The Graduate (10 page)

“Will you come out and say hello to the Robinsons?”

“Sure. I’d like to.”

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Mrs. Robinson was standing with her back to the fireplace, wearing the same brown suit she had worn the first night Benjamin had met her at the hotel.

“Hi,” Benjamin said.

“How are you.”

“Fine thank you.”

“Looks like you’ve been in for a swim,” Mr. Robinson said, holding out his hand.

“Yes sir,” Benjamin said, shaking it. “This afternoon. I guess—I guess I haven’t gotten around to changing yet.”

“Well,” Mr. Robinson said. “Have a seat. I haven’t seen you for a while.”

Benjamin sat down on the sofa. Mr. Robinson sat beside him.

“What’re you up to.”

“Sir?”

“What’re you doing with yourself these days.”

“Oh,” Benjamin said. “Not too much. Taking it easy.”

Mr. Robinson nodded. “That’s what I’d do if I could,” he said. “Nothing wrong with that.”

“Yes sir. Thank you.”

“So what are your plans,” Mr. Robinson said.

“Indefinite,” Benjamin said.

“I guess you’ve pretty well given up this teaching idea you had.”

“Don’t speak too soon,” Mrs. Braddock said.

“What?”

“I still think Ben’s going to be a teacher someday.”

“I might at that,” Benjamin said. “I guess I can’t—I guess it’s pretty hard to say at this stage of the game.”

“Sure it is,” Mr. Robinson said. “You take it easy. How’s the girl situation.”

“What?”

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“Have you dug up any of those old girls you used to go to high school with?”

Benjamin shook his head, “I haven’t been doing much dating,” he said.

“Well what’s wrong with you.”

“What?”

“Come on,” Mr. Robinson said, winking at his mother. “You can’t tell me you don’t have somebody stashed away.”

“Oh no. No. No.”

“Where’s the old college spirit.”

“No. I mean I don’t—I don’t—”

“Excuse me,” Mrs. Robinson said. “I’ll find a glass of water.” She left the room.

“Ben, you go help her,” Mrs. Braddock said.

Benjamin stood up and hurried out to the kitchen with Mrs. Robinson.

“The glasses are up here,” she said. He reached up and handed her one.

“Benjamin?”

“Be quiet,” he said.

“Benjamin, I think you’d better go up to your room or something.”

Benjamin shook his head and walked quickly out of the kitchen and back into the living room. Mrs. Robinson filled her glass and followed him.

“Hey Ben,” Mr. Robinson said.

“Yes?”

“Come on back and sit down a minute.”

Benjamin returned to the sofa.

“Elaine’s coming down for a few days at Thanksgiving. I want you to call her up this time.”

“I will.”

“I mean it.”

“I know.” Benjamin said. “I know you do.”

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“Because I just think you two would hit it off real well together.”

Benjamin nodded. “When—I mean when does she get down,” he said.

“I’m not sure of the exact date,” Mr. Robinson said. “I’ll let your father know when I find out.”

For a long time it was quiet. Benjamin sat looking down at the rug.

Once he glanced up at his mother, who was sitting in her chair watching him, then he looked for a moment at his father’s shoes and quickly back at the rug in front of him. His mother cleared her throat.

Mr. Robinson moved slightly on the couch beside him. Then it was perfectly quiet again.

“What—what’s wrong,” Benjamin said.

“I know what I wanted to ask you,” Mrs. Robinson said, walking across the room. “Where did you find this lamp.”

Everyone turned to watch her bend over and look at a lamp on the table in the corner of the room.

“Where did that come from,” Mrs. Braddock said. “Wasn’t that given to us?”

Mr. Braddock nodded. “It was a gift,” he said. “We’ve had it for years.”

“I was looking for one this size last week,” she said. “But I don’t think they make them any more.”

“I’ll keep my eye open,” Mrs. Braddock said.

“Would you?”

“Surely.”

Mrs. Robinson smiled at her, then turned to her husband and raised her eyebrows. “We really should run,” she said.

Later in the evening Benjamin was standing in his room at the window when his mother opened the door and stepped inside. “Can I talk to you a minute?” she said.

“What? Sure.”

