The Laughing Matter Page 7

  “I had no idea,” Walz said. “Is it actually a trick? I mean, a technical matter rather than something else?”

  “It’s a trick,” Evan said.

  He took Warren’s glass and went up onto the porch to get each of them a new drink. He tossed the ice and dregs out of each glass onto the lawn, fixed the drinks quickly, saying only a few words to May Walz, not looking at Swan, not even looking at May, and then went back to Walz, who took his glass and said, “What is a loner, anyway? I’m not sure I know what you mean.”

  Evan Nazarenus laughed, laughing at himself and not at the man’s question.

  “Everybody’s a loner,” he said. “It has no special meaning. I’m glad Dade likes to prune the vines. I think I’d like to do that myself. I get a pretty good Christmas and New Year holiday. It might be a good idea to come down and go to work with Dade this winter.”

  “I wonder if you’d like the work,” Walz said. “It’s the same thing over and over. I make a stab at it every year. After I’ve done a dozen vines or so, an hour’s work, I’ve had all I can take.”

  The women came down to the lawn, not insisting on joining them, but lingering near by. The four of them were soon talking, and drawing closer.

  “I thought we might eat on the lawn,” Swan said, almost speaking to Walz. “I mean, we could bring the picnic table from the back yard.”

  “It’s O.K. with me,” Evan said to May Walz. “O.K. with you?”

  “I think it would be fine,” May said.

  “Shall we get the table, then?” Walz said to Evan.

  They went off together and soon returned with the long table. Swan and May went into the house for a tablecloth and other stuff. When they came out and went to work, Swan said, “It’s steaks and a salad. Do your daughters like steaks?”

  “Sure,” Walz said. “Wonderful.”

  “Medium-rare, pretty much?” Swan said.

  “I think so,” Walz said.

  The women fooled around the table, going in and coming out of the house. The men gradually wandered around the house to the back yard, Evan Nazarenus going there almost helplessly, for he wanted to have another look at Red and Eva.

  Chapter 17

  After dinner Cody Bone came by with his son Bart, as Evan had asked them to do, for at the back of his mind had been the thought that it was necessary for anyone who had seen him last night to see him again as soon as possible. It had seemed extremely important to get this matter out of the way, so he could turn to the other matter. From the depot, while Red had been riding in the locomotive with Cody Bone, he had telephoned Dade at the St. Francis in San Francisco.

  “Can you do me a favor?” he’d said. “Fly down tonight. Stay only a couple of hours if you like, but fly down.”

  “I’ll try,” Dade had said. “I may not be able to make it until late. Will you be up?”

  “I’ll be up.”

  “I’ll try. Midnight or one or two, or maybe even three, if that’s not too late.”

  “Any time, Dade.”

  “I’ll try.”

  The table was soon cleared, the kids played on the front lawn, the others sat at the table with drinks, or stood near it.

  Evan stood with Bart, who was drinking beer. The father and the son had cleaned up and put on fresh clothes: open white shirts, white slacks, moccasins. The boy, like Warren Walz, had nothing to say about last night. He wanted some information about Stanford.

  “When you get there,” Evan said, “call me. I’ll take you around to the people you ought to see. How much longer will you be at the college in Fresno?”

  “Another year,” Bart said, “but I want to begin making plans now. I’m not sure I may not want to go to one of the Eastern schools at the last minute. I think I’d rather, except for Cody. I can’t decide on a profession, either, so if it’s just school I’ll be going to, it seems to me a school in another part of the country would be best.”

  “Most likely,” Evan said. “How about law?”

  “No, I think not,” Bart said. “I hate disputes, and the whole idea. I mean, the idea’s supposed to be to reach truth and—well, justice, I suppose. But that’s not what happens at all. Lawyers take pride in concealing the truth, in distorting it, in prohibiting it. I suppose somebody might come along and be a true lawyer, but I doubt if he’d get very far, or last very long.”

  “Medicine?”

  “Not for me. I couldn’t be near pain in others without feeling it myself. I’d feel it all the time. I wouldn’t be much help.”

