Caine Mutiny, The - Herman Wouk [120]
She continued, “Any man has a feeling of debt toward a decent girl with whom he has had an affair. Furthermore, he acquires a taste for her. All that is inevitable. The point is, any girl, with half a brain knows these things. And if she really wants a man, and feels that her chances are good, she’ll risk it. It’s the last throw of the dice.”
Willie’s cheeks became red, and he started to speak. His mother rode over him. “Willie dear, this is all a process, natural and inevitable. It’s happened a million times. Anybody can get caught up in it. Only remember, a marriage shouldn’t be based on a bad conscience, or a taste for a girl’s looks, but on similar background and values. If you get married out of a guilty feeling, very well, the guilty feeling passes-to a certain extent-but what else have you got? Now, honestly-do you think you love this girl-or do you feel obligated to her?”
“Both.”
“That means you feel obligated to her. Naturally you’re trying to tell yourself you love her, to make the marriage as palatable as possible. Willie, do you want this night-club singer to bear your children? Do you want the Italian fruit peddlers in the Bronx-I have no doubt they’re decent, good people-but do you want them for your in-laws, coming into your home whenever they choose, being the grandparents of your sons and daughters? Can you picture it?”
“How do I know I’ll ever do better? At least I want this girl. She’s the only one I’ve ever wanted.”
“Willie, you’re twenty-three. Your dad married at thirty. You’ll meet a thousand girls in the next six years.”
“You keep saying I want to marry her because I feel guilty. How do you know what I feel? I love her. She’s beautiful, she’s good-natured, she’s not stupid, I’m sure she’ll make a good wife, and if her background is crude, what of it? I think I’ll be sorry the rest of my life if I let her go-”
“Darling, I broke two engagements before I married your father. Each time, I thought the world had come to an end.”
“What do I need background in a wife for? If I ever come back from this blasted war, what will I be? A piano player-”
“There you’re wrong, and you know you are. Willie, you’re growing up fast. Does show business still appeal to you, really? Aren’t you beginning to realize that there’s more to you than fooling with a piano?”
It was a good blow. In the long watches on the Caine Willie had come nearer and nearer to the decision that at the piano he was an untalented dilettante. What he wanted after the war was a university career, at a quiet, noble school like Princeton, teaching literature, perhaps eventually (this his innermost dream, hardly confided even to himself) writing works of scholarship, or even a novel or two. “I don’t know what I’m going to do. It’s all so far in the future-”
“I know what you’re going to do. You’re going to be a distinguished scholar. And when I’m gone you’ll be wealthy, and independent, and you’ll move in the circle of educators and philosophers-Conant, Hutchins, people like that are your kind-and in the name of truth, Willie, does May fit into that picture? Could she be happy as a faculty wife? Do you see her pouring tea for Dean Wicks or chatting with Dr. Conant?”
He rose, went to the table, and fished the bottle out of the bucket. There was only half a glass of flat wine left. He poured it and drank it off.
“Willie dear, I’m telling you what your dad would have told you. God knows he would have been less crude and tactless. I’m sorry, but I’ve done my best. If I’m all wrong, just ignore me.”
She walked quickly