Listening to Billie
“Eliza, whose fortieth birthday it would be the following day, and Harry (this trip was his present) lay untouching and far apart on their new, very hard, and preposterously wide bed—in August, in Ixtapanejo. Too hot even to make love; instead they talked through most of the night, murmuring against the heavy tropical stillness.
“We really should have gone to Italy,” whispered Harry a little hoarsely. “Ravello in August, it would be perfect. Look, why don’t we go back to Mexico City tomorrow? We could get on a plane to Rome, and then—”
Eliza laughed softly, exhaustedly. “Harry, darling, I’m at the end of my stamina for flying. I could not fly to Rome tomorrow, or the next day. Take me to Ravello when I’m fifty, okay?”
“Sure, 1980. Who’ll be alive by then? And someone will have bought Ravello, some terrible oil person—” In part, he was referring to the fact that their hotel (they were in the same one that they had come to before, the time they met) had been bought by a Texas oil billion...aire, who had horrifyingly renovated it: doubled and crowded the number of units, brought in these uncomfortable “modern”MoreLess
“We really should have gone to Italy,” whispered Harry a little hoarsely. “Ravello in August, it would be perfect. Look, why don’t we go back to Mexico City tomorrow? We could get on a plane to Rome, and then—”
Eliza laughed softly, exhaustedly. “Harry, darling, I’m at the end of my stamina for flying. I could not fly to Rome tomorrow, or the next day. Take me to Ravello when I’m fifty, okay?”
“Sure, 1980. Who’ll be alive by then? And someone will have bought Ravello, some terrible oil person—” In part, he was referring to the fact that their hotel (they were in the same one that they had come to before, the time they met) had been bought by a Texas oil billion...aire, who had horrifyingly renovated it: doubled and crowded the number of units, brought in these uncomfortable “modern”MoreLess
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