  “What about teaching?”

  “Well, that might be O.K. if I could think of something to teach. I can’t.” He thought a moment, then said, “Most of all I’d like to travel, but that’s no profession. Besides, you’ve got to have money, and the only way you can get money is to work.”

  “Have you thought of going to sea? A voyage around the world, for instance? I know a fellow with the President Line who might get you on as an able seaman. I think a little training would be involved, but nothing much.”

  He saw the boy’s eyes brighten.

  “I’ve dreamed of something like that all my life,” Bart said. “It’s what I’d really like to do. I don’t have to go back to college. I’ve planned to only because there’s nothing else to do. I suppose I’d even be paid.”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “I’d have time ashore in quite a few cities, wouldn’t I?”

  “I’m not sure, but I should imagine so.”

  “Would you speak to the man?” the boy said. “I’m ready to go. I’m ready to take the necessary training. I wouldn’t want to wait table or anything like that. I’d want to work with the ship itself.” He brought an envelope from his back pocket, removed the letter, and handed the envelope to Evan. “That’s my name and address. The phone’s Clovis 121, but if you forget, the operator will put you through. Do you think there’s a chance? It’s exactly what I want to do.”

  “Yes, I think there is a chance,” Evan said. “Do you want to speak to your father about it?”

  “Not until I know if I can go,” Bart said. “The reason for that is, I don’t want him to worry for nothing, in case it doesn’t turn out. When it looks as if it might turn out, then I know I can explain it to him so he won’t worry. I I mean I’ll know when I’ll be leaving and when I’ll be back. When things are clear that way, well, they are clear, and there’s little left to worry about. I might even know the places I’d be able to visit, the places from which I’d send him letters. He wouldn’t worry if it was all clear, but if it wasn’t, he’d worry, and he might just worry so much that I’d start worrying about him, and hell, that’s silly. How long would the trip take?”

  “About three months, I think. Figure four. Perhaps five, even.”

  “What’s five months?” the boy said. “What’s six? What’s a year? To do a thing like that, I mean? I want to go. I can’t wait to go. I don’t just mean around the world. I mean, to go. I’ve been here all my life, almost eighteen years. I’m not sick and tired of it exactly, but do you want to know something? I’ve never met a girl here I’d like to marry. I’ve liked the ones I’ve known, but I want to see others. I want to see them in all sorts of different countries. I want to know the way they are. I’ll probably come home and marry one of the girls here, but before I do, I want to see the others. I want to have seen them. I want to know what I’m doing, and why. I mean, I don’t want what I do to happen because I happened to be there at the time, and all the rest of it. I’m sure you understand what I mean.”

  “I understand,” Evan said. “I’ll call the man at his home tomorrow. Tomorrow’s Sunday, so unless he’s on his vacation, he’ll be home. I’ll call you just as soon as I’ve had a talk with him.”

  “I’ll be hanging around the house all day,” the boy said. “I hope this works.”

  “I hope it does, too,” Evan said. “Let me get you another beer.”

  At the table, opening another can and filling the glass, Evan saw Co
dy Bone talking to Red. Red was away from the others, standing in front of Cody, who sat with his back to the table, holding a glass with Scotch and ice in it. Evan didn’t hear much, but he heard enough to know that his son was asking Cody about Cody’s personal experience in the matter of anger.

  Evan and Cody’s son Bart were joined after a moment by Warren Walz, who, without preamble, said, “What’s it all about, anyway? Can you tell me, Bart? Can you, Evan?”

  Cody’s son laughed, perhaps because he was excited about the idea of making a voyage around the world. He also laughed because it was such a strange question. He certainly had never before heard Warren Walz ask a question like that. Bart turned to Evan, as if to delegate to him the responsibility of trying to answer the question.

  “Well, Warren,” Evan said, “I think I know what you mean.”

  “I mean,” Walz said swiftly, “what’s it all about, that’s all.”

  “I know,” Evan said. “And the answer is, you know, and nobody else does.”

