The Graduate (2 page)

“Dad—”

“Do you appreciate that?”

“I’d appreciate it if I could be alone!”

His father shook his head. “I don’t know what’s got into you,” he said,

“but whatever it is I want you to snap out of it and march right on down there.”

Suddenly the door opened and Benjamin’s mother stepped into the room. “Aren’t you ready yet?” she said.

“No.”

“We’ll be right down,” his father said.

“Well what’s wrong,” she said, closing the door behind her.

“I am trying to think!”

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“Come on, Ben,” his father said. He took his arm and began leading him toward the door.

“Goddammit will you leave me alone!” Benjamin said. He pulled away and stood staring at him.

“Ben?” Mr. Braddock said quietly, staring back at him, “don’t you ever swear at your mother or me again.”

Benjamin shook his head. Then he walked between them and to the door. “I’m going for a walk,” he said. He stepped out into the hall and closed the door behind him.

He hurried to the head of the stairs and down but just as he had gotten to the front door and was about to turn the knob Mr. Terhune appeared out of the living room.

“Ben?” he said. “I want to shake your hand.”

Benjamin shook it.

“Goddammit I’m proud of you,” Mr. Terhune said, still holding his hand.

Benjamin nodded. “Thank you,” he said. “Now if you’ll excuse me I’m going for a walk. I’ll be back later.”

Mrs. Pearson appeared at the end of the hall. “Oh Benjmin,” she said, smiling at him. She hurried to where he was standing and reached up to pull his head down and kiss him. “Benjamin?” she said. “I’m just speechless.”

Benjamin nodded.

“Golly you did a fine job back there.”

“I’m sorry to seem rude,” Benjamin said, “but I’m trying to go on a walk right now.”

Mr. Robinson appeared at the end of the hall with a drink in his hand.

He began grinning when he saw Benjamin and walked into the group of people surrounding him to shake his hand. “Ben, how in hell are you,” he said. “You look swell.”

“I’m fine.”

“Say, that’s something out in the garage. That little Italian job your old man gave you for graduation?”

“Oh how exciting,” Mrs. Pearson said.

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“Let’s go for a spin,” Mr. Robinson said.

Benjamin reached into his pocket and pulled out the keys. “Can you work a foreign gearshift?” he said, holding them out.

“What?”

“Do you know how to operate a foreign gearshift.”

“Well sure,” Mr. Robinson said. “But I thought you’d take me for a little spin yourself.”

“I can’t right now,” Benjamin said. “Excuse me.” He reached for the doorknob and turned it, then pulled open the door. Just as he was about to step outside Mr. and Mrs. Carlson walked up onto the front porch.

“Well here he is himself,” Mrs. Carlson said. She wrapped her arms around Benjamin and hugged him. “Ben?” she said, patting one of his shoulders, “I hope you won’t be embarrassed if I tell you I’m just awfully proud to know you.”

“I won’t,” Benjamin said. “But I have some things on my mind at the moment and I’m—”

“Here’s something for you,” Mr. Carlson said. He handed Benjamin a bottle wrapped with a red ribbon. “I hope they taught you to hold your liquor back there.” He threw his arm around Benjamin’s shoulder and swept him back inside the house.

Benjamin ducked under his arm and set the bottle of liquor beside the door. “Look,” he said. “Could you please let me go for my walk!”

“What?”

“I’m sorry not to be more sociable,” Benjamin said. “I appreciate everybody coming over but—”

“Now Ben,” Mrs. Carlson said as her husband removed her coat, “I want you to tell me all about this prize you won. It was for teaching, wasn’t it?”

Benjamin grabbed the doorknob but before he could turn it his father appeared beside him and put his arm around him. “Let’s get you fixed up with a drink,” he said.

“Dad?”

“Come on, Ben,” his father said quietly. “You’re making kind of a scene here.”

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“Then let me out!”

“Here we go,” Mr. Braddock said. He began leading him away from the door.

“All right!” Benjamin said. he walked ahead of his father and into the living room, shaking his head.

“Well Benjamin,” a woman said.

Benjamin nodded.

“Aren’t you just thrilled to death?”

