Chapter 16 sixteen

Notice of Change of Address Oliver Barrett fourth couple Relocated to New York, NY since July 1, 1967 263 East 63rd Street Zip Code 10021 This enlightenment "It's so upstart," Gianni complained. "We are nouveau riche!" I insisted. One thing that adds to my sense of elation is this: I now pay almost as much a month for the car rental alone as we would have paid for an entire apartment in Cambridge!In fact, Jonas & Marsh is within ten minutes of walking (or striding—I prefer the latter gait), and luxury stores like Bonwit & Co. are within easy reach (I insist on My mother-in-law immediately opened an account in those gold-selling caves and let go of the money).

"Oliver, what is this for?" "Jenny, I'm just going to be taken for a ride, damn it!" I joined the Harvard Club in New York on the recommendation of Raymond Stratton, Class of '64.He also shot a few shots in Indochina, shot a few Viet Cong, and recently returned from the army (he said: "Actually, I'm not sure it was Viet Cong. Anyway, I heard the noise and opened fire into the jungle. ").Ray and I play squash at least three times a week, and I aspire to be the champion of the club within three years.I don't know if my reappearance in Harvard circles will have such an immediate appeal, or the news of my success in law school has already spread (I don't brag about the salary, in all conscience), anyway, my "friends" "They all recognize me again.We moved in the middle of summer (since I had to prepare for the NYC bar rush) and the first invitations were mostly weekends.

1 A game similar to tennis played on a court with walls on three sides. "Oliver, fuck them. I don't want to waste two days talking to a bunch of boring preppies." "Okay, Jen, but how am I going to tell them?" "Just say I'm pregnant, Oliver." "Is it true?" I asked. "No, but if we stay home this weekend, maybe I will." We've already picked out a name for the baby.It should be said that I picked it, but in the end Jenny must agree. "Hey, you're not kidding me, are you?" I said the first time I mentioned it to her.She was in the kitchen (a row of cream-yellow buttons on the stove, even the dishwasher).

"What's up?" she asked, still chopping tomatoes. "I really like the name Shangbozhu," I said. "You're not kidding, are you?" she asked. "Where can it be! I really like it." "You really going to name our baby Bozo?" she asked again. "Yes. It's true. Seriously, James, that's the name of a super sports star." "Bozo Barrett." She tried to say it to see if it sounded good. "Oh, he's going to be a scary big man," I said, believing myself more and more. "'Bozo Barrett, Giants running back on Harvard All-Ivey team.'"

"That's all well and good, but, Oliver," she asked, "what if—I'm only supposing—the boy isn't quick enough?" "No way, Jen, his genes are too good. Really." I mean it.This whole set of ideas about Bozo has become a daydream I take for granted whenever I strut to work. I continued on the subject during dinner.Now the porcelain tableware we use is all the best Danish products. "Bozo's going to be a big nimble guy," I said to Janney. "Honestly, if he had hands like yours, we could put him on the line." 1. In a rugby game, the main task of the defensive lineman is to hug the opposing player who is running with the ball.

She just smirked at me, no doubt thinking of a trick, eager to find a few words to kill the scenery, so as to pour cold water on my wonderful fantasy.But since she couldn't use the real killer copper, she had to cut the cake and hand me a piece.In the end, she still listened to me. "Just think of it, Jenny," I went on, even though the cake was filling my mouth, "a big, sharp guy at two hundred and forty pounds." "Two hundred and forty pounds?" she said. "Oliver, nothing in our genes can guarantee two hundred and forty pounds." "Zhan, let's feed him fat. High protein, nutritious products, all the good things that make up the body should be used together."

"Oh, is it? What if he won't eat, Oliver?" "He's gotta eat it, damn it," I said.Thinking of the kid who was going to be sitting at our dinner table not going to cooperate with my plan to make him a sports star already made me a little angry. "If he doesn't eat, I'll make his face bloom." Hearing this, Jenny looked straight at me and smiled. "If he has two hundred and four, you don't want to beat him, don't think about it!" "Oh," I was at a loss for words, but then I came to my senses, "but he won't grow to two hundred and four all at once!"

"Yes, yes," Jenny raised his spoon at me in a warning manner, "but once he does grow to two hundred and four, preppy, then you'd better run away!" She was rocking back and forth laughing. It's funny how, when she was laughing out loud, I saw a 240-pound kid in diapers chasing me in Central Park, yelling, "Don't you bully my mom, preppy!" God, I wish Gianni would keep Bozo in check before he beat me up.