The Four Temperaments Read Online Free

left.”
    â€œThank God,” said Oscar, exhaling now. It could have been much worse. He'd have to help her control herself, this wayward girl sitting there amidst the remains of the napkin. Because clearly those impulses could get her into real trouble someday. Even now, if Mia McQuaid were to figure out that Ginny had been in the apartment, and if she were to complain to someone in the company . . . Oscar's mind raced ahead. Ginny would be suspended from dancing or fired, and he would never get to see her or be near her again.
    â€œYou are never to go there again, do you understand?” he said, feeling as if he had slipped back a decade and was lecturing one of his sons.
    â€œAll right,” she said quietly. “I won't. I promise. But right now, I'm so thirsty. Could I have another drink? Please?” He saw then that her glass was empty.
    By the
time they left the restaurant an hour and a half later, Ginny was drunk. Oscar felt responsible; she had ordered a third drink before the meal came and another while she was eating it. But when he tried to suggest that she slow down, she argued, saying that she was old enough to do what she wanted. In the end, he didn't insist.
    As he propelled her out into the street, she waved cheerfully at their waiter, at the hostess and several people who were just coming in. Then she began humming; Oscar thought he recognized the score from Stravinsky's
Firebird.
He was trying to hail a cab when she broke loose from his grasp and darted out into the middle of the street. A large dark car screeched to a halt and an angry face appeared at the window. “What the hell do you think you're doing, lady?” the driver hollered.
    â€œGrands jetés?” Ginny replied in a small voice, her high spirits instantly evaporating. She looked frightened and near tears. Oscar put his arm firmly around her shoulders and led her back to the curb, where he was successful in his quest for a taxi. He gave the driver his address. He wasn't going to leave her alone. Not in her condition.
    The apartment
was dark when they arrived. Oscar was sorry that Ruth was still away. She would have been better at handling a drunk and weepy girl; Ginny had cried most of the way uptown in the cab. As it was, he took Ginny to the guest room, where he took off her shoes, wiped her face with a washcloth and watched solicitously as she downed a big glass of water and the two Tylenol he insisted she take. Then he gently helped her to lie down on one of the narrow beds where the boys had slept—a scruffy teddy bear still snuggled against the pillows. He went on into his own room, the room he and Ruth had shared for so many years. He left the door open, so he would hear her if she called out or needed anything. She must have passed out immediately, for by the time he had undressed, he could hear the raucous sounds of her snoring.
    Later—he
had been sleeping soundly under a cool, pale sheet—he was aware of something on his forehead. Was it Ruth returning early?
    â€œOscar,” said a voice it took him a few seconds to identify. “Oscar, get up,” Ginny whispered urgently.
    He opened his eyes. Though the room was dark, he could see that she was naked; her white skin seemed to glow. Without hesitation, he reached for her, and at long last, she was in his arms. He kissed her frantically, as if she were a dangerously ill child whose raging fever had just broken. The scar, the tiny scar on her neck. He could feel it in the dark, and he kissed it over and over again. Oscar was surprised—but also deeply and humbly grateful—for the ardent way in which she responded to his fumbling. Under his hands, she seemed as delicate and easy to wield as his violin.
    Oscar woke again at dawn and lay for a long while without moving as he watched the silver light brighten into the flat white glare of day. Ginny was sprawled out next to him, extended limbs as wide and flagrant as those of a