The Graduate Page 16
“You’re flying down to my house?”
“Right. I’ll get it during the night.”
“You’ll sneak in my house?”
“Right.”
Elaine frowned at him. “That’s the stupidest thing I ever heard,” she said.
“What’s stupid about it.”
“Because I’ll just call my father and he’ll send it up.”
“Well we can’t let them know about it till after we’re married.”
“Oh.”
“So it’s all set then.”
“I told you I haven’t decided yet.”
“I know,” he said. “But that’s how we’ll do it.” He stood and walked across the room to the door of the closet to feel a sock that was drying on the doorknob. “I assume you have a key to your house and everything,” he said.
“Benjamin?”
“What.”
She turned in her chair to look at him. “Do you really have any idea of what you’re doing?”
“Of course I do,” he said.
“I mean you think about flying down to my house in the middle of the night and sneaking off with the birth certificate, but do you think about the rest of it?”
“Of course.”
“Have you thought about finding a place to live and buying the groceries every day?”
“Sure.”
“You haven’t.”
“Well I haven’t thought about the kind of cereal we’ll buy at the market.”
“Why not.”
“What?”
“I mean that’s the kind of thing you’ll have to be thinking about, Benjamin, and I think you’ll get sick of it after two days.”
“Well I won’t get sick of you, will I?” She stood up. “I think you probably will,” she said. “Come on.”
“Because I’m not what you think I am, Benjamin.”
“What are you talking about.”
“I’m just a plain ordinary person,” she said. “I’m not smart or glamorous or anything like that.”
“So?”
“So I think you might be better off with someone smart and glamorous.”
“I wouldn’t,” he said.
“You want someone dumb and drab.”
“That’s right.”
“Well what about babies.”
“What about babies.”
“Well, do you want any?” she said. “Because that’s what I want.”
“I do too.”
“Come on,” she said. “What?”
“How could a person like you possibly want babies.”
“I do.”
“You do not.”
“Goddammit Elaine, I want babies. Now let’s change the subject.”
“Another thing,” Elaine said, “is that you’re an intellectual.”
Benjamin yanked the sock off the doorknob and turned around. “Elaine?” he said.
“And I’m not.”
“Elaine?”
“You are an intellectual, Benjamin, and you should marry another intellectual.”
“Goddammit!” Benjamin said. He threw the sock down on the floor and hurried across the room to sit down again in the chair. “Now listen,” he said.
“You should marry someone who can discuss politics and history and art and—”
“Shut up!” He pointed to himself. “Now,” he said. “Have you ever heard me talking about those things? Once? Have you ever once heard me talking about that crap?”
“What crap.”
“History and art. Politics.”
“I thought you majored in that crap at college.”
“Will you answer my question!”
“What is it.”
“Have you ever heard me talking about it.”
“That crap.”
“Yes.”
“No I haven’t.”
“All right then.” He stood and shook his head. “Goddammit, I hate that,” he said. He picked up the sock from the floor and returned it to the doorknob. “Well,” he said. “Let’s have it. Will you marry me or not.”
Elaine shook her head.
Benjamin walked across the room and fell down on his back on the bed on a pair of pants and a shirt that were drying on the mattress. “Let’s have some more objections,” he said, staring up at the ceiling.
“What about my school.”
“What about it.”
“I want to finish,” she said.
“So who’s stopping you.”
“Well my father might not want to pay for it after we got married.”
“He won’t pay for it,” Benjamin said, getting up off the bed. “I’ll pay for it”
“With what,” she said. “The money from your car?”
“Look,” Benjamin said, sitting down on the chair beside hers. “Now we’ll get married tomorrow. Or the day after. As soon as I get the birth certificate. Then I’ll get a job teaching.”
“Where.”
“Right here, for God’s sake,” he said, pointing down at the floor. “Right here at the university.”
“You’ll just walk in and they’ll give you a job.”
“Sure. As a teaching assistant. I can work for a degree and be a teaching assistant at the same time.”
“How do you know you could get in here,” she said.
“I could get in this place in ten minutes.”
“I don’t think you could.”
“Well I know I could,” he said.
“How.”
“How do I know?” he said. “Because I’ve been admitted to Harvard and Yale graduate schools.” He leaned forward in his chair. “Elaine, I have had teaching offers from Eastern colleges. Eastern colleges. And you don’t think this place would grab me up in five minutes?”
“But I thought you didn’t want to be a teacher.”
“Why shouldn’t I.”
“Because you don’t have the right attitude,” she said. “Teachers are supposed to be inspired.”
Benjamin shook his head. “That’s a myth,” he said.
“Oh.”
He nodded. “So,” he said, taking her hand. “We’re getting married then.”
“But Benjamin?” she said.
“What.”
“I can’t see why I’m so attractive to you.”
