GLASS SOUP by Jonathan Carroll (funny books to read .txt) 📕

his own utter lack of success with Isabelle Neukor. He knew for certain that if he had asked her to dance she would have dismissed the thought out of hand and said no to him immediately.

Ettrich put his hands up in the classic position, inviting her to join him. She felt like a young girl again—nervous and hesitant but excited too. Thrilled—that was the right word. She hadn’t felt thrilled about anything in a long time but his request brought that emotion rushing back to her. Stepping forward, she matched her hands to his and they began. Flora and Simon moved back to give them more room.

People nearby looked over and smiled. Dancing—what a good ideal! But not until the song was almost over did anyone else join them. So this couple, these strangers, had the floor to themselves. Ettrich was careful not to hold her too close and she noticed that. To test or maybe to taunt him, she slowly pushed her body closer to his. Just as slowly he moved away so that little was touching between them besides their hands and arms. It reminded her of dancing school years ago, preparing for her first Viennese ball with a boy who was terrified of her.

Halfway through the song Vincent’s mouth moved close to her ear and he spoke in a quiet clear voice. Not sexy but intimate, only to her. “My parents were the most romantic couple I’ve ever known. Whenever I hear this tune I think of them because they liked it so much. Both knew the lyric by heart.”

She pulled back to look at him. “Really? I love it when people do that. Are your parents still alive?”

“No, they were killed in a car accident years ago.” The way he said it chilled her more than the grisly fact. There was such sadness and loss in his voice.

Without hesitating she asked, “What were they like?”

Now Ettrich pulled back and looked at Isabelle with surprise. “My parents? Do you really want to know?”

What touched her was again the tone of his voice: it was both eager and skeptical. He clearly wanted to answer her question; but he was also afraid of what she would do with it. His ambivalent tone asked Can I trust you with this? I want to.

Part of life is a quest to find that one essential person who will understand our story. But we choose wrongly so often. Over the ensuing years that person we thought understood us best ends up regarding us with pity, indifference, or active dislike.

Those who truly care can be divided into two categories: those who understand us, and those who forgive our worst sins. Rarely do we find someone capable of both.

Ettrich did not know this woman but her hand in his was firm and everything about her said I am here—tell me whatever you want.

In the meantime Flora and Simon had drifted off to the bar where they were both drinking big stiff ones and making forced, desultory conversation. Haden was the first to notice what was happening nearby but couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. “Look at them. Flora. You have to look, quickly!”

Flora had her glass tipped up and did not want to look at them, thank you. She had already seen more than enough. Simon was just being his normal shitty self and trying to make her suffer more. The next thing he’d probably do was suggest finding a room somewhere so they could have a quickie as a way of taking some of the sting away from their disappointment.

“Please, Flora, look.”

She made an exasperated face, slapped her glass down on the bar and looked. The couple were close enough for her to see that Vincent Ettrich’s cheeks were shiny with tears. He made no attempt to wipe them away. He only danced and stared at Isabelle as if she had just said something of the greatest importance.

“What the hell is going on with them?”

Flora continued to stare at the dancers while out of the side of her mouth she said, “Look at them, Simon. What do you think is going on?”

He wasn’t having it. “Oh come on. They met half an hour ago and now he’s crying. Did she step on his foot?”

Isabelle kidnapped Vincent from the party. They danced on, oblivious to anything but each other. Flora and Haden stopped watching and went back to drinking. Then they began to argue about something stupid. But because both of them were inwardly fuming, ripe for a good fight, they really got into it. Later while she was speaking, Simon deliberately stuck out his arm and looked at his watch as obviously and rudely as possible to display how bored he was with this quarrel. Flora shifted her eyes to find the couple but by then they were gone. She brought this to Haden’s attention, adding the soupçon that this whole damned thing was his fault for having brought Ettrich to the party in the first place. What the hell was he thinking?

CHOING! One could almost hear the bell ring for round two of their battle. Both came out swinging. When it comes to passion there is no substitute for sex, but anger is a pretty good one. Haden and Flora had been lovers a few years before but that only made them more formidable adversaries now. This time there was no coyness or reluctance in their verbal punches. No sexy hidden agendas or plans either. Because they had already gone through that stuff on their way to the bedroom and eventually out the other side way back when. As a result what ensued now was muddy, ugly, and true. They reached the low point of their relationship in no time at all and by unspoken mutual consent took it even lower.

Two miles away Isabelle drove fast down the Linke Wienzeile, the dashboard lights of her car glowing in steady blue contrast to the neon and halogen city lights flashing by