The car couldn’t quite make the hill. Blake shifted gears carelessly, so
that they made a terrifying noise and his teeth hurt. Then he settled
down again behind the wheel and resumed his gloomy thoughts. The little
twists and turns in the road had become second nature to him and nothing
interfered with his meditations. He was occupied with a premature regret
for a beautiful day which was really just started. For him it was over.
He had hurried with his breakfast, very cheerful and making plans in his
mind to go right down to the plaza afterwards and see what was going on
in town. Probably there would be nothing, but at least he could spend a
pleasant morning talking to someone, lounging in front of the Capitol
Drug Store and having a Coca-Cola now and then. Besides, who knows?
Someone new and exciting might happen along.
Then Mary spoiled it all. He could not blame her as much as he wished,
for after all it was simply another morning and she would have been sure
to act the same way some other day if she had postponed it this time. It
was just one of those conversations. And yet once again he was
overwhelmed with that sense of the world outside of him, expecting him
to rise up and act in some preposterous worthwhile manner. The world of
the adult was perilously close. He hated to be reminded of it.
“Blake darling,” she had said, “are you doing anything this morning?”
Harmless enough as far as it went. He answered without suspecting
anything.
“Nothing special. Can I help you?”
“If you would. I haven’t anyone to send up to Sunmount with some flowers
I promised to Mrs. Meriwether, because Paul is busy over at the garage
overhauling the Packard, and I’ll need it this afternoon. I did promise
Mrs. Meriwether, and the poor thing’s so ill. Could you _possibly_——”
“Certainly. I’ll take them over now, if you like.” He stood up and
pushed back his chair.
“Wait a minute, dear. It isn’t so important that it can’t wait a little.
I’ve been waiting for a chance to talk to you.”
He hesitated, badly frightened at her tone. Something was going to
happen; something unpleasant.
“It’s about school.”
He sat down again slowly and hopelessly. “I knew it,” he said. “What
about it?”
“Well.... Here’s a letter from the people in California. They’re willing
to take you for the next year; isn’t that nice?”
“No, it isn’t.” He mused bitterly and added, “How do you know they’re
willing? They haven’t even seen me.”
“Well, I pointed out to them that there wasn’t much time for
preparation. I explained about your last school——”
“Did you have to?” he asked quickly.
“Yes, darling. I was very fair to you, I think. I said that I understood
that they had a modern viewpoint, and I said I was sure they’d agree
that the preliminary meeting was a formality that wasn’t really
important. I must say that they sound extremely reasonable. They seem to
agree to everything I say. In fact, I’m sure it will turn out very
well.”
He tried to answer her, but at his expression she laughed. “Oh, darling,
don’t look so miserable! What a baby you are!”
“Listen,” he said desperately. “I’ve been talking about this place to
Phyllis and she says it’s terrible.”
“Does she? I’m surprised at Phyllis. Her mother said that she was very
happy there.”
“She doesn’t know how terrible it is: she’s too dumb. But I could tell
from what she said. She says they understand the kids.” He spoke in deep
loathing.
“Well? Why do you object to that?”
“Oh, what’s the use?” he cried.
“Blake! What do you propose to do with yourself if you don’t go to
school? You can’t go on like this.”
“Why not?” he asked, without any real hope.
“Besides, when you grow up you won’t be satisfied with yourself. You’re
just a baby, really. I know you don’t think of yourself that way, but
you are. An ignorant little child. I can’t let you grow up without
learning any more, can I? How will you ever get into college?”
He answered quickly, “But I keep telling you, I don’t want to go to
college. I won’t go.”
“You’ll change your mind when the time comes,” she said benevolently.
He drew pictures on the tablecloth with a fork, and tried hard to think
of what he could say. He would feel his way.
“Listen. Why can’t I go away somewhere and have a private education?
Lots of people send their sons abroad with tutors. Couldn’t you do that?
Why can’t I go to a foreign country and study languages? If I studied a
language I would be learning something. Let me go to Europe or China
or——”
“That wouldn’t be possible. Not at your age.”
“What has my age got to do with it?”
“Darling, I couldn’t think of letting you go away alone.”
“But if someone should go with me?”
She stood up and gathered her letters. “Let’s not argue, dear. _I_
wouldn’t think of it. You’re too young to be that far away from your
family; the Ashton boy got into a lot of trouble in Paris and I don’t
want to see it happen to you. You won’t understand: I can’t expect you
to understand, but you must take my word for it. Hadn’t you better get
the flowers and go to the sanatorium?”
Now as he left the car in the shade of a cottonwood he reflected that it
was a good thing he hadn’t told her about Mexico. He had almost said
something about it, but she had interrupted. At any rate—he rang the
bell at the white stuccoed gate—one thing was certain: he would run
away in spite of any objection that Teddy might raise at the last
minute. He trusted Teddy to come along if it should get too hot for them
in town, but he would need a little managing to crash through promptly.
Teddy or no Teddy, however, he must get out of all this or before he
knew it he would be on the train with all his text-books packed into the
baggage-car. He thought of the new school. A horrible place most likely,
with the walls as white as the gate here, whitewashed and lined with
dreadful grinning scientific instructors, all understanding him.
Understanding him! That was the limit.
He held out the flowers to the assistant and gave the name of his
mother’s friend.
“She’s a little better,” the assistant said. “You may see her if you
care to.”
“No thanks. I—I’m too busy.” He hurried out again and climbed into the
car. The place always made him nervous, and he could not even remember
which of his mother’s sick friends was Mrs. Meriwether. He could not
face the idea of following a nurse down the corridor to find out. He was
afraid of the place; all the quiet little white rooms with windows
opening on the green patio. He had spent many hours here and there,
sitting on little straight-backed chairs while his mother visited
people. Which was Mrs. Meriwether? There was one woman who was thinner
every time they came: she always wore pink or blue voile bed-jackets and
her hands were skinny and very clean, with shining red fingernails. She
kept talking about her fingernails and her lotions and the doctors who
were in love with her. Some of the patients were in love with her too,
she said. Mary was always very gentle about her afterwards, and never
said much on the way home.
Perhaps that was Mrs. Meriwether, or perhaps she was the other one, the
jolly one with red hair whose room always smelled sickeningly of ether.
He looked around and found that he had driven all the way down town, and
he hadn’t intended to take the car down. He started around the plaza,
meaning to go back. As he passed the Cathedral he heard an unfamiliar
voice calling; it sounded like his name. There it was again—“Blake!
Blake!”
He stopped suddenly and the Oklahoma Ford that had been plodding along
behind him turned out so sharply that the fenders kissed and made a
ringing noise.
“Damn fool!” called the driver from Oklahoma. Blake looked after him
nervously and then turned to see who had called. There was a line of
cars parked at the kerb, but he could see no one. Exasperated, he backed
and looked closely.
“Blake! Here! It was me.” A girl leaned from one of the autos, waving at
him. He brought the car up next to hers, but could not recognize her. It
was very confusing because she undoubtedly knew him very well.
He tried to hide his hesitation. “Oh, hello,” he said feebly. “I
couldn’t see you. How have you been?”
“I’m fine. Where were you going in such a hurry?”
She must know him, but who was she?
“Nowhere. Nowhere special. Would you like to come for a ride?” It was a
long shot, but there seemed to be nothing else to do.