Девять рассказов
A Perfect Day for Bananafish
Iwassittingthereplaying.Andyouwerenowhereinsight.AndSharonLipschutzcameoverandsatdownnexttome.Icouldn’tpushheroff,couldI?"
"Yes."
"Oh,no.No.Icouldn’tdothat,"saidtheyoungman."I’lltellyouwhatIdiddo,though."
"What?"
"Ipretendedshewasyou:"
Sybilimmediatelystoopedandbegantodiginthesand."Let’sgointhewater,"shesaid.
"Allright,"saidtheyoungman."IthinkIcanworkitin."
"Nexttime,pushheroff,"Sybilsaid.
"Pushwhooff?"
"SharonLipschutz."
"Ah,SharonLipschutz,"saidtheyoungman."Howthatnamecomesup.Mixingmemoryanddesire."Hesuddenlygottohisfeet.Helookedattheocean."Sybil,"hesaid,"I’lltellyouwhatwe’lldo.We’llseeifwecancatchabananafish."
"Awhat?"
"Abananafish,"hesaid,andundidthebeltofhisrobe.Hetookofftherobe.Hisshoulderswerewhiteandnarrow,andhistrunkswereroyalblue.Hefoldedtherobe,firstlengthwise,theninthirds.Heunrolledthetowelhehadusedoverhiseyes,spreaditoutonthesand,andthenlaidthefoldedrobeontopofit.Hebentover,pickedupthefloat,adsecureditunderhisrightarm.Then,withhislefthand,hetookSybil’shand.
Thetwostartedtowalkdowntotheocean."Iimagineyou’veseenquiteafewbananafishinyourday,"theyoungmansaid.
Sybilshookherhead.
"Youhaven’t?Wheredoyoulive,anyway?"
"Idon’tknow,"saidSybil.
"Sureyouknow.Youmustknow.SharonLipschutzknowswhereshelivesandshe’sonlythreeandahalf."
