Village Squire, 1973-05, Page 6The meeting with the publisher Friday afternoon went even
better than I had dreamed. He wanted me to have the first
ten chapters finished within a month, and he gave me an advan-
ce. I was so elated that I took a room in the same ritzy hotel
where the reunion was being held that night.
The party was going beautifully. I started celebrating early
and by ten was well on my way to the subliminal reaches. I
spotted the farmer big man of my class, a combination bonviv-
ant and Einstien, who'd singlehandedly destroyed my whole
vision of top students as thick -goggled, pimply hermits. He
had everything: high marks, good looks, expensive clothes, a
rich father, charm and the only girl in college I ever really
fell for.
But that night good old Walter looked different. I could hard-
ly believe it. His hair was a little ruffled. His pants showed
signs of little creases. His tie didn't have that crisp knot it
used to. And his shirt, his shirt even looked a smidgen soiled.
I decided it could mean only one of two things: Walter's wife
was a flop as a housekeeper (but that couldn't be because Wal-
ter could afford to hire a maid anyway) or he was actually
having to WORK like the rest of us with his own two hands.
As much pity as I felt for my old DEAR friend I couldn't
resist the chance to egg him a little with my own recent
success.
"Walter dear boy. How are you?"
"Roberts old man." There are two things I thoroughly detest,
one is being called "old man" and the other is being called by
my last name. "Here, have a drink ."
I took it, somewhat guiltily at taking free drinks from a man
in as obviously poor financial condition as this.
"I'm having a little celebration tonight" he continued.
"Maybe you've heard. I was just appointed editor of the Globe
today. I just came from the office as a matter of fact and didn't
even have a chance to change."
My mouth was open and it wasn't to swallow the drink. I
choked out my congratulations and quickly looked for a crack
to crawl into. I broke off the converstaion as quickly as
possible and turned to leave, my face one shade greener than the
olive in my martini. I turned and walked straight into trouble,
or more precisely Max.
"Tony old man." Oh my God, I thought. Not another one.
"He -hello Max." My voice was a trifle shaky.
"And what are you doing these days?"
I told him that I was writing and living in the country and
about my wife. Then he told me about his wonderful job, and
his wife and his kids and about the wonderful new computer he
was designing. When he started explaining how the resistors
were aided by tranistors I knew something had to be done.
"Well, look Max, I've simply got to run. It's been great
seeing you again." And THEN I said it. Maybe it was the drink,
maybe it was the shock with Walter, maybe it was just my darn
,old desire to be polite. "Say if you are ever up our way drop in
cr bring the wife and kids up some weekend."
"Sure thing. I might just do that. See you."
I don't remember feeling frightened at his answer. After all
it was just one of those everyday things you say to old friends
just as my invitation was. No one ever took you up. Besides,
if they did what was one weekend? I MUST have forgotten a
lot about Max.
The rest of the party went 0oaringly. My happiness at escap-
g Max so easily went along with my elation from the afternoon
d a magic liquid ingredient to make the whole world look
`'rosy, and a little unsteady.
I The next mcrning my stomach had a feeling like the bird of
paradise was doing the watusi on the left side of my liver but
jnny dear wife managed to patch me up and we went shopping and
then to a show that night. Sunday night as we headed back to
pur quiet abode I had nothing but pleasant memories of the weekâ˘
end.
Back home things didn't go so well. The publisher wanted ten
haptens in a month. I had five done. Those, I had done In
only two weeks. But now that I was under pressure things didn't
flow so smoothly. After two days of coming in to find the study
floor littered with crumpled paper Marion bought a bigger waste
4asket. By eleven o'clock on the third day it was overflowing
too,
The more I hurried the less I was able to do to my own sati-
sfaction. The Friday evening of the last weekend of the month
I was sweating over the beginning of the ninth chapter. Mean -
6
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