Breakfast at Tiffany’s

CHAPTER ONE

What Happened to Holly Golightly?

I sometimes visit places where I lived in the past – the houses andAnd - та their neighborhoods. I like to see them againAgain - знову. There’s a brown stone house in the East Seventies where, during the early years of the war, I had my first New York apartmentApartment - апартаменти, квартира. It was one room, crowded with anAn - невизначений артикль old red sofa andAnd - та red chairs. The walls were dark andAnd - та dirty from old cigarette smoke. The single window looked out onto a fire escape, a stairway that went down to the street. It wasn’t a big place but it made me happy. It was my first home, andAnd - та my books were there, andAnd - та a box of pencils. Everything that a writer needed, I thought.

I didn’t write about Holly Golightly in those days. I’m only writing about her now because of a conversation that I had with Joe Bell.

Holly Golightly was anotherAnother - інший, ще tenant in the old brown stone house, in the apartmentApartment - апартаменти, квартира below mine. Joe Bell had a bar aroundAround - навколо, приблизно, біля, по... the corner; he’s still there. Both Holly andAnd - та I went there six or seven times every day, not for a drink – not alwaysAlways - завжди – but to make telephone calls. During the war few people had a private telephone. Joe Bell took messages for us. Holly got a lot of messages.

Of course, this was a long time agoAgo - тому. I didn’t see Joe Bell for years, not until last week. We weren’t close friends but we were both friends of Holly Golightly.

It isn’t easy to like Joe. He isn’t married andAnd - та he has a bad stomach. He’s hard to talk to, except about his own interests. Holly is one of his interests; the others areAre - бути, перебувати; ар dogs, a radio program that he’s listened to every week for fifteen years, andAnd - та musical theater.

Late last Tuesday afternoonAfternoon - пообідній час, the telephone rang andAnd - та I heard Joe Bell’s voice.

I knew he was calling about Holly. He just said, “Can you come over here? It’s important.” There was excitement in his voice.

I took a taxi through the October rain andAnd - та on the way I thought about Holly. Was she there? Was she in Joe’s bar?

But there was no one in the bar except Joe. His place is very quiet. It doesn’t have bright lights or a television.

“I want your opinion about something,” he said. “Something very strange has happened.”

“Have you heard from Holly?”

Joe is a small man with a fine head of thick, white hair. His face is alwaysAlways - завжди a little red: now it went even redder. “I didn’t hear from her. Not exactly. That’s why I want your opinion. I’ll pour you a drink.”

AsAs - як I was drinking, he said, “Do you remember Mr. I.Y. Yunioshi? A man from Japan?”

I remembered Mr. Yunioshi perfectly. He takes photos for one of the picture magazines. He lived in anAn - невизначений артикль apartmentApartment - апартаменти, квартира on the top floor of the old house at the same time asAs - як Holly andAnd - та I.

“He came here last night. I haven’t seen him for more than two years. AndAnd - та where was he for those two years?”

“AfricaAfrica - Африка, африканський.”

Joe looked at me, surprised. “How do you know?”

“I read it in a magazine.”

Joe gave me anAn - невизначений артикль envelope. In the envelope were three photos of a tall AfricanAfrican - American man wearing a cotton skirt. There was a strange, wood carving of a girl’s head in his hands. Her hair was very short. Her smooth, wooden eyes were too large andAnd - та her mouth was too big. Was it a carving of Holly Golightly?

“What do you think of that?” Joe askedAsked - запитав.

“It looks like her.”

“Listen, boy, it is her. Mr. Yunioshi knew her immediately.”

“He saw her? In AfricaAfrica - Африка, африканський?”

“No, just the carving. But it’s the same thing. Look.” Joe turned over one of the photos. On the back was written: Wood carving, Tococul, Christmas Day, 1956.

This was the story. On Christmas Day, Mr. Yunioshi walked through Tococul with his camera. It was a small place, just a few houses. He was leaving when he saw the AfricanAfrican - American.

The AfricanAfrican - American was sitting outside a house, carving a piece of wood. Mr. Yunioshi liked his work.

“Show me more of your carvings,” he said. Then he saw the girl’s head.

“I want to buy this,” Mr. Yunioshi said to the AfricanAfrican - American.

“No,” the AfricanAfrican - American replied.

Mr. Yunioshi offered him a pound of salt andAnd - та ten dollars, then offered him a watch, two pounds of salt, andAnd - та twenty dollars. The AfricanAfrican - American refused to sell. But for the watch andAnd - та the salt he agreedAgreed - узгоджений, вирішений; пого... to talk about the carving.

“‘Three white people rode here on horses in the spring. A young woman andAnd - та two men. The men were sick, andAnd - та for many weeks they slept in a small house far from here. The girl liked me andAnd - та she slept with me.'”

“I don’t believe that part of the story,” Joe Bell said. “I don’t think she slept with him.”

“AndAnd - та then?” I askedAsked - запитав.

“Then nothing,” Joe said. “She rode away[əˈweɪ] геть, далеко; віддалений  with the two men. Mr. Yunioshi askedAsked - запитав about her up andAnd - та down the country. But nobody saw her.”

I wasn’t happy with his story. “Mr. Yunioshi’s story doesn’t tell us anythingAnything - що,” I said.

“It’s the only real news that we’ve had about her for years,” Joe said. “I hope she’s rich. If she’s traveling in AfricaAfrica - Африка, африканський, she’s OK.”

