The Rebellion of Yale Marratt (71 page)

 

 

"I've done exactly what I wanted to do," Yale said happily. "I ran three
hundred thousand up to three million with enough extra to pay commissions
to Higgins. Why play the gamble too hard? I think the market is a little
out of line with the facts. The debentures will break any day, now. They
should level at about one hundred."

 

 

A few days later the market on the debentures floundered. They fell to one
hundred and fifteen. Sam proudly introduced Yale to his father. "This is
the bird I've been telling you about. We roomed together at 'B' school."

 

 

"You made a nice killing," the elder Higgins, a slender grey-haired man
in his sixties, said to Yale. "Was it a lucky accident or can you do
it again?"

 

 

"I'll do it again," Yale said, smiling confidently. "Maybe not so easily
next time. The secret is to study and wait. . . ."

 

 

"Wait for what?" the elder Higgins asked.

 

 

"A slight tingling sensation in my backbone," Yale said. They couldn't
tell whether he meant it or not.

 

 

"You better give Sam some instructions. . . ." the elder Higgins said
gruffly. "He's been tingling in the wrong places."

 

 

 

 

Despite insistent pleading during his nightly telephone calls to Midhaven,
Yale had been unable to persuade Cynthia to come to New York. Until Cynthia
would come, he knew that he couldn't ask Anne to make another weekend visit.
Both of them had asked him pointedly on the telephone what he was afraid of.
They told him, laughing at his obvious silence, that he couldn't ask for
more. He had a home with two women in it.

 

 

"It's only a two-hour train ride. If you must work in New York, you can
commute weekends," Anne said. "And you can come home and try heating water
on a coal stove to take a bath."

 

 

Cynthia said, "Anne and I are just waiting to get you into this tin tub
that Ralph dug up for us."

 

 

They told him that he was living in splendor while he forced them to
live in the backwoods. With grim humor they described the pleasures of
sitting in the outhouse on a cold March night.

 

 

Yale knew that they were forcing him to a showdown. If there was any
possible way to live with two women he was going to have to prove it, not
piecemeal in New York hotel rooms, but together in Midhaven. After his
success with the Wilshire Trust debentures, he decided that he couldn't
wait any longer. It was imperative that some decision be made. Either
they would all stay together and make Challenge, Inc. a reality, or else
Yale hated to contemplate . . . the "or else." Having Anne and Cynthia
had seemed to fuse the divergent coils of his energy. For the first time
in his life he was driven with ambition. The goal, tenuous as Challenge
still was in his mind, seemed worthy of every effort. But not alone. Not
without Anne and Cynthia.

 

 

Riding from New York on the six forty-five to Midhaven, he wondered why
the female element, the demand for female acceptance, was so important
to him. The current of his thinking didn't seem to function unless
it was connected to the female pole. Some men might look upon it as a
denial of their own masculinity. Many men, basically, resented women.
He remembered once, in college, writing a thesis for a psychology course
in which he analyzed the handling of female characters by twenty top
male authors. Not one of these authors had been able to develop the
male-female relationship without a strong element of sadism, and a basic
revulsion toward the female.

 

 

Yale wondered if the male rejection of his fundamental affinity with the
female was a natural reaction, or a learned reaction. First taught by the
ancient medicine men in their taboo system, and calcified into an accepted
pattern of behavior by the age-old brainwashing of religious theories.

 

 

When Yale got off the train he saw them waiting, far back on the platform.
With a grin that belied his basic uneasiness he grabbed them both around
the waist and gave them each a peck on the cheek. As he walked between
them, listening to their happy chatter, he was glad that he had come.
In the next few days, he reflected with amusement, he must find the
solution to the problem of how one man and two women could adjust
sexually to each other. The Mohammedan with his harem didn't have the
same problem. He simply had uncomplaining slave vessels into which he
could discharge his desires as he saw fit. Yale had two young, physically
attractive, American girls whose entire lives up to this time had been
conditioned to the sacredness of monogamous marriage. Both of them had
been brought up in a society in which it was considered impossible for
a man to love more than one woman, especially in a condition of marriage.

