Young and Revolting: The Continental Journals of Nick Twisp Read Online Free Page A

conflict with desire for sex. I must deny my need for what Sheeni isn’t willing to give so that she will want what she cannot have. I’m beginning to understand now why married men seek out prostitutes. Paying for it in cash is just so much less complicated.
     
    TUESDAY, May 18 — Fixed my darling a big plate of bacon and eggs this morning. Miraculously, this culinary return to our Anglo-Saxon roots restored her facility with English.
    “ Nickie, this isn’t working out.”
    I froze, fork stalled in mid-air. “What isn’t?” I gasped.
    “ Full immersion in French. And do you know why?”
    “ Why, darling?”
    “ Because you’re not making an effort. And I’d like to know why not!”
    Pushed to the linguistic wall and just aced out on the last piece of bacon, I confessed. Science had determined, I informed her, that I was incapable of learning a second language.
    “ That’s awful!” she exclaimed. “But why didn’t you tell me?”
    I sipped my coffee. “I don’t know. It’s, uh, a guy thing.”
    “ OK, Nick, I admit it. I’m not a guy. So please explain.”
    “ Darling, when a fellow gets married, he wants to be . . . the hero. He wants his wife to admire him, to be proud of him. He doesn’t like to admit to, well, any weakness.”
    “ But speaking infuriatingly crummy Spanish in France is OK?”
    “ Well, it’s not great,” I admitted.
    “ But, Nickie, what are you going to do if you can’t learn French? How will you get by?”
    “ Search me, Sheeni. That’s why I suggested we conserve our money by living in Topeka.”
    Sheeni sighed and slumped down in her chair. “Nickie, this is terrible.”
    “ I know,” I admitted. “If Hemingway had had my problem, he would never have met Gertrude Stein.”
    6:15 p.m. Distressed wife, at least, was cheered by the news that her parents were off combing Mexico on a fruitless quest. Perhaps they’ll turn up Ambrose Bierce instead. To get reacquainted, we only toured one museum (Musee de Cluny: more medieval detritus— from moth-eaten tapestries to Charlemagne’s jockstrap) and spent the rest of the afternoon in bed. After sloppy seconds, I dared to broach the subject of my love’s naked ring finger.
    “ Nickie, marriage is a very private affair.”
    “ Really? I thought it was a rather public statement of one’s mutual and loving commitment.”
    Sheeni thought this over while I fondled an area once off-limits by statute to anyone except lawful husbands. What a travesty this modern age has made of those customs!
    “ Nickie, we’re residing in one of the world’s most sophisticated cities. Even you will have to admit that being knocked up and married at age 15 is rather déclassé.”
    “ Lots of great people got married young, darling.”
    “ Please, Nick, I’d rather not hear any more about your Mr. Gandhi and his child bride. I think we should keep our marital status a secret until we’re older.”
    “ And if other guys ask you out?”
    “ Nick, I’m in France to learn, not for the opportunity to date a slew of attractive and fascinating Frenchmen.”
    Somehow I was not entirely reassured by that statement.
     
    TUESDAY, May 18 — Another middle-of-the-night phone call. I can see I’ll have to send Connie a Rolex set to Paris time.
    “ Freeway backed up again, Connie?” I yawned.
    “ The pits, Rick. There was another police chase. What some people won’t do to get on TV. You know somebody named Joan Twisp?”
    “ Sure, she’s my sister,” I replied, suddenly alert.
    “ I thought maybe there was a connection. There can’t be that many Twisps around. I mean it’s kind of a funny name.”
    “ Connie, were the cops chasing her?”
    “ What? No, there was an article about her in the L.A. Times . She had a kid.”
    “ Oh, right. She was due about now as I recall.” More yawning.
    “ Well, Rick, your sister made the front page.”
    Another familiar quiver at the base of my scrotum. Why was news of my family always so