Caine Mutiny, The - Herman Wouk [17]
He walked up the avenue of maples to the front door and entered upon a prepared triumph. His mother hugged him. Relatives and neighbors, flourishing cocktails, greeted the war hero. The best china and the best silver were set out on the dining-room table, reflecting yellow beams from flaming logs in the marble-paneled fireplace. “All right, Martina,” cried Mrs. Keith, “put on the steaks! ... We have a feast for you, Willie. Everything you love-oysters, onion soup, steak-double sirloin for you, dear-with soufflé potatoes, and Bavarian cream. You’re starved, aren’t you?”
“I could eat a horse, Mom,” said Willie. There are heroisms in small acts. Willie sat down to his dinner, and ate.
“I thought you’d be hungrier,” said his mother, watching him poke without enthusiasm at the steak.
“I’m enjoying it too much to rush it,” answered Willie. He downed the steak. But when the Bavarian cream was set before him, rich, brown, and trembling, nature rebelled. Willie grew pale, turned away, and quickly lit a cigarette. “Mom, I’m through.”
“Come, you don’t have to be bashful, dear. We all know how sailors eat. Finish up.”
Willie’s father had been watching him quietly. “Maybe you had a little something before coming home, Willie.”
“Just a snack, Dad, to keep me going.”
Mrs. Keith permitted him to stagger off to the living room, where another fire crackled. Here the midshipman wheezily held court, describing the secrets of the Navy and analyzing the conduct of the war in all theaters. He hadn’t read a newspaper in three weeks, so it was not easy to do; but he improvised, and his words were eagerly listened to.
Willie noticed for the first time when the party went into the living room that his father limped and walked with a cane. After a while Dr. Keith interrupted the question session. “Time out,” he said, “while a man has a few words in private with his sailor son.” He took Willie by the arm and led him into the library, a mahogany-paneled room full of leather-bound collected editions of standard authors and motley best sellers of twenty years. The windows looked out on the garden behind the house, where patches of old snow lay in shady corners of the brown empty flower beds. “How is it, really, Willie-the Navy?” Dr. Keith said, closing the door, and leaning on his cane.
“Fine, Dad. I’ll get by. What’s the matter with your leg?”
“Nothing much. Infected toe.”
“I’m sorry. Bother you much?”
“Some.”
Willie glanced at his father in surprise. It was the first time he had heard his father complain of an ailment. “Well-what can I say to a doctor? You’ve had it looked at?”
“Oh, yes. Nothing to be done. It will simply take time.” Father and son looked into each other’s eyes for a moment. “I shouldn’t keep you from the company,” said the doctor, limping toward the window. “But we’ve really never talked much, have we? I’m afraid I’ve let your mother do all the upbringing. And now you’re off to the wars.”
Willie did not know what to answer. It seemed that his father wanted to say something but could not find a way to begin.
“I never got overseas myself, Willie, in the first war. Maybe you’ll he lucky, too.”
“I’ll take what comes,” said Willie. “The Navy’s spending a lot of time and work on me. Maybe I ought to go overseas if I’m good enough for it.”
Dr. Keith ran his fingers across his small black mustache. His eyes searched Willie’s face. “You’re changing a little. What’s doing it? The Navy?”
“I’m afraid I’m the same poor lug.”
“Do you get a chance to play the piano?”
“Forgetting what one looks like.”
“Willie,” said his father, “have you met a girl?”
Willie was too startled to lie. “Yes, sir.”
“A good girl?”
“In her way, wonderful.”
“Do you want to marry her?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Well-it’s not that kind of thing.”
“Don’t be too sure. Bring her out here to meet us.”
A picture