By Philip Wylie
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Extra resources for An April Afternoon
She shook her head. "No use. I remember when you swam up. They said we were out there for three quarters of an hour. And your poor--" She pulled me toward her and kissed me then and it was the way you would like to be kissed, if you had one hour to live. The doctor's advice ran into my mind. He'd said to do exactly this. And then, in a few well-chosen words--poetic, he had suggested--I would tell her about my feelings. But no intention could have been farther from me, in spite of the memory. I would not have changed her expression--for my life.
Joyce--" he said quietly "--that's my wife--was hurt. Quite some time ago. A truck smashed into her car, and since then she's never been able to find the way back to herself. " Then he was afraid we wouldn't understand that. "It's very nice. " Virginia's eyes were on him, admiring him for this. John and Connie were sad. "Amnesia," John suggested. "Something like it. And yet different from most cases. " "Maybe surgery--" Bill shook his head. "Nobody understands what it is. I've had the best neurologists, surgeons, psychiatrists--.
There was the War for him first, and I read his name in the papers more than once. John's too--but Barney's war was gay. John's was somber. After that--exploring and his anthropology--his African mines. It's a kind of a dirty trick--isn't it--for the loser in a romance to make himself the more romantic figure? It was the same when John and Barney were there for dinner. John's commanding and steadying. Barney's commanding and--quickening. They were always like that. And perhaps, when' I married, I tried to be wise rather than honest.