Farewell, Dorothy Parker by Dorothy Parker Ellen Meister - Farewell Page B

no goose and nothing to cook, Violet thought. Couldn’t Mrs. Parker see that this guy was beyond her reach? Besides, it was becoming increasingly obvious he had something going on with Mariana.
    He continued, “And in the middle of dealing with all that, her girlfriend left her.”
    “Girlfriend?”
    Girlfriend?
    Violet turned to look at him. Mariana, gay? She had never suspected.
    Michael frowned. “I guess I have a big mouth.”
    Ha! Trust me, that was no accident. He wants you to know there’s nothing going on between the two of them.
    “No, it’s okay. I’m sure it’s not a secret. In fact, I think she tried to tell me, but I was too thick to connect the dots.”
    He laughed. “I’ve read your reviews. The last thing anyone could call you is thick.”
    This darling man is flirting, my dear. Flirt back.
    Violet put the creamer, the sugar, and the cups onto a large tray and asked Michael if he would mind carrying it into the dining room for her. When he left, she whispered to her invisible mentor, “You have to stop this. He’s not interested in me.”
    I beg to differ.
    “A man like that…he probably dates twenty-year-old fitness instructors.”
    Don’t sell yourself short. There’s a lot to be said for intelligence andmaturity. Besides, you’re a perfectly lovely woman. I’m quite sure he finds you appealing. You have a certain lithe grace, you know.
    Violet didn’t want to let Dorothy Parker talk her into thinking she had a chance with Michael. It could only lead to disappointment.
    “Please,” she said, “just help me get through this evening without embarrassing myself.”
    You need to set your goals a bit higher, my dear.
    Later, after the group sang “Happy Birthday” to Mariana, Violet sliced the cake and passed pieces around the table.
    Why doesn’t that skinny girl take a slice of cake? Hell, she can take two or three.
    The Algonquin guest book was now on the dining room sideboard, and Mrs. Parker was in all her glory, floating around the room unseen, making snide comments about the guests.
    “Suzette,” Violet said, “there’s a bowl of apples if you’d like one.”
    Suzette stared at them and sucked air. “Do you have any Granny Smiths?”
    “Sorry. But these are very good.”
    Suzette extracted an apple with two fingers, as if it was dripping with something toxic, and set it on her plate. She picked up her fork and knife and cut a slice.
    Well, now she’s just making a pig of herself.
    “How about you, Jason?” Violet asked the short-attention-span hairdresser.
    He peered at the slice she was offering. “That looks like…What do you call that kind of cake that has a lot of layers?”
    “Layer cake?”
    “Layer cake,” Jason repeated. “Yes, I love layer cake. Thank you.”
    I once had a dachshund smarter than this one.
    The two Lindas discussed sharing a piece and finally decided they would each have their own.
    “I shouldn’t, but I will,” said one.
    Story of my life.
    “So how old are you?” the other Linda asked Mariana.
    “I’m twenty-eight. But I’m an actress, so I’ll always be twenty-eight.”
    Appreciative titters spread around the table.
    “How come you’re not in Los Angeles, trying to get into movies?” asked Jason.
    “Yeah,” said the other Linda. “I bet Violet has connections and could help you out.”
    Oh, no, Violet thought. Not that. Anything but that. People often assumed she could help them out with their movie careers, but the truth was that critics had no Hollywood connections. In fact, keeping a distance was part of the job.
    It was okay, though, because she had a joke all ready. She kept it stored in her arsenal for just such an occasion. It was the perfect quip to deflect the situation—not terribly witty, but light and cute without a hint of hostility. Now that she was faced with actually saying it, she worried it would be misunderstood.
    She practiced it in her head: I’m barely connected to the
Internet.
    Did it sound