Read The Misfortunes of Others for Free Online Page A

that herself the other day.”
    “You went in body, not in soul.” Weezy chuckled softly to herself. “I mean that with all possible double entendres. I’m sure the women on campus will attest to it.”
    “Mind like a sewer. That’s why you’ve always been my favorite among Maya’s friends.”
    “We’re two old reprobates, you and me.”
    “It’s too bad you don’t go for younger men.”
    “Younger men, perhaps,” Weezy said, twirling a strand of red hair thoughtfully around her finger. “Children, no. Boys I’ve known since they were in diapers, no.”
    “A shame.”
    “You have to draw the line somewhere,” she said, with what seemed like real regret. She accepted a cup of coffee gratefully and inhaled its aroma with a snort of delight. “Delicious. Nothing like real coffee. I assume this isn’t the wimpy decaf variety?”
    “No. Bernard drinks real coffee.”
    “Bernard is a real man.” She drank deeply from the cup. “How Maya managed to unearth him when Bernard never meets or talks to anybody, I’ll never understand. So how have you been, Arthur?”
    “I insist—I must insist that you not use my real name, Louise. So few people know it, and I don’t want the news to get around. I’ve been fine. I flew in from the islands when I heard about Maya’s pregnancy.”
    “Don’t be coy with me, Arthur. Don’t try to impress me. I knew you when your only language was “dah dah” and you spat up three times a day.”
    “Still do.”
    “I’m sure. What’s this feeble attempt to impress me with a reference to the islands? Which island? Or were you simultaneously on all of them?”
    “I was on St. Martin. We also took a trip to a volcanic island called Saba.”
    “Which side were you on?”
    “Which side of what?”
    “Of St. Martin, you moron. The French or the Dutch?”
    “Oh. The French side. I was staying with some friends there.”
    “I was on St. Martin years and years ago,” Weezy said dreamily. “Lovely place. The St. Tropez Hotel. That little fresh-air market in Marigot. Conch stew under the stars.”
    “I was telling Maya about conch stew.”
    “I ate it every night. I couldn’t get enough of it. Of course, I was young then.” Weezy sighed and crunched into her shortbread wafer. “I’m sure now it would constipate me.”
    “You’re hardly old.” Both Maya and Weezy were in their early thirties.
    “Old enough,” Weezy said gloomily. “Old enough. Old enough to have avoided all the good relationships, and to have to eventually settle for something lousy or for nothing at all.”
    “Is that how it is?”
    Weezy breathed heavily into her coffee cup. The steam rose luxuriantly around her face, dewing her forehead and frizzing her hair even more. “There’s nobody, Snooky. There are no decent men.”
    “I’m a decent man.”
    “God, you’re self-centered. What is this? Are we discussing you or me?”
    “One day, Weezy, you’re going to come to your senses. You’ll turn around, and there I’ll be, waiting for you.”
    “What a horrific thought,” she said. “Promise?”
    “I promise.”
    “No, you won’t. You’ll be married, just like they all are when they reach my age. You’ll marry some little chickie.”
    “I hesitate to correct you, Weezy, but I’m never going to reach your age. I’m always going to be younger than you.”
    “Don’t try to cheer me up. You’ll marry some little chickadoo and go off to live somewhere exotic, like northern New Jersey.”
    “Why northern New Jersey?”
    “Her family will come from there.”
    “A grim prospect,” said Snooky. “Let me just clear up one point. Am I fated to marry a little chickie or a little chickadoo?”
    Weezy exhaled into her coffee. “They all do. They all go off and marry some younger woman. You give them the best years of your life, and then they leave you and end up with somebody else.”
    “Who is this guy?”
    “Oh, nobody.” Weezy pushed her cup away. “Nobody. A man. One of