“You just are.”
“But why.”
“You just are, I said. You’re reasonably intelligent. You’re striking looking.”
“Striking?”
“Sure.”
“My ears are too prominent to be striking looking.”
Benjamin frowned at her ears. “They’re all right,” he said.
“But Benjamin?”
“What.”
“There’s some things I don’t understand.”
“What things.”
“I mean you’re really a brilliant person.”
“Elaine, don’t start that,” he said. “I mean it.” She nodded.
“So,” Benjamin said. “We’re getting married. Aren’t we.”
“Well why don’t you just drag me off if you want to many me so much.”
“Why don’t I drag you off?” She nodded.
“All right, I will,” he said. “After we get the blood tests.” They sat looking at each other several more moments, then Benjamin nodded. “Well,” he said. “Blood tests in the morning. When do you want to go down.”
“Down where.”
“To the hospital,” he said. “Do you have a class at ten?”
“No.”
“Right,” Benjamin said. “I’ll be outside the dormitory at ten.”
“I’ll have to see Carl first,” Elaine said.
“What?”
“That boy you met at the zoo. Carl Smith.”
“Well what does he have to do with it.”
“I said I might marry him.”
“What?” Benjamin said, standing up.
“He asked me to marry him,” Elaine said. “I said I’d think about it.”
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“Well, Elaine.”
“What.”
“Why in the hell didn’t you tell me this.”
“Because it’s not your business.”
“It’s not my business, did you say?”
“That’s what I said.”
“Well for God’s sake, Elaine.” He sat down again. “How many people have done this.”
“Proposed to me?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t know,” she said.
“You mean more than him have?”
She nodded.
“How many.”
“I don’t know, Benjamin.”
“Well could you try and remember? Six? Seven?”
She nodded again.
“Are you joking me?”
“No I’m not joking you.”
“You mean you have actually had six or seven people ask you to marry them?”
“Benjamin,” she said, “I think this isn’t any of your business.”
“When did he do it.”
“What?”
“Carl. When did he ask you.”
“It was last time I saw him.”
“That day I met him? That day at the zoo?”
“Benjamin, why are you getting so excited.”
“How did he do it.”
“What?”
“Did he get down on his knees? He didn’t get down on his knees, I hope.”
“No, Benjamin.”
“Well what did he say. Did he just come out with it? ‘Will you marry me, Elaine?’ did he say?”
“What is wrong with you.”
“I’m curious.”
Frowning at him, she shook her head. “He said he thought we’d make a pretty good team.”
“Oh no,” Benjamin said. “What?”
“He said that?”
“Yes he said that.”
“We’d make a good team? He actually—”
“Good God, Benjamin. What is wrong with you.”
“So what is he,” Benjamin said. “A student?”
“A medical student.”
“What year.”
“His last.”
Benjamin nodded. “And where did he propose to you. In his car? At dinner?”
Elaine stood up. “This is none of your business,” she said. “Where did he propose.”
“In his apartment.”
“You went up to his apartment with him?”
“Yes Benjamin.”
“But you didn’t—I mean you didn’t—”
“No Benjamin. I didn’t spend the night.” Suddenly Benjamin began grinning. “So,” he said. “Old Carl took you up to the apartment and popped the big one, did he.”
“Goodbye, Benjamin.”
“Well, did he have music on? Did he—”
Elaine shook her head and walked across the room to the door. Benjamin followed her.
“Where are you going.”
“To study,” she said. She opened the door and started down the stairs.
“Are we getting married tomorrow?”
“No,” she said.
“The day after?”
She opened the front door of the rooming house. “I don’t know,” she said, walking outside. “Maybe we are and maybe we aren’t.” The door slammed shut behind her.
***
The following noon Benjamin ate lunch at the school cafeteria. Then he walked to Elaine’s dormitory and called up for her. She was not in her room. He waited awhile in the quadrangle and when she had not returned after nearly half an hour he walked slowly back to his room. Elaine was waiting for him. She was sitting very straight on the edge of the bed holding a letter in her lap.
“Elaine,” Benjamin said. “I was just—”
She held the letter out to him.
“Who’s this from,” he said.
“My father,” she said quietly.
Benjamin carried the letter to his desk and lowered himself down onto the chair. Then he removed two pieces of white stationery from the envelope and read.
Dear Elaine,
Your mother has told me of her relationship with Benjamin. I understand she also has informed you in hopes of keeping him away from you, but that he is now in Berkeley. I don’t know what the situation is up there. I don’t know if he is actively interfering with you or merely calling you up or what. In any case, however, I want you to promise me you will never see him again. I am sure you have no desire to see him but regardless of whatever trickery he employs I want to make certain you are having no contact with him. I don’t think it is necessary for me to point out that he is a thoroughly dishonest and disreputable individual. I think his conduct speaks pretty well for him by itself. As soon as possible I will take a day or two off and fly up. I’ll talk to him, then see you.