  “Do I?” Walz said. “Do I know? I didn’t know. I didn’t think I knew at all. I was sure I didn’t, but come to think of it, maybe I did. Maybe I knew all the time. Maybe I do know.”

  “Well, if you do,” Bart said, “tell me, because I don’t.”

  “Oh, no,” Walz said. “I know for myself, and you’ll have to find out for yourself.”

  “Well, tell me what it is for yourself, then,” Bart said.

  “Why should I?” Walz said. “Now, if you were twenty-one, I could tell you a little of it, but as it is, I can’t tell you any of it.”

  Bart burst into laughter. Walz began to laugh, too, only he went on laughing. Fanny came and stood in front of him.

  “What are you laughing about?” she said.

  “You go over there and play,” Walz told his daughter with mock sternness, which might just not have been mock at all, but something he had wanted to do for a long time.

  “Oh,” Fanny said. “O.K. I thought it was a joke you could tell me.”

  She was gone instantly, indifferently.

  “Get yourself three daughters and you’ve got yourself three more wives,” Walz said to Evan. “Wants to know why I’m laughing. Four wives is a lot of wives for one man.” He looked at his glass as if he had never before seen it. “What’s it all about, anyway?” he said suddenly again. Then, looking at Evan, his eyes troubled arid hurt and ashamed, he said, “I can’t drink worth a damn any more. I believe I’m drunk.” He swallowed all of the liquid in his glass, then said, “I hope to Christ you won’t mind if I get a little drunker.”

  “I promise to get you and your family safely home if you do,” Bart said.

  “Oh, hell,” Walz said. “Can I freshen yours while I’m getting mine?” he said to Evan.

  Evan handed him his glass. Walz went to the table, and as he went Bart noticed that he was actually drunk.

  “I’ve never seen him this way before,” Bart said. “I mean, so likable. He’s always been a little stuffy. You know how it is in a town like this. Six or seven families visit one another from time to time. Well, every time Warren and May have visited Cody, and I’ve been there, too, he’s always been—well, a little stuffy. I think you’ve been a good influence. I mean——”

  He was suddenly embarrassed by what he’d said about a man better than twice his age, talking about him as if he were somebody slightly peculiar or a little inferior.

  “I must be getting a little drunk myself,” he said softly and shyly. “A glass of beer, I guess, and I think I’m pretty smart. I hope it’s because I’m so excited about the idea of this voyage.”

  Walz came back with Evan’s drink. Bart wandered off to talk to Fay Walz, as if to demonstrate to Evan he knew perfectly well when to shut up and go away.

  “I’ve got something to tell you,” Walz said quickly. “I hope you won’t mind. It’s this. I know you’re having a rough time. The reason I know is I am, too. I understand this whole business. I didn’t want to come. I cooked up the excuse about the kids wanting to get away. Well, if there’s anything I can do—and don’t think I don’t know what a fool I must seem—well, I can’t imagine what I could do. I wouldn’t be able to do anything for myself, let alone for somebody else. What I mean is—well, to hell with it. Forget it. I’m sorry I brought it up. Look at that damn middle girl of mine standing on her head. She’ll stay there an hour if she decides she wants to.”

  “She’s delightful,” Evan said.

  “I’m crazy about her,” Walz said quickly. “I think I’ll let her know.”

  He went to the girl standing on her head, put his drink down on the lawn, and tried to stand on his head beside her. The first time he tried he fell back the way he had started, on his feet. He tried again instantly, made it for an instant, then fell flat on his back. He started again, though, very serious about what he was trying to do but getting tired. His wife and Swan, laughing, went to watch. The little girl, still standing on her head, laughed each time her father failed, then said, “You can’t do it, Papa. You’re too fat.”

  “I’m not so fat,” Walz said.

  Everybody gathered around now, and Evan saw Red stand on his head on the other side of Fanny. Red was able to stay on his head only five or six seconds, though. Walz tried again, made it, and Cody Bone applauded until the women did, too. Then Walz fell flat on his back, and went to sleep.

  “Oh, dear,” May Walz said. “He’s drunk.”

  Walz opened his eyes.

