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

As she was about to step down off the curb into the street, a white bull terrier with one black ear pedaled by on a small red tricycle. Isabelle guessed who it was too because Simon had once told her at mind-numbing length about his beloved boyhood bull terrier Floyd. At any other time she would have called out the dog’s name and tried to stop it. Maybe in this strange place dogs talked and she could find out valuable things. But at the moment she couldn’t let that woman escape. After the dog had pedaled past, she rushed across the street.

Simon Haden was unquestionably a selfish, immoral man. Yet he had once done something wholly out of character that Isabelle always liked him for very much. One Saturday morning several years before, her phone had rung and out of the blue it turned out to be Simon. He was in town for two days with his mother. Isabelle thought he was joking but he wasn’t. He wanted her to meet his mom and asked if she would join them for coffee and cake at Café Demel on the Kohlmarkt.

Arriving there an hour later, she saw Simon talking animatedly to an unfriendly looking sourpuss of a woman dressed in clothes so uniformly beige and nondescript that she almost faded into the background of that sumptuously ornate café.

When Simon saw Isabelle coming, he stood up and with great enthusiasm and fanfare, introduced her to his mother. Beth Haden took Isabelle’s hand and looked at her as uninterestedly as one would look at a choice of brooms in a market. The next hour with mother and son was both a bore and a surprising testament to filial love.

Beth Haden had been widowed five months before. She was living alone now in a retirement community in North Carolina. She liked nothing. She had no friends, no hobbies, and no ambitions. Everything in her life was either flawed, flat, suspect, or not worth the effort. She inherited some money when her husband died but had no plans for spending it. What for? She didn’t need anything and there was nothing she wanted.

At which point Simon interrupted her and said sweetly, “That isn’t true, Mom. There was something you wanted and now that you’re actually here, you have it: Europe.” All her life Mrs. Haden had dreamed of going to Europe after having read the Lanny Budd books of Upton Sinclair when she was a girl. Throughout their marriage she had periodically and pointedly told that wish to her husband who either ignored it or said don’t be ridiculous.

At his father’s funeral, Simon put his arm around her and said, “Ma, let’s go to Europe together for a few weeks—just you and me. There’s nothing stopping you now. We’ll go anywhere you want. I’ll be your traveling companion.” His mother looked at him like he was being ridiculous now, but in due course she agreed.

When Isabelle met them in the café that day, they had been in Europe for two weeks and Mrs. Haden hated it. Everything was too expensive. The food was too hot or too cold, unsalted, unsavory, or untrustworthy. In Greece she had seen things hanging in butcher shop windows that would give her nightmares for the rest of her life. European beds were lumpy, drivers were insane, the toilet paper felt like tree bark, and everyone smoked everywhere. There was no escaping it. She said all of this in a monotone of relentless woe that soon had Isabelle fighting back laughter. It was the first time in her life that she had ever encountered a true misanthrope. Most people liked something, but apparently not Simon’s mom. Feeling reckless and naughty, Isabelle asked Beth how she’d liked the Louvre (too crowded), the Spanish Steps (crawling with hippies on drugs), the Parthenon (not much there left to see), and the Viennese opera? It was a bore.

As a final experiment, Isabelle ordered a slice of her favorite cake in the world which by nice coincidence was a Demel exclusive and served only there. All her life she’d eaten that cake and if it didn’t belong on God’s table in Heaven then no food did. Yes, it was that sublime. When the cake arrived she slid it across the table to Mrs. Haden and said she must try it. Beth did not hesitate reaching forward with a fork and gouging off a hefty piece. Isabelle caught Simon’s eye and gave him an assured thumbs-up.

After swallowing her piece of the greatest cake in the universe, Mrs. Haden lay the fork down just so next to her plate. “It’s flavorsome. But I’m no great fan of hazelnuts.”

Add to that she walked like a fast duck. Hurrying to catch her now, Isabelle watched Beth Haden move up the street in a kind of determined waddle. Well maybe not a waddle, but her feet pointed out to the sides whenever they landed, giving her a marked side-to-side gait.

When close enough to be heard, Isabelle called out, “Mrs. Haden? Beth? Wait, Mrs. Haden. Please.”

The woman stopped but did not turn around. Isabelle caught up with her and walked a few steps farther so that without turning Beth could see who was calling her name.

“Mrs. Haden, do you remember me? My name is Isabelle Neukor. We met a few years ago in Vienna when you were there with your son. I’m a friend of Simon.”

Beth Haden said nothing. She was waiting to hear more.

“We all had coffee together in Vienna at the Café Demel when the two of you were traveling in Europe.”

Mrs. Haden’s face relaxed. “Oh yes, Isabelle! You’re the one who had the delicious cake. Now I remember you. And do I ever remember that cake! Mmm. What was it called again?”

“You mean the marzipan nusstorte?”

“Yes, nusstorte. That’s right. It was the most delectable sweet I ever had in my entire life. I’m so grateful you made me taste it. I’ve always remembered that bite.”

Right