Chapter 84

           IhadbeencorrespondingwithaladyinSanFranciscoforseveralmonths.HernamewasLizaWestonandshesurvivedbygivingdancelessons,includingballet,inherownstudio.Shewas32,hadbeenmarriedonce,andallherletterswerelongandtypedflawlesslyonpinkishpaper.Shewrotewell,withintelligenceandwithverylittleexaggeration.Ienjoyedherlettersandansweredthem.Lizastayedawayfromliterature,shestayedawayfromtheso-calledlargerquestions.Shewrotemeaboutsmallordinaryhappeningsbutdescribedthemwithinsightandhumor.AndsoitcameaboutthatshewrotetosaythatshewascomingtoLosAngelestobuysomedancingcostumesandwouldIliketoseeher?Itoldhermostcertainly,andthatshecouldstayatmyplace,butduetothedifferenceinouragesshewouldhavetosleeponthecouchwhileIsleptinthebed.I’llphoneyouwhenIgetin,shewroteback.

           Threeorfourdayslaterthephonerang.ItwasLiza."I’mintown,"shesaid.

           "Areyouattheairport?I’llpickyouup."

           "I’lltakeacabin."

           "Itcosts."

           "It’llbeeasierthisway."

           "Whatdoyoudrink?"

           "Idon’tmuch.Sowhateveryouwant..."

           Isatandwaitedforher.Ialwaysbecameuneasyinthesesituations.WhentheyactuallyarrivedIalmostdidn’twantthemtohappen.LizahadmentionedthatshewasprettybutIhadn’tseenanyphotographs.Ihadoncemarriedawoman,promisedtomarryhersightunseen,throughthemails.Shetoohadwrittenintelligentletters,butmy2-and-one-halfyearsofmarriageprovedtobeadisaster.

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