Mr. Bridge_ A Novel - Evan S. Connell [71]
She assured him it would not happen again. Then she went on with a sanctimonious air, “That Couperin, I could just kill him. As far as I personally am concerned he ought to be locked up in jail the rest of his days. Trouble is his middle name.”
Mr. Bridge was disgusted by her fickleness. Not two hours earlier she had been very much a part of Couperin’s big evening.
“It was account of that automobile,” she said as though reminiscing about a vacation. “Since he got hisself that Pontiac he is just plain uncontrollable. You’d think a person would learn, finally. Not him, though. Well, at least I am glad to say I surely have learned my lesson.”
“I hope you have,” Mr. Bridge said.
They drove through Penn Valley Park and up Broadway and she was all right, but then she started to sniffle.
“Now, you stop,” he said. “I have had more than enough.”
“Feel so ashamed.”
“It has been disagreeable and humiliating for us both.”
She sobbed into her handkerchief. “That Couperin.”
In a voice that was almost a shout Mr. Bridge said: “Shut up!” which was an expression he had not used for many years.
As they were turning into the driveway she wiped her nose, coughed rather delicately, and fluffed her hair with her fingertips. Evidently she was getting organized for an appropriate entrance, in case Mrs. Bridge or the children should be in the kitchen to greet her.
“I wish to thank you again,” she said.
“All right,” he answered, guiding the Chrysler into the garage.
“I frankly do not know what might have become of me in that there police station without assistance.”
“I could tell you.”
“As you know, this was my first police experience. However, they were very nice and gentlemanly, I must say.”
“Let’s hope this is your last experience with the police.”
“I’m perfectly sure it will be,” she said. “Somehow they do leave a person mortified to death.” Then, having once more touched up her hair, she inquired: “Shall we go in?”
74 The Primrose Path
During the holiday season Harriet was observed to put away several daiquiris, and Mrs. Bridge was of the opinion that she was becoming much too fond of them. Mr. Bridge answered that an occasional snort was not going to do her any harm. If she had taken this many years to get around to it she was not apt to become an alcoholic.
But Mrs. Bridge said, “I believe I’ll speak to her. I found two glasses on the drainboard the other day. I think two in one day is one too many.”
He slipped an arm around her waist and suggested they stop worrying. The idea of Harriet drinking too much amused him, and the next time he saw her with a daiquiri he told her that she had better have another because nobody can walk on one leg.
75 Harriet’s System
After being warned by Mrs. Bridge, Harriet resolved to quit drinking. Mrs. Bridge had not spoken severely, nor even pointedly, yet there could be no mistake, it was a warning. Furthermore, it was humiliating. Not more than that, but it certainly was humiliating. She did not think her position was in danger, she had been employed too many years to be dismissed lightly; she was sure they knew this. However, a word to the wise was sufficient.
Some time went by while she considered the best way to stop, and finally she decided that instead of giving up the daiquiris all at once she should give them up gradually in order to avoid a shock to her system. She felt that her system had become accustomed to a daiquiri or so every now and again. A suitable program should be to leave a few sips in the glass, and leave a few more sips each time. That would be easy, and the body fluids would not be disturbed and remorseless. She devised this program one stormy Tuesday night while doing the dishes. Mr. and Mrs. Bridge had gone to a party at the Lutweilers and would not come home until late. Ruth was visiting Dodie. Carolyn was in the basement. Douglas had