|
Mermaid
by James Austin Kerr Dream Cast: Glenn Ford, Lee Remick |
"Why are you still up, Lew?" It was Rhonda.
He shuffled the receipts under the small desk lamp.
"Compiling my expenses from the trip to the Coast."
She un-shuffled them, lifted them.
"No, you aren't," she stated. "You're drawing pictures
of mermaids. Has that fantasy started to recur after
all these years?"
He became uneasy. "It was just something that came to
me on the plane on the way to LA. A dream. And it sort
of stayed with me for some reason, through the meeting with
O'Hara, at the hotel, at the airport and the flight back."
"In the form of a pert young stewardess?" she wanted to know.
"No, I was thinking about you sunbathing on that large rock
in Malibu when I first met you. You in that metallic one-
piece bathing suit with sequin scales."
"Was this fantasy-- this dream 'R' rated? Because I still have
that suit-- I saved it since it never saw surf. It probably doesn't
fit as well now. Too small."
He smiled that impish grin from years ago.
"That's a delightful prospect," he said, rubbing his strong jaw.
"Would you like me to model it for you--"
Like a stealthy intruder, the phone in the kitchen alcove rang.
She went to get it.
Lew's head dropped. He clutched the receipts in his fist, cursed.
In five minutes, Rhonda was back.
"That was our Paul," she announced. "He asked her to marry him."
"And?"
"She told him she needed more time-- a girl of her own mind, bless her,"
she laughed her throaty laugh.
"That's our son's social equilibrium you're making sport of," he objected.
But she was gone.
He wadded his sketch into a ball, tossed it, gathered the receipts again.
The spell had been broken.
Its magic had been usurped by another generation, a new one, their Paul's.
He put his head down on the writing desk, dozed, to wake with a start.
Rhonda was in the archway.
A vision in shiny metallics and shimmery sea-quins.
But the third thing he noticed about the mermaid was that she had grown
exquisite size six-and-a-half B silver ballet slippers.
He shuffled the receipts under the small desk lamp.
"Compiling my expenses from the trip to the Coast."
She un-shuffled them, lifted them.
"No, you aren't," she stated. "You're drawing pictures
of mermaids. Has that fantasy started to recur after
all these years?"
He became uneasy. "It was just something that came to
me on the plane on the way to LA. A dream. And it sort
of stayed with me for some reason, through the meeting with
O'Hara, at the hotel, at the airport and the flight back."
"In the form of a pert young stewardess?" she wanted to know.
"No, I was thinking about you sunbathing on that large rock
in Malibu when I first met you. You in that metallic one-
piece bathing suit with sequin scales."
"Was this fantasy-- this dream 'R' rated? Because I still have
that suit-- I saved it since it never saw surf. It probably doesn't
fit as well now. Too small."
He smiled that impish grin from years ago.
"That's a delightful prospect," he said, rubbing his strong jaw.
"Would you like me to model it for you--"
Like a stealthy intruder, the phone in the kitchen alcove rang.
She went to get it.
Lew's head dropped. He clutched the receipts in his fist, cursed.
In five minutes, Rhonda was back.
"That was our Paul," she announced. "He asked her to marry him."
"And?"
"She told him she needed more time-- a girl of her own mind, bless her,"
she laughed her throaty laugh.
"That's our son's social equilibrium you're making sport of," he objected.
But she was gone.
He wadded his sketch into a ball, tossed it, gathered the receipts again.
The spell had been broken.
Its magic had been usurped by another generation, a new one, their Paul's.
He put his head down on the writing desk, dozed, to wake with a start.
Rhonda was in the archway.
A vision in shiny metallics and shimmery sea-quins.
But the third thing he noticed about the mermaid was that she had grown
exquisite size six-and-a-half B silver ballet slippers.