 

 

Both Anne and Cynthia seemed unusually happy. Their talk was filled with
warm laughter. They told him that Ralph Weeks was minding Ricky. "Imagine
a sixty-five-year-old baby sitter, smoking a cigar and rocking a crib!"

 

 

"Wait until you see the plans for remodeling the house," Anne said. "It's
going to be a mansion. Bob Coleman is a wonderful architect."

 

 

"Handsome -- and single, too!" Cynthia said, enjoying the idea of teasing
Yale a little. "You should have seen him the first few days when he
was measuring the rooms; consulting first with me and then with Anne
as to where we wanted bathrooms and trying to figure out the bedroom
arrangements. You could see that he was quite bewildered. He was even
more confused when Anne and I were discussing how we wanted one master
bedroom with a huge bathroom and another bedroom with a smaller bathroom
leading directly off it. Bob finally just about asked Anne what business
it was of hers. Anne told him that we were very close. She said that
she was my sister-in-law, Mrs. Anne Marratt, from Ohio."

 

 

"And you know what he said?" Anne asked, giggling. "He said he didn't
realize that Yale had a brother. You should have seen our faces. We both
looked at him with our mouths open. Cindar recovered first, and said,
'Oh, it's his father's brother's son.'"

 

 

"Ye gods, that would make you cousins." Yale laughed.

 

 

"We figured that out later," Cynthia said. "Anyway he has stopped asking
us. But you'll see when he comes over. He is still plenty puzzled. He's
coming out tomorrow or the next day to go over costs with you."

 

 

Yale asked what Coleman had guessed the remodeling would cost.

 

 

"He was cautious. Not less than forty thousand dollars. He said the house
would be worth double that when he finished. Do you think it's too much,
Yale?" Cynthia asked.

 

 

Anne said, "Cindar and I haven't been very practical, but if you don't
think we should spend so much, we won't mind . . . just as long as we
have at least one toilet that flushes water."

 

 

When they got to the car, Anne stood aside. She let Cynthia slide into
the middle of the front seat. Yale got behind the wheel, wondering how
they had figured out the seating arrangement.

 

 

"Don't worry about the money. As soon as the house is remodeled, I'm
going to re-mortgage it to Challenge, Inc. That will free the money for
another project I have in mind."

 

 

Yale drove to the "Hare and Hounds," a heavily patronized eating place
decorated after an American's idea of an English country manor. Because
the restaurant was new and specialized in expensive dinners, he knew
that there was a chance that Pat and Liz would be there. Some day, they
would have to see him with Cynthia and Anne. If it happened tonight so
much the better.

 

 

"I'll buy you both a lobster. While we're eating I'll tell you what has
developed with Challenge."

 

 

Cynthia and Anne sat opposite him in a candle-lighted booth. Yale admired
the clean lines of their faces, and the soft glow in their eyes. Anne
light complexioned, with her natural blonde hair piled carelessly on
her head, and Cynthia with dark black hair flowing to the top of her
shoulders. As the hostess guided them past other tables to their booth,
Yale caught the stares and half-envious glances of other diners. In their
strikingly contrasting beauty Anne and Cynthia seemed to complement
each other. Even the maternity dress that Cynthia was wearing didn't
dampen male interest. Men felt the natural beauty of both the girls
with a sharp impact. Beauty that said without words: "We are happy,
proud women who love our man with a fierce passion."

 

 

Over manhattans, Yale told them of his success with the Wilshire Trust
debentures. Their faces showed amazement.

 

 

"You mean in just two weeks, you have made three million dollars?" Cynthia
asked, disbelief in her voice.

 

 

"Well, not quite. I started with three hundred thousand dollars on the
rupee conversion." Yale explained his maneuver, enjoying their swift
comprehension.

 

 

"Weren't you nervous that you might have guessed wrong?" Anne asked.
"I'd have been so terrified that the market would drop, I'd have sold
everything after the debentures had gone up just a little."

