Mr. Bridge_ A Novel - Evan S. Connell [114]
“Yuk.”
“I realize you didn’t come here for a lecture, but the fact remains that having lived a good deal longer than you I have learned a few things that you have not.”
“Oy, oy, would you let me play if I weighed two hundred and fifty pounds?”
“When you grow to that size we’ll discuss the matter again. Now is anything else on your mind? If so, I’ll be glad to talk about it with you, but I have no time to discuss football.”
Douglas waved the sheet of paper. He said with as much sarcasm as possible, “I might as well toss this in the wastebasket.”
“As you like.”
Football was not mentioned again for almost a month. Then an item appeared on the sports page of the Star about a boy in Ohio who died of a broken neck after a school football game. Mr. Bridge pointed to the article.
“Have you read this?”
“Oh, yuk,” Douglas said wearily. “Do you always need to prove you’re right?”
124 Square Peg
Both of his sisters had pledged a sorority soon after entering high school, yet Douglas, for reasons his parents could not understand, refused to join a fraternity. They knew he had been invited by at least three fraternities, but the weeks were going by and he appeared totally unconcerned. Once he remarked that a group of Sigma Deltas had stopped him on the way to Civics and told him they wanted to have a talk, but that was all he said. His parents decided not to press him, and so the wait continued. He seemed unaware that they were waiting, and apparently he did not care that his two closest friends Tipton and Vandermeer had joined a fraternity.
By the end of November it was advisable to investigate this matter. One evening while the three of them were in the living room his mother inquired as casually as possible whether he was still trying to make up his mind which fraternity to join. Without looking up from his book he answered that he had not thought about it. She said, after a respectful pause, that she believed most of his friends already had joined a fraternity. He went on reading.
Then Mr. Bridge, who had been listening carefully, asked if he still saw as much of Tipton and Vandermeer as he used to. Douglas turned a page, and shrugged.
“Old friends are best,” his mother observed.
He nodded, and went on reading.
Mr. Bridge concluded the time had come to bring this problem to the surface. “Are you going to accept one of those invitations, or not?”
“I doubt it,” he murmured without raising his eyes.
“May I ask why not?”
“Why should I?” he countered, still reading.
“Because these contacts will prove valuable in later life.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” Douglas answered in a flat voice, but with no animosity.
“Well, then,” said his mother, laughing, “won’t you let us know what you’ve made up your mind to do?”
“Is there any huge rush?” he asked.
“We would like to know why you object to joining a fraternity,” his father said.
Douglas hung the book on his knees, hunched his shoulders, and spread his hands. “So who’s objecting? Who’s got objections? Tipton wants to join a frat, it’s his business. It’s okay with me. The same goes for Vandermeer. What’s it to me?”
“These boys who have invited you to join their organizations have gone out of their way to be nice to you. You should remember they have been under no compulsion to invite you.”
“I imagine any number of boys would snap at the chance,” Mrs. Bridge added.
“One day these boys are going to be stockbrokers, insurance agents, physicians, corporate executives, and so forth. It will pay you to know them. It’s time you recognized the fact that in this world nobody, no matter how independent—and this goes for me as well—succeeds altogether by his own efforts. We need to help each other. Just as I assist certain people, so they assist me.”
“Who’s arguing?”
“They seem to be awfully nice boys, and I’m sure they must think quite a lot of you if they’ve invited you to join. Isn’t Paul Battenhurst a member of Sigma Delta?”
Douglas nodded.
“Well, then. You don’t want people to think you’re a misfit, do you?”
“I don’t mind. Who