| The Bridge 6 |
| 1 | SIX Here's learningful serenity, comes from sleeping under airplane-wings in country fields: stars and rain and wind color dreams real. Hotels, I found neither educating nor serene. There's proper balanced nourishment, mixing panbread-flour and streamwater in the civilized wilderness of farmland America. Wolfing peanuts in taxicabs careening toward television studios is not so well-balanced. There's a proud hurray, when passengers step unharmed from an old two-winger back on the ground again, fear of heights turned to victory. |
| 2 | TV-talk forced between paid commercials and the tick of a second-hand, it lacks the same breath of triumph shared. But she's worth hotels and peanuts and eye-on-the-time interviews, my elusive soulmate, and meet her I would, if I kept moving, watching, searching through studios in many downtowns. It did not occur to me to doubt her existing, because I saw almost-hers all about me. I knew from barnstorming that America was pioneered by remarkably attractive women, for their daughters number millions today. |
| 3 | A gypsy passing through, I knew them only as lovely customers, sweetly pleasant to watch for the space of a biplane-ride. My words with them had been practical: The airplane is safer than it looks. If you'll tie your hair with a ribbon before we take off, ma'am, it'll be easier to brush after we land. Yes, it's that windy-ten minutes, after all, in an open cockpit at eighty miles per hour. Thank you. |
| 4 | That" will be three dollars, please. You're welcome! I liked the ride, too. Was it the talk-shows, was it the success of the book, was it my new bank account, or was it simply that I was no longer flying without stop? All at once I was meeting attractive women as never I had before. Intent on my search, I met each of them through a prism of hope: she was the one until she proved me wrong. Charlene, a television model, might have been my soulmate save that she was too pretty. |
| 5 | Invisible flaws in her mirror image reminded her that the Business is cruel, only a few years left to earn a retirement, to save for retraining. We could talk about something else, but not for long. Always she came back to the Business. Contracts, travel, money, agents. It was her way of saying she was frightened, and couldn't think her way out of the murderous silvered glass. Jaynie had no fear. Jaynie loved parties, she loved drinking. |
| 6 | Charming as a sunrise, she clouded and sighed when she found I didn't know where the action was. Jacqueline neither drank nor partied. Quick and bright by nature, she couldn't take the brightness for true. "High-school dropout," she said, "not a diploma to my name." Without a diploma, a person can't be educated, can she, and without degrees, a person's got to take what comes and hang on, hang on to the security of cocktail-serving no matter how it scrapes her mind. |
| 7 | It's good money, she said. I don't have an education. I had to drop out of school, you understand. Lianne cared not a whit for degrees, or for jobs. She wanted to be married, and the best way to be married was to be seen with me so that her ex-husband would turn jealous and want her again. Up from jealousy would come happiness. Tamara loved money, and so dazzling was she in her way that she was a fine woman for the price. |
| 8 | An artist's-model face, a mind that calculated even while she laughed. Well-read, well-traveled, multi-lingual. Her ex-husband was an investment broker, and now Tamara wanted to start her own broker's shop. A hundred thousand dollars would be enough to get her business off the ground. Just a hundred thousand, Richard, can you help me? If only, I thought. If only I could find a woman with Charlene's face but with Lianne's body, and Jacqueline's gifts and Jaynie's charm and Tamara's cool poise-there I'd be looking at a soulmate, wouldn't I? |
| 9 | Trouble was that Charlene's face had Charlene's fears, and Lianne's body had Lianne's troubles. Each new meeting was intriguing, but after a day the colors turned dull, intrigue vanished in the forest of ideas that we didn't share. We were pie-slices for each other, incomplete. Is there no woman, I thought at last, who can't prove in a day that she's not the one I'm looking for? Most of the ones I was finding had difficult pasts, most were overwhelmed with problems and looking for help, most needed more money than they had on hand. |
| 10 | We allowed for our quirks and flaws and, just-met, untested, we Called each other friends. It was a colorless kaleidoscope, every bit as changing and as grey as it sounds. By the time television tired of me, I had bought a short-wing, big-engine biplane to be company for the Moth. I practiced arduously, and later began flying acrobatic performances for hire. Thousands of people crowd summer airshows, I thought, and if I can't find her on television, perhaps I can find her at an airshow. |
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