“She’s probably not in AfricaAfrica - Африка, африканський,” I said. But I could imagine her there. It was a place that she would like. I looked at the photos againAgain - знову.

“If you know so much, where is she?” Joe askedAsked - запитав.

“Dead. Or in a hospital for crazy people. Or married. I think she’s married. She’s living quietly, here in New York.”

Joe thought for a minute. “No,” he said. “I like to walk. I’ve walked these streets for ten or twelve years. I look for her allAll - всі, увесь, все, весь, цілий, ко... the time andAnd - та I never see her… Do you think I’m crazy?”

“No. But I didn’t know you loved her.”

My words hurt Joe andAnd - та I felt bad. He picked up the photos andAnd - та put them back into the envelope. I looked at my watch. I wanted to leave.

“Wait,” Joe said. “Of course I loved her. But I didn’t want to touch her. I’m almostAlmost - майже sixty-seven andAnd - та I still think about sex. But I didn’t want to sleep with Holly. You can love someone but not want them in that way. You stay strangers, strangers who areAre - бути, перебувати; ар friends.”

Two men came into the bar. It was time to leave. Joe followed me to the door. “Do you believe it?” he askedAsked - запитав.

“That you didn’t want to touch her?”

“About AfricaAfrica - Африка, африканський.”

For a minute I couldn’t remember the story, just the thought of her on the horse. “She’s gone,” I said.

“Yes,” he said, opening the door. “She’s gone.”

Outside, the rain stopped, so I walked aroundAround - навколо, приблизно, біля, по... the corner andAnd - та alongAlong - shore the street. I went past the old apartmentApartment - апартаменти, квартира building. The building stands next to a church in the middle of the block. It’s smarter now, with a black painted door andAnd - та new windows.

I went up the steps andAnd - та looked at the mailboxes. I knew none of the names, except Mrs. Sapphia Spanella’s. She still lived there.

One of these mailboxes first introduced me to Holly Golightly.

A week afterAfter - після, потім, після того як, п... I moved into the apartmentApartment - апартаменти, квартира, I noticed a card next to the mailbox for ApartmentApartment - апартаменти, квартира 2. It was smartly printed, but there was a strange message on it. It said: Miss Holiday Golightly, andAnd - та, below that, in the corner, Traveling. I thought about it a lot: Miss Holiday Golightly, Traveling.

One night, long afterAfter - після, потім, після того як, п... midnight, I woke up. Mr. Yunioshi was calling down the stairs. He lived on the top floor, andAnd - та his voice sounded through the house.

“Miss Golightly!” he shouted, angrilyAngrily - сердито, гнівно.

I heard a voice from the bottom of the stairs. It was young, amusedAmused - задоволений, веселий, радіс..., andAnd - та silly. “Oh, darling, I amAm - бути, перебувати sorry. I lost my key.”

“You cannot ring my bell every night. Please get anotherAnother - інший, ще key.”

“But I lose them allAll - всі, увесь, все, весь, цілий, ко....”

“I work. I have to sleep,” Mr. Yunioshi shouted. “But you areAre - бути, перебувати; ар alwaysAlways - завжди ringing my bell…”

“Oh, don’t be angry[ˈæŋgrɪ] сердитий, розлючений , you dear little man. I won’t do it againAgain - знову.” Her voice was coming nearer because she was climbing the stairs. “Promise you won’t be angry[ˈæŋgrɪ] сердитий, розлючений . Then you can take those photos that we talked about.”

I left my bed andAnd - та opened the door a little.

“When?” Mr. Yunioshi askedAsked - запитав. His voice was excited now.

The girl laughed. “One day,” she answeredAnswered - відповів. The words were unclear. She was drunk.

“AnyAny - який time,” Mr. Yunioshi said, andAnd - та closed his door.

I went out into the hall andAnd - та looked down. She was on the stairs. I could see her but she couldn’t see me. Her short hair shone in the light, yellow andAnd - та brown. It was a warm evening, almostAlmost - майже summer, andAnd - та she wore a light black dress andAnd - та black shoes. She was thin but healthy-looking. Her mouth was large andAnd - та a pair of dark glasses covered her eyes. She wasn’t a child – but she wasn’t a woman, either. I learned later that it was two months before her nineteenth birthday.

She wasn’t aloneAlone - один, самітний; лише. There was a man behind her. He was short andAnd - та fat, wearing a suit. His hand was on her back, holding her with his fat fingers. That made me uncomfortable – it just looked strange.

When they reached her door, she looked in her purse for her key. Now he was kissing the back of her neck. She found the key, opened the door, andAnd - та turned to him.

“Thank you for bringing me home, darling. That was kind.”

“Hey, baby!” he said. She was closing the door in his face.

“Yes, Harry?”

“Harry was the other guy. I’m Sid. Sid Arbuck. You like me.”

“I love you, Mr. Arbuck. But good night, Mr Arbuck.” She shut the door.

“Hey, baby, let me in. You like me. I paid the check for five people, your friends! So you like me, right? You like me, baby.”

He knocked on the door quietly, then more loudly. Then he stepped back. Did he plan to break down the door? But he ran down the stairs, hitting the wall angrilyAngrily - сердито, гнівно with his hand. When he reached the bottom, the girl opened her apartmentApartment - апартаменти, квартира door.

“Oh, Mr. Arbuck…”

He turned back to her, a happy smile on his face.

“The next time a girl asksAsks - запитує, питає for some money for the bathroom, darling, don’t give her twenty-five cents!” She wasn’t joking.