SSC (2004) The Complete Stories of Truman Capote Read Free Page B

you enlist then?”
    “Oh, I was going to be drafted and the navy seemed more to my likin’.”
    “Is it?”
    “Well, I tell you, I don’t take to this kind of life, I don’t like other men bossin’ me around. Would you?”
    She didn’t answer but put a cigarette in her mouth instead. He held the match for her and she let her hand brush against his. Hishand was trembling and the light was not very steady. She inhaled and said, “You want to kiss me, don’t you?”
    She watched him intently and saw the slow, red spread over his face.
    “Why don’t you?”
    “You’re not that kind of girl. I’d be scared to kiss a girl like you, ’sides, you’re only making fun out of me.”
    She laughed and blew the smoke in a cloud toward the ceiling. “Stop it, you sound like something out of a gaslight melodrama. What is ‘that kind of girl,’ anyway? Just an idea. Whether you kiss me or not isn’t of the slightest importance. I could explain, but why bother? You’d probably end up thinking I’m a nymphomaniac.”
    “I don’t even know what that is.”
    “Hell, that’s what I mean. You’re a man, a real man and I’m so sick of these weak, effeminate boys like Les. I just wanted to know what it would be like, that’s all.”
    He bent over her. “You’re a funny kid,” he said, and she was in his arms. He kissed her and his hand slid down along her shoulder and pressed against her breast.
    She twisted and gave him a violent shove and he went sprawling across the cold, green rug.
    She got up and stood over him and they stared at each other. “You dirt,” she said. Then she slapped his bewildered face.
    She opened the door, paused, and straightened her dress and went back to the party. He sat on the floor for a moment, then he got up and found his way to the foyer and then remembered that he had left his cap in the white room, but he didn’t care, all he wanted was to get out of here.
    The hostess looked inside the drawing-room and motioned for Mildred to come out.
    “For God’s sake, Mildred, get these people out of here; those sailors, what do they think this is … the USO?”
    “What’s the matter, was that guy bothering you?”
    “No, no, he’s just a small town moron who’s never seen anything like this before and it’s gone to his head in a funny kind of way. It’s just one awful bore and I have a headache. Will you get them out for me please … everybody?”
    She nodded and the hostess turned back down the corridor and went into her mother’s room. She lay down on the velvet chaise lounge and stared at the Picasso abstract. She picked up a tiny lace pillow and pushed it against her face as hard as she could. She was going to sleep here tonight, here where the walls were pale rose and warm.

A M INK OF O NE’S O WN

(1944)
    Mrs. Munson finished twisting a linen rose in her auburn hair and stepped back from her mirror to judge the effect. Then she ran her hands down her hips … the dress was just too tight and that’s all there was to it. “Alteration won’t save it again,” she thought angrily. With one last disparaging glance at her reflection she turned and went into the livingroom.
    The windows were open and the room was filled with loud, unearthly shrieks. Mrs. Munson lived on the third floor, and across the street was a public school playground. In the late afternoon the noise was almost unbearable. God, if she’d only known about this before she signed the lease! With a little grunt she closed both windows and as far as she was concerned they could stay that way for the next two years.
    But Mrs. Munson was far too excited to be really annoyed. Vini Rondo was coming to see her, imagine, Vini Rondo … and this very afternoon! When she thought about it she felt fluttering wings in her stomach. It had been almost five years, and Vini had been in Europe all this time. Whenever Mrs. Munson found herself in a group discussing the war she invariably announced, “Well, you know