He walked on through the room, nodding at several more guests, and into the dining room where there was a tray of bottles on the dining-room table and a bucket of ice and some glasses. He selected one of the largest and poured it full of bourbon. Then he took several swallows, closed his eyes a moment and took several more. He refilled the glass to the top and turned around to see his mother standing in front of him.

“What’s that,” she said, frowning at the glass in his hand.

“This?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t know,” he said. “Maybe it’s a drink.”

His mother turned her frown up to his face. “Ben, what’s the trouble,”

she said.

“The trouble is I’m trying to get out of this house!”

“But what’s on your mind.”

“Different things, Mother.”

“Well, can’t you worry about them another time?”

“No,”

Mrs. Braddock reached for his drink. “Here,” she said, taking it, “Come out to the kitchen for a minute.”

Benjamin shook his head but followed her through the swinging door and into the kitchen. Mrs. Braddock walked to the sink and poured out most of the drink, then filled the glass with water. “Can’t you tell me what you’re worried about?” she said, drying off the glass with a dish towel beside the sink.

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“Mother, I’m worried about different things. I’m a little worried about my future.”

“About what you’re going to do?”

“That’s right.”

She handed him back the glass. “Well you still plan to teach don’t you,” she said.

“No.”

“You don’t?” she said, “Well what about your award.”

“I’m not taking it.”

“You’re not?”

“No.”

“Well Ben,” she said, “that doesn’t sound very wise, to pass up something you’ve spent four years working for.”

Mr. Terhune pushed into the kitchen carrying his drink. “I thought I saw you duck in here,” he said. “Now let’s have the lowdown on that prize of yours.”

“I’m not—”

“Tell him about it, Ben,” his mother said.

“It’s called the Frank Halpingham Education Award,”

Benjamin said. “It’s given by the college. It puts me through two years of graduate school if I decide to go into teaching.”

“Well now why did they pick you,” Mr. Terhune said. Benjamin didn’t answer.

“He did some practice teaching back there,” his mother said. “He’s been an assistant teacher for two years. Last term they let him take a junior seminar in American History.”

Mr. Terhune sipped at his drink. “Well, have you got in any graduate schools yet?” he said.

“Yes.”

“He’s in Harvard and Yale,” his mother said. “And what’s that other one?”

“Columbia.”

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Mr. Terhune sipped at his drink again. “It sounds like you’ve got things pretty well sewed up,” he said.

Benjamin turned and walked quickly across the room to the back door.

He opened it and walked out and to the edge of the swimming pool in the back yard. He stood staring down at the blue light rising up through the water for several moments before hearing the door open and bang shut behind him and someone walk across to where he was standing.

“Ben?” Mrs. McQuire said. “I think your yearbook is just unbelievable.”

Benjamin nodded.

“Was there anyone who got his picture in there more times than you did?”

“Abe Frankel did.”

Mrs. McQuire shook her head. “What a fantastic record you made for yourself.”

“Ben?” Mr. Calendar came out beside the pool and shook Benjamin’s hand. “Congratulations to you,” he said.

“Have you seen Ben’s yearbook?” Mrs. McQuire said.

“Why no.”

“Let’s see if I can remember all the different things,” she said. “Ben, you tell me if I miss any.” She cleared her throat and counted them off on her fingers as she talked, “Captain of the cross-country team. Head of the debating club. First in his class.”

“I wasn’t first.”

“Oh?”

“I tied Abe Frankel for first.”

“Oh,” she said. “Now let’s see what else. One of the editors of the school newspaper. Student teacher. I’m running out of fingers. Social chairman of his house. And that wonderful teaching award.”

“Could I ask you a question,” Benjamin said, turning suddenly toward her.

“Of course.”

“Why are you so impressed with all those things.”

“All the things you did?”

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“Excuse me,” Mr. Calendar said, holding up his glass. “I think I’ll find a refill.” He turned around and walked back into the house.

“Could you tell me that, Mrs. McQuire?”

She was frowning down into the bright blue water beside them.

“Well,” She said, “aren’t you awfully proud of yourself? Of all those things?”

“No.”

“What?” she said, looking up. “You’re not?”

“I want to know why you’re so impressed, Mrs. McQuire.”

