THE NEXT NIGHT, at Whitey’s, Lorna told May about her soap carvings, and then she went on to tell her all the rest, the whole story of her work in coarse goods. They were facing each other, sitting in a wooden booth, one of several along the wall opposite the bar. They became more and more animated as Lorna’s story progressed and May consumed Manhattans. At last Lorna said, “I’ll bet you think I’m making this up.” She leaned across the table and looked hard at May. “Don’t you?” she asked.
May wasn’t sure what she thought. “Well,” she said, pausing with her glass raised, “I’m not sure what I think. You might be making it up. It’s a delicious idea, but it isn’t something I’d expect you to do. You are — you have always seemed — to me — a little — well — prim.” She giggled. Lorna smiled at her but didn’t speak. May couldn’t decide whether Lorna was pulling her leg or not. “Oh, I don’t know. It’s a wonderful thought,” she said. “I know you have the talent — ” She mimicked Lorna’s tight-lipped smile. She sat in silence for a while, but still Lorna spoke only with her twinkling eyes. May shrugged. “Oh, I guess I believe you,” she said.
Lorna reached into her bag and brought from it a silver watchcase. She held it in front of May, cupped in her hands so that the people near them wouldn’t see it. She pressed the stem. The lid popped open. May’s eyes lit up.
“Ohhhhh,” said May. She set her glass down. She leaned closer to get a better look at the little ivory couple inside the case. Slowly, Lorna turned the stem.
“Oh, my God!” said May. The laugh she laughed was astonished, shocked, thrilled. “That’s — ” She leaned across the table and said in a whisper, “ — obscene.” She laughed again. “And wonderful,” she added. “May I?” Lorna handed her the watchcase, and May examined the ivory couple closely while she turned the stem.
“I don’t want to brag,” said Lorna, “but I hope you’ll notice the workmanship.”
“Oh, I am,” said May. “I certainly am noticing the workmanship.” More laughter.
“My goodness,” said May, “where do you get your ideas? I mean — well, this seems quite — ah — advanced. Do you and Herb — do you — ah — do this sort of thing?”
“Now and then,” said Lorna. A thought struck her, and she voiced it without considering whether she ought to. “Not for a while, though.”
“You don’t mean that you have — ah — other models?”
“Oh, no. I just meant that we — don’t — ”
“Yes,” said May. She sighed. “Well, none of us drinks champagne as often as we’d like, either.”
“Anyway,” said Lorna, “most of the ideas aren’t mine. Most of the — um — movements, the routines — ”
“Oh, hardly routine!”
“Well, I get models — ”
May raised her eyebrows.
“Not that kind. Little stick figures, made of wire, with all the gears and all of that, the works. I get them from my Uncle Luther — ”
“My goodness! That man’s an inspiration for us all. How old is the randy geezer?”
“He doesn’t make them up. I don’t know who does, to tell you the truth.”
“Well! If it’s a man, it’s a man I’d like to meet,” said May. They fell into such loud and raucous laughter that May had to hide the watchcase beneath the table, since they had attracted the attention of everyone around them.
[to be continued on Friday, October 14, 2022]
In Topical Guide 360, Mark Dorset considers In Topical Guide 000, Mark Dorset considers Ideas: Their Origin (Where do you get your . . .”) from this episode.
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