Mr. Bridge_ A Novel - Evan S. Connell [118]
Mrs. Bridge sat quietly with her hands in her lap, an expectant smile on her face, but nothing happened.
High up in the huge auditorium Mr. Bridge observed this. He was so far from the floor that it was difficult to distinguish individuals, but when ninety-nine Eagle Scouts leaned over to kiss their mothers, and one did not, he recognized his son. He surmised that Douglas was embarrassed. It was not that Douglas did not love his mother, simply that he had reached an age where he was unable to kiss her in public. The only puzzling thing was why Douglas took the problem more seriously than other boys in the same situation. Mr. Bridge could not understand this. It annoyed him. However, he did not intend to talk to his son about it. What concerned him more was the effect on his wife. She had been hurt, he knew. She did not say anything about it after the Roundup while they were driving home, but he knew.
As they were getting ready for bed he said to her, “Let me make up for that,” and with no other word of explanation he put his arms around her. Then she began to cry, and she was still crying a little when at last she fell asleep in his arms.
129 Locking Up
Each night before going to bed he locked the downstairs windows and doors. Robberies in Mission Hills were rare, and a watchman patrolled the neighborhood; even so, there was always the possibility. Through the years he had tried to impress upon the children the necessity of locking up, because one day they would have homes of their own, yet he was not sure they had taken the lesson seriously. Perhaps Carolyn did. But he worried about Ruth and Douglas. Many times he had pointed out that it took only a few minutes to check the doors and windows. This was a small investment to make in return for security. They listened, but if he asked whether or not they agreed, they agreed with no enthusiasm as though they only wished to avoid a lecture or an argument. He worried particularly about Ruth because she was living alone in New York, and usually when he wrote to her he reminded her to bolt the door before going to bed. As for Douglas, the only thing to do was to remind him continually that carelessness could be costly; and since he was almost sixteen years old, old enough to assume more responsibility for the house, Mr. Bridge decided to turn the job over to him.
Douglas, being informed that henceforth he was responsible for locking up, instantly replied that he would forget.
Mr. Bridge responded that for this very reason the job was his, so he would learn never to forget.
Most unwillingly Douglas accepted the role. Every night he made the rounds protesting and complaining while Mr. Bridge followed him from window to window to door, examining each latch to make sure the job was properly done. After they had locked up like this for about three weeks Mr. Bridge felt he had been sufficiently trained, and quit following him. However, the knowledge that he himself had not checked everything afflicted him so that he did not sleep very well.
For a few nights he resisted the urge to get out of bed and find out if Douglas had done what he was supposed to do, but finally he could resist no longer; he lay awake until he thought Douglas would be asleep, then he got up, put on his slippers and robe, and walked through the house feeling the locks. And there came a night when he discovered an unlocked window in the breakfast room.
After snapping the lock shut and testing it he hurried into Douglas’ room and shook him awake. Attempting to control his anger he said: “I have told you at least one dozen times to make absolutely certain those breakfast room windows were locked. Somebody could get in there. You have not been paying attention. Somebody could have stolen your mother’s silver. How many times am I expected to tell you! I will not stand for this. I have worked many years