The Stories of John Cheever

I was kept busy getting settled and I had to go into Boston several times to find work so I wasn’t able to entertain his fiancée until I had been back a week or two. I asked her for tea. Lovell asked me not to smoke cigars and I agreed to this. I could see his point. He is very uneasy about what he calls my “bohemianism” and I wanted to make a good impression. They came at four. Her name is Donna-Mae Hirshman. Her parents are German immigrants. She is twenty-one years old and works as a clerk in some insurance office. Her voice is high. She giggles. The one thing that can be said in her favor is that she has a striking head of yellow hair. I suppose Lovell may be attracted by her fairness but this hardly seems reason enough to marry. She giggled when we were introduced. She sat on the red sofa and as soon as she saw Europa she giggled again. Lovell could not take his eyes off her. I poured her tea and asked if she wanted lemon or cream. She said she didn’t know. Then I asked politely what she usually took in her tea and she said she’d never drunk tea before. Then I asked what she usually drank and she said she drank mostly tonic and sometimes beer. I gave her tea with milk and sugar, and tried to think of something to say. Lovell broke the ice by asking me if I didn’t think her hair was beautiful. I said that it was very beautiful. Well, it’s a lot of work, she said. I have to wash it twice a week in whites of egg. Oh, there’s been plenty of times when I’ve wanted to cut it off. People don’t understand. People think that if God crowns you with a beautiful head of hair you ought to treasure it but it’s just as much work as a sinkful of dishes. You have to wash it and dry it and comb it and brush it and put it up at night. I know it’s hard to understand but honest to God there’s days when I would just like to chop it off but Mummy made me promise on the Bible that I wouldn’t, I’ll take it down for you if you’d like.