Your mother and I have not made any final arrangements yet but it is more than likely that we will call it quits. I see no reason to keep up the pretenses any longer in the light of what has happened. As I know you have noticed, we have grown apart from each other during the past years and this is perhaps the best time to make a clean break. I would never take this action, of course, if I did not know you were old and mature enough to withstand it. Please believe me when I say that you are the one thing in my life that matters to me and that I love you very deeply.
I have not told them yet, but feel it is my duty to inform Mr. and Mrs. Braddock of what has happened. They are good friends and wonderful people and it is a tragedy that their son is responsible for shaming and deceiving them after the devotion and care they have given him through the years. Mr. Braddock and I, of course, will have to terminate our partnership, which causes me great pain since ours has always been a particularly close and beneficial relationship.
I will see you soon. If Benjamin is being particularly offensive I suggest that you inform the campus authorities that he is interfering with your schoolwork and certainly they will take measures against him. If the problem is so extreme that you feel you cannot stay in school please call me immediately and I will be in Berkeley within an hour or two to deal with him. In any case, I look forward to seeing you before the end of the week.
Regards, Your father
When he had finished reading it, Benjamin’s eyes stayed a moment on the bottom of the second page, then he crumpled it and stuffed it into the side pocket of his coat.
“Let’s go,” he said. He walked to the bed and reached for Elaine’s hand. “What?”
“I said let’s go.”
“What?”
“We’re getting married now.“
She stared up at him from the edge of the bed. “Did you—did you read it?” she said.
“I read it,” Benjamin said. “Now let’s go.”
“And you have nothing to say?”
“I don’t like being called names,” Benjamin said. He reached again for her hand.
She pulled it away and rose slowly from the bed. “You don’t like being called names, did you say?”
“That’s right.”
“And that’s all you have to say, Benjamin?”
“Let’s go.”
“Benjamin,” she said. “My parents are getting divorced! Our fathers are dissolving their partnership!”
He reached for her hand.
“Do you—do you care just a little bit about what you’ve done?”
“No I don’t.”
“What?”
“We’re getting married now.”
Elaine pulled her hand away again and began slowly shaking her head. “Benjamin?” she said.
“What.”
“If you ever even so much as speak to me again I’m calling the police.” She turned and walked toward the door. Benjamin rushed in front of her.
“Get out of my way, Benjamin.”
“No.”
She turned around and walked across the room to the window. She opened it. Outside was a fire escape and a metal ladder leading down to the ground.
“Will you quit this!
” Benjamin said. He ran across the room and slammed the window shut. “Now listen, Elaine,” he said. “Listen to me.” He took her wrist. “Of course I care. How could I possibly not care. But Elaine, I love you. I love you, Elaine.”
“But you can stand there and say you don’t like to be called names?”
“Elaine, I’m sorry I said that. But I want us to get married. Nothing else matters.”
“My parents are getting divorced, Benjamin.” She returned slowly to seat herself on the bed. “My father,” she said.
Benjamin seated himself beside her. “Look,” he said. “This is a tragic thing in their lives. I realize that. I feel the responsibility for it. But what’s important is you and me, Elaine.”
“Not our parents?”
“Listen Elaine. He doesn’t—he doesn’t know what he’s talking about. He calls me—” He reached quickly into his pocket for the letter and opened it. “He calls me disreputable. Dishonest.”
“Well?”
“But I’m not, Elaine. Am I?”
“He’s my father, Benjamin.”
“That’s not the point.”
“It is the point.”
“The point is he doesn’t have a true picture of what’s happening. He thinks I’m evil.”
“Give me the letter.”
“I mean he’s your father, Elaine. But you should see—you should see that in this case he doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”
“He doesn’t want me to marry you, Benjamin.”
“All right. But that’s because—”
“It’s because you’ve hurt him.”
“I’ve hurt his pride,” Benjamin said. “Look. Your parents weren’t close in the first place. He says that. And I talked to your mother about it. She told me she never even loved him.”
“Give me the letter.”
“Wait a minute,” Benjamin said. “Now your mother—”
“Benjamin I don’t care what she told you. If you have so little compassion that—”
“I do have compassion, Elaine. But I’m trying to show you that your father has a deluded picture of me.”
“He knows that.”
“What?”
“He knows the things he said in the letter aren’t true.”
“Then why did he say them.”
“Benjamin, because you’ve hurt him. He doesn’t know what to do.”
“All right,” Benjamin said. “But you shouldn’t—”
“Can I have the letter?”
He handed her the letter. “I shouldn’t what,” she said, folding it and smoothing it where it had been crumpled.