The Naked and the Dead - Norman Mailer [259]
There are important conversations with his father.
We have to be thinking seriously of what you want to do, Willie.
I've kinda set my mind on engineering, Pop. (This is no surprise. They've talked of it many times, but this occasion there's the tacit understanding that it's Serious.)
Well, now, I'm glad to hear that, Willie. I don't want to say I've ever tried to form your opinion for you, but I couldn't ask for anything better.
I really like machinery.
I've noticed that, Son. (The pause) It's aeronautical engineering that interests you?
I think it's gonna be the field.
It is, Son, I think it's a good choice. That's an up-and-coming business. His father claps him on the shoulder. I want to mention one thing though, Willie. I noticed you been getting a little cocky, nothing to speak about, and you keep your manners with us, but it's not a good policy, Son. It's perfectly all right to know that you can do something better'n the next man, but it isn't good sense to let the other man know it.
Never thought of it that way. He shakes his head. Listen, Pop, it's nothin' serious, but I'll watch it from now on. (An insight) Really learned something from you there.
The father chuckles, quite pleased. Sure, Willie, the old man can still tell you a thing or two.
You're a swell guy, Pop. The whole thing is warm between them. He feels himself coming of age, the equal ready to talk to his father as a friend.
That summer he works at the Crown Theatre as an usher. It's a pleasant job. He knows at least half the people who come there, and he can talk to them for a few minutes before he shows them a seat. (It's a good idea to be friends with everybody; you never can tell when you'll want a favor from a man.)
Indeed, the only dull times are in the afternoons when hardly anyone is there. Usually there's a few girls to talk to, but since he has broken up with his senior year sweetheart he is not interested. I don't want any wedding bells, he always wisecracks.
One day, however, he meets Beverly. (The slim dark-eyed, dark-haired girl on the left with the exciting red mouth she has penciled over her lips.) How'd you like the picture, Gloria? he asks the other one.
I thought it was a mighty sorry picture.
Yeah, it's awful. Hello. (To Beverly.)
Hello, Willie.
He smiles blankly. How do you know me?
Oh, I was the year behind you in school. I remember you from the cheer leaders.
The introductions, the bright talk. Bridling pleasantly. So you knew me, huh?
Everybody knows you, Willie.
Yeah, ain't it tough? They laugh.
Before she leaves, he has made a date.
The hot summer nights, the languor of the trees, the leaven in the earth. After the dates they ride in his car to a park at the crest of a hill on the highway outside the suburb. Inside the car they roll and squirm, bang their knees and their backs against the gearshift, the steering wheel, the knobs for the windows.
Aw come on, baby, I won't do a thing if you won't let me but come on.
No, I can't, I better not.
God, I love you, Beverly.
I do too, Willie. (The car radio is playing when it rains it rains. . . Pennies from Heaven. Her hair has a clean root smell, and her nipple is delicately fragrant against his mouth. He feels her writhing in his grasp, sobbing-panting.)
Oh, kid.
I can't, Willie, I love you so much please I can't.
I wish we were married.
Oh, do I. (Nuzzling his hair with her mouth) Ohhh.
The analyses: You made her yet, Willie?
I got to third base last night, I'll make her yet. Oh, what a dame.
What'd she do?
She moaned. Jeez, I go for her. I made her moan.
Aaah, if they won't put out.
Folklore: If she won't lay she's frigid; if she does she's a whore.
I'll make her yet. Don't forget she's cherry. (Way back is a sneaking guilt -- I love you, Beverly.)
Talking serious: You know I dreamt about you last night, Willie.
Me too. You know that movie we saw the other day, Captain Blood, I thought Olivia de Haviland looked like you. (Identification with the square of canvas in the dark cavern. His love is perfect like theirs.)
You're sweet. (Ineffable attraction of the girl playing mother. The red bow of her lips.) If you weren't so sweet I wouldn't. . . go so far. You don't have a bad opinion of me?