Free Three Bedrooms in Manhattan by Georges Simenon Page B

watching us, including a couple of reporters.
    â€œThen I announced, without thinking about what it meant: ‘I think I’ll be leaving Paris soon.’
    â€œâ€˜Where are you going?’ my wife asked.
    â€œâ€˜I’ve been offered a contract in Hollywood. Now that there’s nothing to keep me here … ’
    â€œWas she being cynical, or thoughtless? No. I don’t think she was ever cynical. She believed me. She knew that I’d had an offer from Hollywood four years earlier and had turned it down, partly because of her, since there was nothing in it for her, and partly because of the children, who were too young to be separated from their father.
    â€œShe said to me, ‘I’m very happy for you, François. I always knew everything would work out.’
    â€œSo. I’d kept them standing in front of my table until that moment. I asked them to sit down, I still ask myself why.
    â€œâ€˜What can I offer you?’
    â€œâ€˜You know very well that I don’t eat supper, François. I’ll have some juice.’
    â€œâ€˜And you?’
    â€œThe fool thought he had to order the same thing, so he didn’t order a drink, which was what he really needed.
    â€œâ€˜Two juices, please.’
    â€œAnd I kept eating, with the two of them sitting there.
    â€œâ€˜Any news from Pierrot?’ my wife asked, pulling her compact out of her bag. Pierrot is my son’s nickname.
    â€œâ€˜I had a letter three days ago. He’s still very happy there.’
    â€œâ€˜That’s good,’ my wife said.
    â€œSo you see, Kay—”
    Why just then did she say: “Couldn’t you call me Katherine?”
    He reached out for her fingers as he paced by, squeezing them.
    â€œYou see, Katherine, all through supper my wife sat there casting little glances at that young fool, as if to say, ‘See how easy it is? There’s no reason to be frightened.’”
    â€œYou still love her, don’t you?”
    He circled the room twice, frowning. He kept staring at the old Jewish tailor across the way, and then he stopped in front of her. He fell silent for an instant, as he did onstage before a particularly dramatic line. Steeling his expression and with the sunlight in his eyes, he said: “No!”
    He wanted no emotion. He himself didn’t feel any. And Kay shouldn’t, either—that was the most important thing. He began talking again immediately, quickly, in a sharp voice.
    â€œI left and I came to the United States. A friend, one of our best directors, once told me, ‘You can always go to Hollywood. A man like you doesn’t have to wait for a contract. Go over there. See So-and-so and So-and-so. Tell them I sent you.’
    â€œI went and I was welcomed with open arms. Everyone was very polite. Do you see? Very polite, but no one offered me a thing.
    â€œâ€˜If we decide to make such-and-such a film and there’s a part for you, we’ll be in touch.’
    â€œOr, ‘Maybe in a few months, when we set the schedule for our next production … ’
    â€œAnd that’s it, Kay. You can see how stupid it all is.”
    â€œI asked you to call me Katherine.”
    â€œForgive me. I’ll get used to it. Some of my best friends are in Hollywood. They were wonderful. Everyone wanted to help. But I was just a deadweight in their busy lives.
    â€œI didn’t want to bother them any more. I preferred to be in New York. Besides, you can sign a contract just as easily here as in California.
    â€œAt first I lived in a grand hotel on Park Avenue. Then in a more modest hotel. Later I found this room. And then I was all alone. I was all alone, and that’s the whole story.
    â€œNow you know why I have so many dressing gowns, so many suits, so many shoes.”
    He pressed his forehead against the windowpane. His voice faltered toward the end. He knew she was going to come up to him slowly