The Graduate (6 page)

“No.”

“Then what.”

“I’m hitchhiking.”

“What?”

“Mother, you haven’t been on the road much, have you.”

Mrs. Braddock began shaking her head.

“Don’t get excited, Mother. I’ll be all right.”

“You mean you’re just going to pack your bag and go?”

“I’m not taking any luggage.”

“What?”

“I’m not taking what I have on.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yes.”

“Well how much money are you taking.”

“Ten dollars.”

“Oh,” she said. “Then you won’t be gone more than a day or two.”

Benjamin raised a section of grapefruit to his mouth.

“How long will you be gone,” his mother said.

“I don’t know.”

“More than a day or two?”

“Yes.”

“But not more than a week.”

“Look,” Benjamin said. “Maybe five years, maybe ten. I don’t know.”

“What?”

Mr. Braddock came into the kitchen carrying the morning newspaper.

“You’re up early,” he said.

“Ben, tell your father. Because I know he won’t let you do it.”

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“What’s up,” Mr. Braddock said, sitting down at the table.

“I’m going on a trip.”

“He’s not taking the sports car. He’s not taking any clothes.

He has ten dollars in his pocket and he’s—”

“Excuse me,” Benjamin said. He reached for a bowl of sugar in the center of the table.

“What’s all this about?” Mr. Braddock said.

“I’m leaving after breakfast on a trip,” Benjamin said, sprinkiling sugar on his grapefruit. “I have no idea where I’m going.

Maybe just around the country or the continent. Maybe if I can get papers I’ll work around the world. So that’s that.”

“Well what’s the point of it.”

“The point is I’m getting the hell out of here.”

Mr. Braddock frowned at him. “This doesn’t sound too well thought out,” he said.

Benjamin raised a sugared section of grapefruit to his mouth.

“You just plan to work around? Bum around?”

“That’s right.”

“Meet all kinds of interesting people I suppose.”

“That’s right.”

“Well Ben,” his father said. “I don’t see anything wrong with taking a little trip. But this is the wrong way to go about it.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Listen,” his father said. “How’s this for an idea.”

“I don’t like it.”

“How’s this for an idea, Ben. Spend the summer picking out a graduate school in the East, then throw your things in the car and take a week or two driving back.”

“No.”

“What’s wrong with that.”

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“Because I’m finished with schools, Dad.” A section of grapefruit fell off his spoon and onto the table. “I never want to see another school again. I never want to see another educated person again in my life.”

“Come on, Ben.”

“Come on!” Benjamin said, standing up. “Now I have wasted twenty-one years of my life. As of yesterday. And that is a hell of a lot to waste.”

“Sit down.”

“Dad,” Benjamin said, “for twenty-one years I have been shuffling back and forth between classrooms and libraries. Now you tell me what the hell it’s got me.”

“A damn fine education.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“No.”

“You call me educated?”

“I do.”

“Well I don’t,” Benjamin said, sitting down again. “Because if that’s what it means to be educated then the hell with it.”

“Ben?” his mother said. “What are you talking about.”

“I am trying to tell you,” Benjamin said, “I’m trying to tell you that I am through with all this.”

“All what.”

“All this!” he said, holding his arms out beside him. “I don’t know what it is but I’m sick of it. I want something else.”

“What do you want.”

“I don’t know.”

“Well look, Ben.”

“Do you know what I want,” Benjamin said, tapping his finger against the table.

“What.”

“Simple people. I want simple honest people that can’t even read or write their own name. I want to spend the rest of my life with these people.”

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“Ben.”

“Farmers,” Benjamin said. “Truck drivers. Ordinary people who don’t have big houses. Who don’t have swimming pools.”

“Ben, you’re getting carried away.”

“I’m not.”

“Ben, you have a romantic idea of this.”

“Real people, Dad. If you want the cliché, I am going out to spend the rest of my life with the real people of this world.”

“Aren’t we real?” Mrs. Braddock said.

“It’s trite to talk about it,” Benjamin said. “I know how I feel.”

They finished breakfast quietly. When it was over, Mr. Braddock pulled a checkbook out of his pocket and began making out a check.

“Dad, look.”

“I want you to take this,” he said.

“I don’t want it.”

He signed it and tore it out of the book. “Here,” he said.

“No.”

“Take it.”

“I won’t.”

Mr. Braddock reached over to stuff it in the pocket of Benjamin’s coat. Benjamin removed it, read the amount, then returned it to his pocket.

“Cash it if you have to,” his father said.

“I won’t have to.”

“All right. But Ben?”

“What.”

“I don’t know how long this is going to last. I have a feeling you’ll be back here before you think you will.”

“I won’t.”

“But if you feel you have to get out and rub elbows with the real people for a while, then...”

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Benjamin stood. “Goodbye,” he said, holding out his hand.

His father shook it. “Call collect if you get into any kind of trouble.”

“Ben?” Mrs. Braddock said. “Do you think you might be back by Saturday?”

“Mother.”

“Because I invited the Robinsons over for dinner. It would be so much more fun if you were here.”