She closed the door behind her. “Benjamin?” she said. “Can I ask you what’s on your mind?”

He frowned at her.

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“There’s something on your mind,” she said. “Can you tell me what it is?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know,” he said.

“Is it something to do with the Robinsons?”

“What?”

“You seemed—you seemed awfully uncomfortable downstairs with the Robinsons.”

Benjamin nodded. “I was,” he said.

“Well is—is something wrong?”

He nodded again and walked to the window. “Mother,” he said,

“I feel guilty.”

“What?”

“I feel guilty sitting around home like this. I’m afraid your friends think I’m just a bum.”

“Oh no, Ben.”

“Well I get that feeling,” Benjamin said. “I got it the other night when the Terhunes were here. Then I got it tonight when the Robinsons came over.”

“Ben, they think the world of you.”

“They think I should be out working. They think I should be at school.”

“Oh no, Ben,” she said. She walked across the room to him and took his hand. He pulled it away and shook his head.

“I feel worthless, Mother. I feel rotten about what I’m doing.”

“You’ll get over this, Ben,” she said. “It’s just a stage you’re in. You’ll get over it.”

“Well I hope so.”

“You will,” she said. “So don’t worry about it. Our friends think you’re one of the finest people they know.”

Benjamin nodded. His mother turned around and walked back toward the door, then stopped. “Benjamin?”

“What.”

“I’m going to ask you something but you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want.”

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“What,” he said.

“Well I’m going to ask you what you do when you go off at night.”

“When I go off?”

She nodded.

Benjamin frowned down at the rug and began shaking his head.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want.”

“No, I do,” he said. “I want to tell you.”

It was quiet for several moments.

“I drive around,” he said.

“What else.”

“Nothing else.”

“Well you don’t drive around from midnight till noon the next day, Benjamin.”

“Oh no.”

“Then what do you do. Do you meet someone?”

“Meet someone?”

She nodded.

“Why did you say that.”

“Well this is your business, Benjamin,” she said, turning back toward the door. “If you—”

“No wait. Wait.”

She stopped.

“I don’t meet anyone, Mother, but why did you say that.”

She shook her head. “Because I can’t imagine what else you’d do.”

“But what do you mean by `meet someone.’“

“Let’s forget it.”

“No.”

“Benjamin, I’m not going to pry into your affairs,” she said, “but I’d rather you didn’t say anything at all than be dishonest.”

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“What?”

“Good night, Benjamin.”

“Well wait.”

She frowned at him.

“You think I’m being dishonest?”

She nodded.

“Well why do you—why do you think that.”

“Because I know you don’t drive around for twelve hours.”

“Oh,” Benjamin said. “Well I don’t. shall I tell you what I do?”

“Not if you don’t want.”

“I do.”

“But I don’t want you to make up something.”

“I’m not,” Benjamin said. “But I’m—I’m not very proud of what I do. I usually get kind of drunk. I usually drive over to Los Angeles and go to some bars and get kind of drunk. Then I take a hotel room. So I won’t have to drive home on the freeway. I mean it kind of scares me to drive home after—”

“Good night, Benjamin.”

“What?”

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Well Mother?”

“What.”

“You believe me, don’t you.”

“No.”

“You don’t?”

She shook her head.

“But I want you to,” he said. “Please. Please will you believe me!”

“Good night,” she said.

As soon as she had left the room Benjamin sat down at his desk and pulled out a sheet of stationery to write a letter to Mrs. Robinson.

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Dear Mrs. Robinson,

I cannot go on seeing you. It is ruining me and it is ruining my parents and I am a nervous wreck. My life is going quickly down the drain and right now at this moment I have got to do something. I don’t know what. I am in a complete tailspin. I am thoroughly despicable in everything I am doing with you. Please burn this letter as soon as you have read it.

I am going to teach. I will see if they might possibly give me the award back and if not I will either work my way through graduate school somehow or accept a position at one of the colleges that made offers while I was still at school. That is the only possible choice I have other than being a filthy degenerate all my life. I hope you will understand that this decision in no way reflects upon yourself insofar as your desirability etc. are concerned but I can’t live with myself any longer as I am. When you and your husband were here tonight it was all I could do to keep from screaming and running out of the room. I don’t know why I should feel that way because I do not think what we are doing is of much consequence but for some reason it is making a nervous wreck of me which is something I don’t particularly want to be the rest of my life.

