    "Where did you get the phonograph?" I asked.
    "It was sitting right in the broom closet So were the records."
    "That's right," I concurred. "Now tell me what you were doing in the broom closet"
    "Looking for a broom."
    We stared at one another.
    "My date is out there bringing back something to eat," my informant took up. "Hie food around here, is out of this world."
    "Thank you," I said.
    "How d'you like that?" toy friend stated in surprise. "Is this your party?"
    I observed that I supposed it was.
    "Well then, you see, about the broom. It's what started the fight out there. You know those boys who work on Mrs. Vand's magazine?"
    "Pamphlet," I corrected.
    "Oh—well, I've never seen it, that was part of the trouble. One of 'em said it's called
Bushelbasket
—can you believe it?" (I did: the title had been invented by my mother as a piece of paradoxical sophistry—"You see," she had maintained, "they've been hiding their light under a bushel all this time—and now here I am, about to help expose it. Also," she had added worriedly, "it suggests abundance ... do you think
Cornucopia
is better?" But William had favored the former for its humble and homespun sound. "Call it
Cornucopia,
" he admonished, "and those fellows will get the idea that's just what your pocketbook is.")
    "And then," the girl was going dutifully on, "the editor said—Ed McGovern, that's his name—that he'd had the damnedest time with Allegra over the last issue—I guess Allegra is Mrs. Vand."
    "I know."
    "She your stepmother?"
    "No."
    "I heard you had a stepmother."
    "I have a stepfather," I said. "Enoch Vand."
    My friend cocked her head; she was very pretty. "
Enoch
Vand. Haven't I heard of him?"
    "Maybe," I assented, glum with jealousy. "He works for the Administration. He gets to see a lot of Cabinet members, and once in a while his name's in the paper."
    "Oh, I never read about politics, it's such a bother. The news changes all the time, who can keep up with it?" She crossed her little blue shoes with their little blue straps and gave me her quick suspenseful glance. "Has he seen the President?"
    "Enoch? I guess so."
    "No, I mean really
seen
him. Up close!"
    "I guess he's seen him up close," I said, "every so often."
    "Are you lucky!" she marveled eagerly. "You know I always feel so
out
of things on account of my parents are Democrats. And they're so
adamant
about it!—I heard Mrs. Vand used to be a pinko," she said suddenly.
    I blinked. "What?"
    "A radical. All that out-of-date political stuff. Ed McGovern says she's
still
trying to be radical, only she's so old hat it beats him. Like with the capital letters.—You know the story, don't you?"
    I hesitantly confessed I did not.
    "Well, Allegra took it into her head that she didn't want capitals in
Bushelbasket
any more, and Ed said he'd be damned if he'd print any poem of
his
in lower case, like some old fogey. I couldn't see why not, until he told me he was afraid of being taken for a relic, like that antique, Eeyee Cummings." My informant carefully lifted a phonograph record out of its folder and brushed it with a chamois-cloth. "Eeyee Cummings is some kind of old-fashioned author who got famous long ago on account of never using capital letters," she explained politely.
    "How long have you known Ed McGovern?" I inquired.
    "Oh, I just met him maybe half an hour ago, out there. That's what started things off. I'm telling you," she chided.
    "All right," I said, and got out of the way of the barman, who had come for more ice cubes.
    The trays were full of water.
    "I put them in to freeze over twenty minutes ago,"