By Iris Owens

Harriet is leaving her boyfriend Claude, “the French rat.” That a minimum of is how Harriet sees issues, no matter if it’s Claude who has simply requested Harriet to go away his Greenwich Village house. good, a method or one other she has no purpose of leaving. on the contrary, she's going to remain and particular revenge—or might have if Claude had now not had her unceremoniously evicted. nonetheless, notwithstanding moved out, Harriet isn't approximately to maneuver on. now not whatsoever. Girlfriends circle round to patronize and recommend, yet Harriet basically takes offense, and it’s effortless to appreciate why. simply because mad and maddening as she can be, Harriet sees prior the well mannered platitudes that everybody else is content material to spout and stay via. She is an unblinkered, unbuttoned, unrelenting, and certainly bitingly humorous prophetess of all that's mistaken with women’s lives and hearts—until, in a shock twist, she reveals a savior in a gloomy room on the Chelsea resort.

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Like hell. You don’t communicate. You trample over other people’s feelings. You don’t even listen to what anyone else says, except to tell them how stupid they are. ” His voice was shaking with fury. “Not true, not true. You’re misinterpreting my enthusiasm. It’s in my nature to have strong opinions. But your reactions are much more important to me than good sense. ” “I am not simply talking about your boring opinions but about the disgusting way you go berserk when I’m not in total agreement with you.

What boring? It is a fact that Frenchmen find everything except the sound of their own voices boring. If not for an inborn craving for flattery, French ears would have gone the way of fins, tails, and tonsils. Was that a clue? Had I, in my frank American fashion, neglected to lay on the adulation that Claude felt was his birthright? I felt a wave of gratitude, but toward whom or what escaped me. After the initial blackout, my brain was again functioning. Was Claude out there sulking because he felt cheated of the endless declarations of gratitude that make a Frenchman feel alive?

Get out of here,” he said. ” “Well, it’s a relief to know I’m not interrupting your baptism. ” “Don’t start on me, Harriet. ” “You know, seeing you in the tub like that reminds me of a drama I saw on One Step Beyond. It was about this murderer, a doctor, who killed five of his wives before justice caught up with him. The thing that made justice suspicious was that all five of his five wives died in the bathtub, which struck them as too much of a good thing, since the doctor didn’t exactly marry paupers.

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