 

 

Yale grinned. He played with the silverware. "I was cautious, I held back
fifty thousand in case anything went wrong. It's funny . . . knowing that
you and Cynthia were in Midhaven, caring . . ." Yale blushed. "May I say
loving me . . . ?"

 

 

Cynthia looked at Anne. They smiled sheepishly at each other. "Well,
anyway," Yale continued unabashed, "I seemed to have a sixth sense born
of love. It's as if something is guiding me to create Challenge as a
focus for our love and marriage. I hope you realize it -- you gals are
working for a non-profit corporation. I'm simply your treasurer and
financial advisor. Very soon now you are going to have to go to work
and support me. What's the matter, Cindar? You look so worried."

 

 

"Sometimes, I can't believe that you are the same Yale Marratt I knew
in college."

 

 

"You mean I have changed for the worse?"

 

 

"Oh, honey, no! Even Anne admits that you are somehow 'different.'
We both agreed that what you want to do is typically quixotic, and
typically you. Only now you seem to know so much, somehow . . . financial
things that bewilder us both. . . ." She paused. "I'm not clear, am I?
But years ago you were more of a dreamer. I never thought . . . well,
I guess I was afraid of your wild ideas, then. Now, I get positively
frightened when you talk so coolly of making three million dollars;
and then this Challenge idea . . . Oh, Yale . . ."

 

 

"Maybe you are both my Sancho Panzas. A much more realistic idea when you
think of it than that of Don Quixote followed by a fat man. A twentieth
century Don Quixote with two beautiful women to try to keep him out
of trouble."

 

 

"In trouble, you mean." Anne smiled. "Even Don Quixote had more sense
than to believe that the rest of the male population would be gratified
if he had two wives. I sometimes think that Cindar and I have a tiger
by the tail."

 

 

"You can let go of this tiger without having it bite you," Yale said.
"I don't blame either of you for being bewildered. The main thing is that
I never would have gone this far, if I hadn't felt that basically the
three of us all have the same outlook on life. It would certainly be
impossible, for example, if any of us was so dollar-conditioned that our
goal in life was to enjoy a superiority based on possessions. I don't
believe either of you care for that kind of life."

 

 

"We insist on having a tub with running water, though." Anne grinned.

 

 

"And a flush toilet," Cynthia said. "Just wait. You are going to go sit
in that outhouse with us, just for penance. You'll see how demanding two
wives can be. Don't think we are going to wear just jeans and sweaters
all the time either. . . ."

 

 

The waitress brought their lobsters, taking longer than necessary to
arrange the side dishes.

 

 

"She's wondering what I've got to attract two such lovely dames." Yale
laughed. Then, very seriously he told them how very much he hoped their
marriage would work. "It would be kind of foolish for me to pray to a
monogamous Christian or Jewish god. I don't particularly believe in
destiny, but I feel that Challenge, Inc., will be a kind of central
point in our marriage. By living together, gracefully, and caring deeply
for each other, we will proclaim in our marriage and in our living the
essential dignity of man. If man can't solve his own tiny problems --
problems that are within his control -- how can he cope with the larger
ones? Sure . . . Challenge may not make much of a dent or change the
course of the world, but if the three of us admit the goal is worthwhile;
if we believe in the essential wonder of man and manage to awaken a few
men to their possibilities, then we will have accomplished something."

 

 

Yale spoke so earnestly that he was unable to restrain the tears. He could
see the warm approval on their faces and the extent of their love, but he
was impelled to continue.

 

 

"What would you have me do? I have to know one thing for dead certain --
that you are with me. The way I have set this thing up, we may not be
personally wealthy. If the basic fund grows -- and hold your breath --
I hope to build it up to at least twenty million dollars, then you will
receive as managers thirty or forty thousand dollars a year." He noticed
the surprise on their faces. "What do you want me to do? Forget it? Three
million dollars is a lot of money. Even if I dissolve the foundation
and pay the taxes, we can still spend our lives in complete luxury --
we can own fancy foreign cars, swimming pools, chase around to swanky
clubs, see the best shows . . . you both can have . . ."