Caine Mutiny, The - Herman Wouk [121]
“So long as it isn’t you, Willie, I don’t care.”
Willie left her side and walked into the bedroom, where he paced between the twin beds and the dresser, noting even as his mind gyrated the spare neatness with which his mother had laid out her slippers and flowered silk night robe, and the silver toilet set he had given her for her fiftieth birthday.
His position was crumbling. It was true that he had proposed to May out of a guilt feeling; true that he suspected her of gambling for marriage by yielding to him; true that he was ashamed of her background; true that he couldn’t picture her as his partner in an academic life. He was not sure that he loved her. The night in Yosemite had clouded his feelings, and spread a murk of doubt and ill will over his whole tie to May. Was he a trapped fool, or an eager lover? There was no doubt whatever that he felt much more like a trapped fool. His self-respect gave way, and he was overcome with a wave of sickness. He saw in the mirror that he was wretchedly pale. “You pitiful jackass,” he murmured at the mirror, and went back to the sitting room. His mother stood where he had left her. “Look Mother, let’s not talk about it any more.” He dropped into an armchair and put a hand over his eyes. “Nothing’s going to be done tomorrow. Give me a chance to think.”
“Weren’t you planning to get married during this trip to the States, dear?”
“I don’t know, I don’t know. We hadn’t made definite plans. I told you she hadn’t even accepted me.”
“She’s very wise. Oh, Willie, wait at least until you come back again. It’s not fair to any girl to tie her up when you’re going back out into the war. Promise me you won’t get married this time. That’s all I ask, and believe me I ask it for your sake.”
“I believe you, Mother. I probably won’t. But I can’t tell you I’ll give her up, because I probably won’t do that, either.”
“I’m satisfied, darling.” She put her hand comfortingly on his shoulder, and walked into the bedroom. Her son remained wilted in the armchair. After a few moments she called to him, while she powdered her nose at the dressing table, “You know what I’d like to do, dear?”
“What?”
“I’d like to have a couple of stiff brandies, and then go see a very funny and silly movie. Do you know whether there’s one playing in town?”
“Sorry, Mother. I’m meeting May a little later.”
“Oh. Well,” she said cheerily, “have you time for a drink with me first?”
“Sure.”
“Where is May staying?”
“At a small hotel near the St. Francis.”
“Oh. Well, maybe you can drop me off at a movie on the way down.”
“Certainly, Mother.” Willie walked to the window, and leaned his forehead on the cool pane, without seeing anything. He had never felt more empty and sick. His mouth rested against the wooden frame of the window. Unthinking, he bit into the wood, made a deep print of teeth in it, and got a mouthful of cracked varnish and dust. He wiped his mouth with his handkerchief, and stared ruefully at the two rows of tooth marks in the wood.
“Well,” he thought, “some people carve hearts on trees.”
Next day he saw May off at the airport. Their parting kiss was passionate. Nothing was settled. He had lied to May about the talk with his mother. They were vaguely and informally engaged, but there was to be no ring, and no definite planning, until after the war. May seemed satisfied; at any rate she didn’t argue.
CHAPTER 18
Stilwell’s Leave
Suspend all work on Caine not thirty per cent or more complete. Cut overhaul period to three weeks. Caine under way for Pearl not later than 29 December.
Willie brought the despatch to Maryk in the temporary ship’s office in a warehouse near the drydock: one desk, actually, in a corner of a big, busy shipping room, where the new executive officer and Jellybelly spent most of the day transacting ship’s business