The door of Benjamin’s room opened suddenly. His hand froze on the page.

“Ben?” his father said.

Benjamin looked quickly around the desk and then slid the stationery box over the letter and stood.

“Ben,” his father said, “Your mother tells me you’re a little worried about what our friends think of you.”

“Oh,” Benjamin said. “Well. I hate—I hate for them to think I’m just loafing around.”

“Well Ben, what’s happening is a problem. It’s a terribly serious problem. But don’t worry about our friends because they know you’re a wonderful person.”

Benjamin nodded. “Well I feel—I feel a little uncomfortable with them sometimes.”

“It’s Mrs. Robinson, isn’t it.”

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“What?”

“Mrs. Robinson makes you feel a little uncomfortable, doesn’t she.”

“Well no,” Benjamin said, suddenly shaking his head. “She’s—I mean I don’t—”

“Ben, I’ve known that woman for nearly twenty years and I still don’t know her.”

“What?”

“She’s a funny one, Ben.”

“Oh,” Benjamin said.

“There’s something about her that makes anybody feel uncomfortable.

I don’t know what. But don’t let it—don’t let it throw you.” Mr. Braddock folded his arms across his chest. “Ben,” he said, “I’m afraid they’re a pretty miserable couple.”

“They are?”

“I think so,” he said. “I think she gives him a pretty hard time. I’ve never spoken to him about it but I think he’s pretty disappointed with her.”

“Oh,” Benjamin said. He sat back down in the chair.

“You won’t let this go beyond you and me.”

“Oh no.”

“But she’s—she’s really not much of a person. She never says much. She never makes any effort socially or any other way.” He shook his head. “I’d be interested to know how they ever got together in the first place.”

“Well,” Benjamin said. “She’s—I think she’s fairly good looking.”

“She’s damn attractive,” his father said. He stood looking down at the rug a few moments. “But she’s not honest, Ben.”

“She’s not.”

“I don’t think so. I think she’s devious. I don’t think she was ever taught the difference between right and wrong the way you and I were.

It’s just a feeling I get about her. I couldn’t tell you why.” He looked up to smile. “So,” he said, “don’t let her throw you.”

“I won’t.”

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“What are you doing there.”

“What?”

“Writing a letter?”

“Oh yes. Yes I am. This boy I graduated with. We were going to keep in touch but we never did.”

“Good,” his father said, grinning at him. “Keep up the old contacts.

You never know when they’ll come in handy.” He turned and walked out the door.

Benjamin waited till he was downstairs, then closed the door and locked it. He returned to his desk and slid the stationery box off the letter and continued.

I don’t know if you were ever taught the difference between right and wrong or not, but since I was, I feel a certain obligation to it and cannot continue in as devious a fashion as I have been.

Since we never exactly lose ourselves in conversation I’m not sure how you feel about things but obviously what we are doing can only lead to some kind of disaster if we go on, so I feel, and I hope you do, that this is a good place to stop. Please don’t think I haven’t enjoyed having an affair with an “older woman” as I have not only enjoyed it but consider it a worth-while part of my general education. But it will be much better, I know, to remember it as it has been rather than as something it might become.

Best wishes,

Benjamin

“I got your note,” Mrs. Robinson said, several evenings later over their drinks in the Verandah Room.

“The note,” Benjamin said. “I’m afraid I got a little carried away there for a moment.”

“Devious?” she said.

“What?”

“Do you really think I’m devious?”

“I said I got carried away. Now let’s forget about it.”

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The affair continued on into the fall. At first Mrs. Robinson had sent Benjamin a note in the mail whenever she wanted to see him and he had met her in the Verandah Room the next evening near midnight.

During the first month the notes had arrived not more than once a week. Then they began to arrive more frequently and finally Benjamin asked her not to send them because his mother usually tookin the mail before he got up and had asked him several times who was sending them. Instead it was arranged that Benjamin would call Mrs. Robinson each afternoon and she would tell him over the phone if she could be at the hotel that night. One week he met her five nights in a row.