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The trip lasted just less than three weeks. It was late one night when Benjamin returned and both his parents were asleep. He tried the front door and found it locked. Then he tried the kitchen door at the side of the house and the door at the rear but both were locked. He attempted opening several windows but most of them were covered with screens and the ones without screens were locked. Finally he walked back around to the front porch and banged on the door until a light was turned on in his parents’ bedroom. He waited till the light was turned on in the front hall. Then his father, wearing a bathrobe, pulled open the door.

“Ben,” he said.

Benjamin walked past him and into the house.

“Well you’re back.”

“I’m back,” Benjamin said. He walked to the foot of the stairs.

“Hey,” Mr. Braddock said, grinning at him, “It looks like you’ve got a little beard started there.”

“It comes off tomorrow.”

“Well,” his father said. “How are you.”

“Tired.”

“You’re all tired out.”

“That’s right.”

“So how was the trip.”

“Not too great,” Benjamin said. He began slowly climbing up the stairs.

“Well Ben?”

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Benjamin stopped and let his head sag down between his shoulders.

“Dad,” he said, “I’m so tired I can’t think.”

“Well can’t you tell me where you went?”

Benjamin knelt down on the stairs, then lay down on his side. “North,”

he said, closing his eyes.

“How far north.”

“I don’t know. Redding. One of those towns.”

“Well that’s where the big fire is,” his father said. “You must have seen it.”

Mrs. Braddock, wearing her bathrobe and pushing some hair out of her face, appeared at the foot of the stairs. “Ben?” she said. “Is that you?”

“Hello Mother,” he said without opening his eyes.

“Are you all right?”

“Yes.”

“Well how was the trip.”

“Mother, I have never been this tired in all my life.”

“He got up to Redding, he thinks,” Mr. Braddock said. “One of those towns up there.”

“Dad, I haven’t slept in several days. I haven’t eaten since yesterday and I’m about to drop over.”

“You haven’t eaten?” his mother said.

“No.”

“I’ll fix you something right away.”

“Look,” Benjamin said, raising his head up off the stair. “I’m so tired I can’t even...”

Mrs. Braddock had already hurried out of the front hall and toward the kitchen.

“Come on in the living room a minute,” Mr. Braddock said. “You’ll get to bed right after a little food.”

Benjamin slid back down the stairs, stood and followed his father slowly into the living room. He dropped down onto the sofa.

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“Well now,” Mr. Braddock said. “Let’s have the report.”

Benjamin’s head fell back and he closed his eyes again.

“What about money. Did you cash my check?”

“No.”

“Well what happened. Did you get some work?”

“Yes.”

“What kind of work was it.”

“Dad?”

“Come on, Ben,” he said. “I’m interested in this.”

Benjamin took a deep breath. “I fought a fire,” he said.

“That big fire up there?” his father said. “You fought it?”

“That’s right.”

“Well that’s right up there by Shasta. You must have been right up there in the Shasta country. That’s beautiful country.”

Benjamin nodded.

“How did they pay you on a deal like that,” his father said.

“Five an hour.”

“Five dollars an hour?”

“That’s right.”

“They give you the equipment and you go in and try to put out the flames.”

Benjamin nodded.

“Well what about the Indians. I was reading they transported some Indians up there from a tribe in Arizona. Professional fire fighters. Did you see some of them?”

“I saw some Indians. Yes.”

Mr. Braddock shook his head. “That is real exciting.” he said. “What else happened.”

Benjamin didn’t answer.

“You didn’t have any trouble getting rides.”

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“No.”

“Well tell me where you stayed.”

“Hotels.”

Mr. Braddock nodded. “Maybe this trip wasn’t such a bad idea after all,” he said. “Did you have any other jobs besides the fire?”

“Yes.”

“Well what were they.”

“Dad, I washed dishes. I cleaned along the road. Now I am so tired I am going to be sick.”

“Talk to a lot of interesting people, did you?”

“No.”

“You didn’t?”

“Dad, I talked to a lot of people. None of them were particularly interesting.”

“Oh,” his father said. “Did you talk to some of the Indians?”

“Yes Dad.”

“They speak English, do they?”

“They try.”

“Well what else did you—”

“Dad, the trip was a waste of time and I’d rather not talk about it.”

“Oh?” his father said. “Why do you say that.”

“It was a bore.”

“Well it doesn’t sound too boring if you were up there throwing water on that fire.”

“It was a boring fire.”

It was quiet for a few moments. “Can’t you tell me a little more about it?”

“Dad—”

“Let’s hear about some of the people you bumped into.”

“You want to?”

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“Sure,” his father said. “What kind of people stopped to give you rides.”

“Queers.”

“What?”

“Queers usually stopped,” he said. “I averaged about five queers a day. One queer I had to slug in the face and jump out of his car.”

“Homosexuals?”

“Have you ever seen a queer Indian, Dad?”

“What?”

“Have you ever had a queer Indian approach you while you’re trying to keep your clothes from burning up?”

Mr. Braddock sat frowning at him from the chair. “Did that happen?”

he said.

“Dad, for what it was worth I did the whole tour. I talked to farmers. I talked to—”

“What would you talk to them about.”

“The farmers?”

“Yes.”

“Their crops. What else do they know how to talk about.”

“Who else did you talk to.”