Orrie's Story Read Free Page A

again. They had counted on another scorcher that began early and by afternoon would make an oven of the bathroom and so make obligatory the use of the electric fan.
    But E.G. had warned her against capricious pessimism. “It’s a sound plan, as long as we don’t lose our nerve.”
    Like Ellie, Orrie ignored Uncle Erie as much as possible. E.G.’s holiday gifts, always in the form of cash, were invariably transferred by the boy to his mother, without deductions. She preferred to believe her son was being more generous to her than negative to her lover. But no such interpretation was possible when he spurned E.G.’s offer to help with college costs.
    â€œWhat the scholarship doesn’t pay for, I’ll get waiting tables.” Orrie’s tone was causelessly bitter, and his chin was at a defiant thrust that Esther found disrespectful.
    â€œHell, Orrie,” E.G. said, elaborately opening his wallet, “I’ve got some portraits of Ben Franklin here, burning a hole in my pocket.” He began to extract and wave hundred-dollar bills, one by one. A couple of those would cover dormitory room and board all year, which was more than could be said for the job Orrie had been given by the college employment agency. The scholarship took care of only tuition, with a modest allowance for books.
    â€œGo ahead, Orrie,” Esther urged. “Uncle Erie means it.” E.G. began a movement that might have ended in his forcing the bills into the boy’s shirt pocket, had not Orrie backed up violently and balled his fists.
    Infuriated, Esther shouted, “Don’t you act like that!”
    Orrie gave her one contemptuous stare and left the room, and not long afterward, without saying a decent goodbye, the house itself. It was by accident that she glanced out the window at the right time to see his departure for college, the shabby old suitcase of his father’s in hand and, worse, wearing the jacket to one of Augie’s old suits, a salt-and-pepper tweed, so out of style it was belted in the back. Orrie had the pathetic belief he could get away with this as a sportcoat when he wore it, as now, with a pair of green corduroy slacks that scraped the ground at his heels, in an era when the prevailing style for young fellows was “pegged” pants, the cuffs well above the shoes.
    She was about to call to E.G. to come and have a look but was suddenly restrained by a feeling of loyalty, affection, and an uncomfortable pity for her son, which she soon enough however converted into a more convenient hatred for the father who had selfishly run off to war to try to prove his manhood while leaving wife and children behind to fend for themselves.
    That had been several weeks earlier. She had not expected soon to hear from Orrie, given the nature of his leaving, and she did not. But he had already written twice to Ellie. Esther intercepted both letters, read and destroyed them. This was done to retain her power in the house, but she was not without a more tender emotion. She genuinely loved Orrie and therefore could be wounded by him, and she knew he loved her in return, and not just, conventionally, as a mother. They had always had profound affinities. Even when Augie was at home, Orrie displayed a marked preference for her company and a notable lack of attraction for his father’s pursuits. After the boy had rejected a series of invitations to rabbit hunts, big-league ballgames, and shows in which stunt drivers crashed through burning walls, Augie wondered about Orrie’s virility.
    â€œHe ought to get out of the house more, have fun like a man.”
    â€œHe’s a child.”
    â€œHe’s started his teens,” said Augie. “I hope he likes girls.”
    Esther was pleased to notice that Orrie never displayed such an interest in her presence, not even when the Burchnal kid, two backyards away, sunbathed her precociously developed body in shorts and halter.