Sons Read Free Page B

him?”
    “Won’t he mind?”
    “Who cares what he minds?”
    “Not me, that’s for sure,” I said, and we went into the other room. Walsh was still on the couch. I gave him my John Wayne look, and then took the girl into my arms.
    “Where do you live?” I whispered in her ear.
    “On Halsted.”
    “Halsted and where?”
    “Halsted and Sixty-first.”
    “Near the university?”
    “Yes.”
    “That’s very nice there.”
    “Yes, it’s beautiful. You dance awfully close, do you know that?”
    “So do you.”
    “That’s only because you’re holding me so tight.”
    “Do you mind?”
    “Well... no. But don’t get the wrong idea.”
    “What’s the wrong idea?”
    “You know,” she whispered.
    “No, I don’t.”
    “Well, you just figure it out.”
    “I’ll try.”
    “Yes, do try,” she said.
    Walsh was still watching us. There was only one other couple in the room and they were standing near the record player. Walsh glanced at them as though seeking their sympathy, but they were chattering about the poster hanging over the phonograph, a huge cartoon showing Hitler saying, “It is goot to hear Americans are now pudding 10 % of der pay into Bunds!” and Goebbels whispering to a glum Goering, “Hermann,
you
tell him it iss BONDS — not BUNDS!” Neither of them even noticed Walsh’s imploring look, and he seemed to take their indifference as a personal affront.
    “How old are
you?”
the girl asked me.
    “I’ll be eighteen in June. I may join the Air Force,” I said. “I want to fly. I want to be a fighter pilot.”
    “Seems like everybody interesting is either already drafted or about to be,” the girl said.
    “Oh? You think I’m interesting?”
    “You’re okay,” she said indifferently.
    Walsh came up off the couch in that moment, apparently having made his big decision. He walked directly to where we were dancing, and politely tapped me on the shoulder. I looked at his hand, and I said, “Sorry, no cutting in.”
    “Who says so?” Walsh asked.
    “Me.”
    “Look, Tyler...”
    “Yes, Walsh?”
    “What’s the idea?”
    “What’s the
big
idea,” I said. “You’re supposed to say ‘What’s the
big
idea?”’
    “All right, what’s the
big
idea?” Walsh said.
    “The idea is no cutting in,” I said. “That’s also the
big
idea.”
    “Look, Tyler...”
    “Yes, Walsh?”
    “You know, Tyler...”
    “Yes, Walsh?”
    Walsh stood looking into my face, pained. I figured he didn’t know whether to press the issue or to retreat gracefully. He knew I could take him, but he also knew there were several close friends of his at the party, and yet he further knew I could take
them,
too. Besides, he knew I’d had a few beers, and he knew I could be terribly dangerous when I was John Wayne, but at the same time he wanted this girl, probably because he’d had such a promising beginning with her, his hand only having been removed from the hem of her skirt some sixty-four times in the length of a half-hour. So he stood in the center of the room, not wanting to walk away from a light, and yet hoping he would not have to fight. Realizing all this, I refused to make things easier for him. Instead of dancing the girl away and allowing Walsh to save face, I kept circling in the same spot, waiting for him to make his move.
    “Aw, go fuck yourself,” he finally said cleverly, and went out into the kitchen.
    “Nice fellow,” I said, and smiled.
    “Charming.”
    “You still want to dance?”
    “What else is there to do?”
    “I thought we’d explore the house a little.”
    “What’s there to explore?”
    “Well, the thing about exploration is you never know what you’ll be exploring until you start.”
    “I’ve got a pretty good idea what we’ll be exploring,” the girl said. “Well, don’t be too sure.”
    “Maybe we ought to keep dancing.”
    “Sure, whatever you say.”
    “Anyway, it seems as if too many people are
already
out exploring.”
    “Oh, there’re