"Ron Goulart - Ignatz" - читать интересную книгу автора (Goulart Ron)

Ignatz



Ignatz
By Ron Goulart
GLENN WHEELAN stepped back out of the way as the water came hissing up across the quiet night
beach. He rolled his pants cuffs a turn higher and looked back at Karen Wylie. "And the whole thing is
worse. Teachers, you know, look forward to vacations as much as kids. More. But I was almost afraid to
come back here."

Karen's cigarette glowed red in the darkness. "But San Miguel is much brighter and cleaner. They even
have a theater that shows nothing but foreign movies. And three laundromats. Now the place is building
up, Glenn."

"Because of a bunch of nitwits who're tired of all the lunatic outfits in Los Angeles." Wheelan moved to
the girl's side. "Why, even in Pasadena people talk about San Miguel."

Karen caught his hand and led him up to the beach away from the water, "Well, every town is noted for
something. Like one's the lettuce capital and another's the wine center. It certainly doesn't hurt San
Miguel to be known."

Wheelan turned from the glare that the city's lights made against the faintly overcast sky. "Ever since I
was a kid I've hated cats. They make me feel crawly all over. Like persimmons do."

"Persimmons don't do any such thing," Karen said, tossing her cigarette at the foam below.

"So I come back to my old hometown. Unpack my bags and walk into my aunt's homey kitchen, and she
springs it on me."

"What?"

"She's one of them now, too. It's not bad enough a bunch of retired dentists from Omaha go along with
Balderstone. My aunt now! I'll have a hell of a time forcing down second helpings. I get this crawly
feeling."

"You're as touchy as Pavlov's dog. Everything makes you crawly."

"Well, look, Karen. You've been up at Cal most of the year. Doesn't the place seem odder to you?"
Wheelan stepped next to a driftwood log. "Doesn't it bother you?"

Karen sat down on the log and put her elbows on her knees. "I told you, Glenn. San Miguel looks newer

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and cleaner. Why, even the slums look better. I think they've painted them."

"The only time we ever had a cat, when I was eleven, it made me sneeze. My aunt made me give it away.