Caine Mutiny, The - Herman Wouk [221]
“Is it because I’m poor, or dumb, or Catholic, or what? Can’t you put it in words, so I’ll know?”
There is only one way to get off this particular kind of griddle. Willie looked at the floor and said nothing, while long seconds of silence ticked off. Every second brought another stab of hot shame and embarrassment, and his self-respect gushed out of the wounds. May managed to say at last, in an unembittered tone, though a shaky one, “Well, all right, Willie. It must be a load off your mind, anyway.” She opened a drawer in a peeling, dirty bureau, and took out a bottle and a pillbox. “I’m going down the hall to doctor myself. I won’t be long. Want to wait?”
“May-”
“Dear, don’t look so tragic. It’s not world-shaking. We’re both going to live.”
Willie, hardly aware of what he was doing, picked up Troilus and Cressida and read a couple of pages. He started guiltily when May came in, and put the book aside. Her eyes were red, and with her make-up removed, she was very pale. She smiled slightly. “Go right on reading, dear. Give me a cigarette though. I haven’t dared to smoke all day, thought my throat would close up.” She took an ashtray to the bed and lay back against the cushions with a sigh. “Ah, that tastes wonderful. Temperature, by the way, is down. Just a little over a hundred: Nothing like night-club air for what ails you. ... What are you going to do after the war, Willie? Going back to piano playing?„
“I don’t think so.”
“You shouldn’t. I think you should teach.”
“ ‘Those who can, do; those who can’t, teach’-eh?”
“The world couldn’t exist without teachers. It just seems right for you. I can see you in a university town, leading a nice quiet life, plugging Dickens faithfully as the years slip by-”
“Sounds heroic, doesn’t it?”
“Willie dear, everyone does what he can do best. You talked me into wanting to read. It was quite an achievement.”
“Well, I’ve thought of it, May. It would mean going back to school for a year-”
“Your mama will certainly see you through, won’t she? ... Especially now.” May yawned like an animal. “Sorry, dear-” Willie stood. “I don’t blame you for being bored with me-and you must be dead-”
“Oh, sit down. I’m not bored with you, and I’m not angry at you.” She yawned again, covered her mouth, and laughed. “Isn’t it silly? I ought to be wailing and tearing my hair. My energy must be all out. Willie, I’ve gotten pretty used to this idea, really. I had a little hope at San Francisco-at Yosemite, I mean-but not after you talked to your mother and sent me home. However, it’s done me no harm to have someone to be true to-”
“May-I know what Yosemite meant to you-to me-”
“Now, dear, I didn’t bring it up to torture your conscience. We both meant well. I was trying to trap you, I guess. I don’t know. I’ll have to take some psychology courses to figure myself out-”
“My mother doesn’t hate you, May-it isn’t her doing-”
“Willie sweetheart,” said May, with a little tired sharpness. “I know exactly, but exactly, how your mother feels about me. Stay off that ground.”
They talked some more, not much. She came to the door with him and kissed him affectionately. “You’re very, very good-looking, all the same,” she whispered.
“I’ll call you tomorrow, May. Keep well.” He rang for the elevator. She stood in the doorway, looking at him. When the elevator door was opened by a Negro in shirt sleeves, she suddenly said, “Will I see you any more?”
“Sure. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Good night.”
“Good-by, Willie.”
He did not call her the next day, nor the day after that, nor the day after that. He went to matinees with his mother, to dinner with his mother, to shows at night with his mother; he visited the family with his mother. When Mrs. Keith urged him to go out by himself he glumly declined. One afternoon he went to Columbia and took a solitary walk through Furnald Hall. The incessant salutes of baby-faced midshipmen in khaki at first flattered, then depressed him. Nothing had changed in the lobby. Here was the leather couch