Happy All the Time Read Free Page B

made up her mind about him, one way or the other, but she kept her decisions to herself. Any fool would think that her complacency at the breakfast table, her inspection of his apartment, the deliberateness with which she opened her arms to him indicated that she had chosen him, but Guido was not any fool. He had had time to survey his cool, unflappable beloved. She withdrew as if withdrawal was as natural as drinking coffee, and she did not make emotional statements. Was this withdrawal or concealment, or had everything been settled to her satisfaction? This stance of hers drove Guido into a lather of confusion, although he knew that everyone feels odd at the beginning of a love affair.
    Guido was not a fan of rashness. He had only shown what he felt, not told. He had always known that once his affections were firmly placed, excess would rapidly follow. Now what he felt was the emotional equivalent of extreme thirst. He wanted to stay up all night and watch Holly, who had gone off to sleep and left him.
    Vincent Cardworthy was the most open-minded, tolerant, intelligent, and cheerful person Guido had ever met. Although in matters of his own heart he was deeply muddled, Vincent was right on the money when it came to the affairs of others. Thus Guido took guidance from a man who constantly fell in—never fell in love—with vague blond girls who either were on the verge of engagement or had just left their husbands, or were recovering from some grand passion or were just about to leave on an extended tour of Europe, or were in fact European and just about to return to their native land. Guido thought these girls were far beneath Vincent, but Vincent did not appear to care, at least after the event. He began these affairs with high spirits and then rapidly became bored, but he never broke them off. He was either far too kind or far too removed to do so. Rather, he let life take over. Since none of these encounters was destined for success, they simply evaporated. Vincent was never unkind or cruel. He made appalling choices and then treated them very well. The sort of girl he liked was raw-boned and healthy. He liked a girl who always looked as if she had just left the tennis court or come in from a nice, long hike. He liked girls from Vermont who had outgrown their horses and now owned hand looms and candle molds. He liked sleepy girls from Philadelphia with big teeth who bred water spaniels and were interested in local Republican politics. He liked rugged girls from the Berkshires who played touch football. Guido called this tendency “the coach’s daughter syndrome” although Vincent had never known the daughter of a coach. He never went looking for these girls. Rather, he fell on them in the course of his life. That they all seemed to be the same girl Guido took to be a dire sign, but Vincent claimed he was cutting his emotional teeth, and that if these girls seemed unsuited to him, it was because he was extremely busy and had no time to find anyone suitable, which he took to be the sort of search one associates with the Holy Grail. He said he did not mind a lightweight. Guido said if any of Vincent’s girls had been more lightweight, they would have floated away like dandelions in late July. But Vincent felt, as did Guido, that one is always foolish until one is correct. Around the time that Guido met Holly, Vincent seemed to be somewhat unhappy about his love life, but that didn’t bother him overly much.
    Vincent simply wasn’t anxious. His idea of the life of the mind was exterior. It had to do with planning, statistics, computers, and studies. Guido, on the other hand, was a slave of the interior. He found Vincent’s take on things refreshing.
    One evening, when Holly went off to a concert with her grandmother, Vincent spent the evening listening to Guido.
    â€œI want to marry Holly,” Guido said.
    â€œLast week you said she was hard to get through to,” said