The Studs Lonigan Trilogy - James T. Farrell [30]
“Hello, there,” sighed Leon.
“Hello!” said Studs, turning sharply, a little surprised.
Studs looked at Leon; he almost looked a hole through him.
Leon was middle-aged and fat. He had a meaty rump that always made the guys laugh, and a pair of breastworks like a woman. His skin was smooth and oily, his eyes dark and cowy, his lips thick and sensuous, his nose Jewish. Leon was a music teacher, and Studs always felt that he was goofy enough to be... just a music teacher.
“I say! Why do boys look backward? I always wanted to know,” he said in a half-lisp.
“I was just lookin’ to see if any of the guys were down the street.”
“Well, you know, it’s the funniest thing. It really is. Because I see so many boys looking backward, and I’m always asking myself why they do it. Never for the life of me have I been able to understand,” said Leon.
Studs shrugged his shoulders.
Leon placed his hand on Studs’ shoulder, and patted his head with the other hand. It made Studs feel a little queer, he felt as if Leon’s hands were dirty, or his stomach was going to turn, or something like that. Sometimes his mother tried to hold him and kiss him, and that made him feel goofy. This was a hundred times worse. Once over in the park, an old man sat down by him and asked if he liked the girls, or ever took them over on the wooded island at night, and he tried to feel Studs. The guy had been goofy, and Studs had had an awful feeling that he couldn’t describe. He hadn’t gone to the park for over a week, and every time he thought of the old guy, and wondered what the bastard had wanted, his thoughts turned sour. He felt the same way with Leon, only Leon was funny and he could laugh at him.
“When are you going to come and see me and let me teach you how to play the piano; you know, you little rascal, that I offered to give you lessons free.”
“Oh, some time,” Studs said.
“You’re missing a wonderful opportunity, my boy. You don’t understand now, but you will some day, how fine music can make a life beautiful,” persuaded Leon.
What the hell is the damn fool talking about? Where in hell did he get that way? Studs said to himself.
Leon had taken his hands off Studs. Now he patted his head.
Studs stepped back a little.
“You’re young now, but I’ll bet you’re an artist. If you let me teach you, I’ll make a musician out of you.”
Studs thought he might as well string the guy along a little. “Then I can play in movie houses?”
“No, not that. I only do that to make a living. I mean a real musician. An artist.”
Studs wondered what he meant by artist. He thought an artist was a guy who painted pictures, and always raved like a maniac because nobody liked his pictures.
Holy Jumpin’ Jimminy! Studs almost laughed right in the guy’s face.
“You must come over now and start those lessons.”
“Some time I will,” said Studs. -
“Don’t hesitate. He who hesitates is lost. You have your opportunity now, my boy, and opportunity strikes but once. Now tomorrow morning I’ll be free. My mother will be out at eleven, and suppose you come then, and we’ll be all alone and there won’t be no one to bother us, and we’ll be free... for our first lesson.”
Leon placed his arm around Studs’ shoulder.
‘Well, tomorrow, I gotta beat rugs for my mother.”
“But mother might let you off if you say it’s to take music lessons.”
“You don’t know my mother.”
“But mothers can be convinced. Now, I know. I have a mother who still tries to boss me.”
Studs didn’t have any answer for Leon. Leon tried to convince Studs. Then he had to rush to get to a lesson. He gave Studs a final pat, and told him to think it over. As he started to wriggle his rump along, he turned and said: