《THE CATCHER IN THE RYE(麦田里的守望者英文版)》第33章

　　They killed me.

　　I certainly began to feel like a prize horse's ass, though, sitting there all by myself.

　　There wasn't anything to do except smoke and drink. What I did do, though, I told the

　　waiter to ask old Ernie if he'd care to join me for a drink. I told him to tell him I was

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　　D.B.'s brother. I don't think he ever even gave him my message, though. Those bastards

　　never give your message to anybody.

　　All of a sudden, this girl came up to me and said, "Holden Caulfield!" Her name

　　was Lillian Simmons. My brother D.B. used to go around with her for a while. She had

　　very big knockers.

　　"Hi," I said. I tried to get up, naturally, but it was some job getting up, in a place

　　like that. She had some Navy officer with her that looked like he had a poker up his ass.

　　"How marvelous to see you!" old Lillian Simmons said. Strictly a phony. "How's

　　your big brother?" That's all she really wanted to know.

　　"He's fine. He's in Hollywood."

　　"In Hollywood! How marvelous! What's he doing?"

　　"I don't know. Writing," I said. I didn't feel like discussing it. You could tell she

　　thought it was a big deal, his being in Hollywood. Almost everybody does. Mostly people

　　who've never read any of his stories. It drives me crazy, though.

　　"How exciting," old Lillian said. Then she introduced me to the Navy guy. His

　　name was Commander Blop or something. He was one of those guys that think they're

　　being a pansy if they don't break around forty of your fingers when they shake hands with

　　you. God, I hate that stuff. "Are you all alone, baby?" old Lillian asked me. She was

　　blocking up the whole goddam traffic in the aisle. You could tell she liked to block up a

　　lot of traffic. This waiter was waiting for her to move out of the way, but she didn't even

　　notice him. It was funny. You could tell the waiter didn't like her much, you could tell

　　even the Navy guy didn't like her much, even though he was dating her. And I didn't like

　　her much. Nobody did. You had to feel sort of sorry for her, in a way. "Don't you have a

　　date, baby?" she asked me. I was standing up now, and she didn't even tell me to sit

　　down. She was the type that keeps you standing up for hours. "Isn't he handsome?" she

　　said to the Navy guy. "Holden, you're getting handsomer by the minute." The Navy guy

　　told her to come on. He told her they were blocking up the whole aisle. "Holden, come

　　join us," old Lillian said. "Bring your drink."

　　"I was just leaving," I told her. "I have to meet somebody." You could tell she was

　　just trying to get in good with me. So that I'd tell old D.B. about it.

　　"Well, you little so-and-so. All right for you. Tell your big brother I hate him,

　　when you see him."

　　Then she left. The Navy guy and I told each other we were glad to've met each

　　other. Which always kills me. I'm always saying "Glad to've met you" to somebody I'm

　　not at all glad I met. If you want to stay alive, you have to say that stuff, though.

　　After I'd told her I had to meet somebody, I didn't have any goddam choice except

　　to leave. I couldn't even stick around to hear old Ernie play something halfway decent.

　　But I certainly wasn't going to sit down at a table with old Lillian Simmons and that Navy

　　guy and be bored to death. So I left. It made me mad, though, when I was getting my

　　coat. People are always ruining things for you.

　　13

　　I walked all the way back to the hotel. Forty-one gorgeous blocks. I didn't do it

　　because I felt like walking or anything. It was more because I didn't feel like getting in

　　and out of another taxicab. Sometimes you get tired of riding in taxicabs the same way

　　you get tired riding in elevators. All of a sudden, you have to walk, no matter how far or

　　how high up. When I was a kid, I used to walk all the way up to our apartment very

　　frequently. Twelve stories.

　　You wouldn't even have known it had snowed at all. There was hardly any snow

　　on the sidewalks. But it was freezing cold, and I took my red hunting hat out of my

　　pocket and put it on--I didn't give a damn how I looked. I even put the earlaps down. I

　　wished I knew who'd swiped my gloves at Pencey, because my hands were freezing. Not

　　that I'd have done much about it even if I had known. I'm one of these very yellow guys. I

　　try not to show it, but I am. For instance, if I'd found out at Pencey who'd stolen my

　　gloves, I probably would've gone down to the crook's room and said, "Okay. How 'bout

　　handing over those gloves?"