“Well,” she said, shaking her head. “I’m afraid—I’m afraid I don’t quite see what you’re driving at.”

“You don’t know what I’m talking about, do you.”

“Well not exactly. No.”

“Then why do you—why do you—” He shook his head.

“Excuse, me,” he said. He turned around and walked back toward the house.

“Ben?” she called after him. “I’m afraid I haven’t been much help, but if it makes any difference I just want to say I’m thrilled to pieces by all your wonderful achievements and I couldn’t be prouder if you were my own son.”

Benjamin opened the door leading into the living room.

He walked through the room keeping his eyes ahead of him on the carpet until Mrs. Calendar took his elbow.

“Ben?” she said. “I just think it’s too terrific for words.” He walked past her and into the hall. Just as he got to the foot of the stairs his father came up behind him.

“Leave me alone.”

“Ben, for God’s sake what it is.”

“I don’t know what is it.”

“Come here,” Mr. Braddock said. He took his arm and led him down the hall and into a bedroom. “Son?” he said, closing the door and locking it. “Now what is it.”

“I don’t know.”

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15

“Well something seems pretty wrong.”

“Something is.”

“Well what.”

“I don’t know!” Benjamin said, “But everything—everything is grotesque all of sudden.”

“Grotesque?”

“Those people in there are grotesque. You’re grotesque.”

“Ben.”

“I’m grotesque. This house is grotesque. It’s just this feeling I have all of a sudden. And I don’t know why!”

“Ben, it’s because you’re all tied up in knots.”

Benjamin shook his head.

“Now I want you to relax.”

“I can’t seem to.”

“Ben, you’ve just had four of the most strenuous years of your life back there.”

“They were nothing,” Benjamin said.

“What?”

“The whole four years,” he said, looking up at his father. “They were nothing. All the things I did are nothing. All the distinctions. The things I learned. All of a sudden none of it seems to be worth anything to me.”

His father was frowning. “Why do you say that.”

“I don’t know,” Benjamin said. He walked across the room to the door.

“But I’ve got to be alone. I’ve got to think until I know what’s been happening to me.”

“Ben?”

“Dad, I’ve got to figure this thing out before I go crazy,” he said, unlocking the door. “I’m not just joking around either.” He stepped back out into the hall.

“Ben?” Mr. Robinson said, holding out his hand. “I’ve got a client waiting for me over in Los Angeles.”

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Benjamin nodded and shook his hand.

“Real proud of you boy,” Mr. Robinson said, Benjamin waited till he had gone out the door, then turned around and walked upstairs and into his room. He closed the door behindhim and sat down at his desk. For a long time he sat looking down at the rug, then he got up and walked to the window. He was staring out at a light over the street when the door opened and Mrs. Robinson stepped inside, carrying a drink and her purse.

“Oh,” she said. “I guess this isn’t the bathroom is it.”

“It’s down the hall,” Benjamin said.

She nodded but instead of leaving the room stood in the doorway looking at him.

“It’s right at the end of the hall,” Benjamin said.

Mrs. Robinson was wearing a shiny green dress cut very low across her chest, and over one of her breasts was a large gold pin.

“Don’t I get to kiss the graduate?” she said.

“What?”

She smiled at him.

“Mrs. Robinson,” Benjamin said, shaking his head. “T’m kind of distraught at the moment. Now I’m sorry to be rude but I have some things on my mind.”

She walked across the room to where he was standing and kissed one of his cheeks.

“It’s good to see you,” Benjamin said. “The bathroom’s at the end of the hall.”

Mrs. Robinson stook looking at him a moment longer, then turned around and walked to his bed. She seated herself on the edge of it and sipped at her drink. “How are you,” she said.

“Look,” Benjamin said, “I’m sorry not to be more congenial but I’m trying to think.”

Mrs. Robinson had set her glass down on the rug. She reached into her purse for a package of cigarettes and held it out to Benjamin.

“No.”

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She took one for herself.

“Is there an ash tray in here?”

“No.”

“Oh,” she said, “I forgot. The track star doesn’t smoke.” She blew out her match and set it down on the bedspread.

Benjamin walked to his desk for a wastebasket and carried it to the bed. He picked up the match and dropped it in.

“Thank you.”