And Sons A Novel by David Gilbert

Author:David Gilbert
Language: eng
Format: mobi
ISBN: 9780812993974
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 2013-07-15T21:00:00+00:00

HOTEL Hana-Maui

September 23, 1959

Dear Charlie,

Well we made it. The flight was endless and there was a moment after Los Angeles where the turbulence turned our 707 into one ugly duck but we flapped through and landed in Hawaii a full grown swan. If Maui is paradise, then Hana is its Eden. Isabel and I have tossed aside our fig leafs and gone native, shamelessness regained. If only we could have you sing Some Enchanted Evening again. That was quite a performance. Bravo. I must say the entire wedding was a blur, a pleasant blur but a blur nonetheless, though I recall a moment of you looking glum in the corner rusting, it seemed. I hope it wasn’t anything I said. Maybe it was too much drink and sweat—Christ it was hot. Did you have fun with any of Isabel’s friends? They are a decent bunch, if horsey. Seems I always smell hay when I’m around them. I didn’t see you on the dance floor except for that one turn with my bride—she said you were sweet—but perhaps that saved a few crushed toes. I still can’t believe you got up there and sang a song. It was almost funny. But you have a good strong voice. Charlie, you’re my oldest friend but we were bound to get older. I’m sure you’ll meet somebody soon, somebody great. We can’t do everything three weeks apart. And when you do get married I highly recommend Hana. I know you dislike the ocean and the beach but you would love this place. We swim all day long, the waves perfect rollers. I trust everything is tip top back in New York. Did my stepfather talk to you about moving over to Cravath? Is your Daddy down south for the dove season? I know nothing changes when you’re away from the city but boy do you feel like you’re missing scads. We move and yet stay still all at the same time. Did I tell you I got a very nice rejection from Gus Lobrano at The New Yorker? He wants to see more. Don’t think I am a natural short story writer but that’s the place to start these days. I certainly could spin a tale about that wedding that would curl O’Hare. Anyway, the surf beckons. Isabel and I bite the old apple in three weeks. I have no desire to return to the wicked east but return we shall as husband and wife. I must say I’m feeling quite lucky.

Your felled friend,

Andy

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