  “I’m not drunk,” he said softly. “I just want to lie here and sleep. Don’t worry about me, May.”

  Still standing on her head, Fanny shouted, “Whoever can’t stand on his head is a moron.”

  “What’s that?” Red asked Cody Bone. “What’s a moron?”

  “Whatever it is,” Cody said, “it’s going to be what I am, because I’m not going to try to stand on my head.”

  “Can’t you do it?” Red said. “I can. You saw me, didn’t you?”

  “I saw you all right,” Cody said. “I suppose I could do it if I wanted to, but I think I’d rather be a moron.”

  “Then, that’s what I’d rather be, too,” Red said.

  He ran around in front of Fanny, bent down to be near her head, and said, “We’re all morons, except you, Fanny.”

  “I know,” Fanny said.

  Everybody sat on the lawn around Fanny. After a moment, Walz sat up to go on drinking, and everybody felt deeply thankful for Fanny, still standing on her head.

  Chapter 18

  He was in the house to get another bottle of Scotch when the telephone bell rang.

  “I’m at the airport,” Dade said. “Is there any way we could meet here? I’ll tell you why. There’s a plane back in an hour and a half, and I’ve got to take it. Is my car back yet?”

  “No, Dade.”

  “Could you borrow a car?”

  “Warren Walz and his family are here,” Evan said, “and Cody Bone and his son.”

  “Could Bart lend you his car?”

  “I think so. I’ll be there as soon as possible.”

  He got the bottle, took it out to the table, opened it, poured fresh drinks for all who were drinking Scotch, then said, “A friend of mine’s at the airport for an hour and a half. It’s only half-past nine. I wonder if I could borrow a car and drive in? I won’t be long.”

  “Who is it?” Red said. He stood in front of his father.

  “Milton Schweitzer,” Evan said. “You remember him, Red. He’s with me at Stanford.”

  “Take my car,” Bart said.

  “May I?”

  “Sure.”

  “I won’t be long,” Evan said.

  “I want to go with you,” Red said. He seemed almost in a panic. He ran to Swan. “I want to go with my father,” he said. “Mama, don’t you say I can’t go!”

  “You can go, Red,” he heard Swan say.

  “I want to go, too,” Eva said, running to Swan.

  “You can go, too, Eva.”


  “No, darling,” Evan said. “You stay here. I won’t be long.”

  “No, Papa!” the girl said. “I want to go!”

  “No, darling.”

  “Papa!” the girl cried when he walked off.

  Bart walked with him to the car.

  “It takes a moment to get the hang of the old rattletrap,” he said, “but I’m sure you’ll get it soon enough.”

  “Papa! Take me. Take me, too!” he heard Eva cry when he started the car.

  “You can take her, too, Evan, if you want to,” he heard Swan say.

  The girl stood beside Bart, looking up at her father. When the car began to move the girl burst into tears, and ran after the car.

  “What does he want?” Red said.

  “He just wants to talk to me,” Evan said.

  “Why?” Red said. “What’s he want to talk about?”

  “We’re in the same department at Stanford. We’re old friends.”

  “Are you friends, Papa?”

  “Of course we’re friends. You sound scared. What are you scared of?”

  “I don’t know,” Red said.

  He drove swiftly, wondering why his son had been so eager to go with him, why he seemed so scared. He drove two miles in silence, but as the car plunged down the highway he began to go over the last few minutes: his own absurd lie, answering his son’s question with the first name that had come to mind, Milton Schweitzer, who had come to Stanford to teach playwrighting the semester after Evan had gone there to teach the novel. Just as Evan had had no real success as a novelist, Schweitzer had had none as a playwright. He’d had two plays on Broadway, both flops, and two others that hadn’t gotten farther than Boston or Philadelphia. He was Evan’s own age, or a little older. He was a New Yorker by birth, and he’d gone to Columbia.

  He didn’t think it would do not to say something more to Red, but he was a little afraid to. He was a little afraid of everything now; of the car ahead, which he was sure he would be able to pass as easily as he’d passed all the others on the way, but he was a little afraid of it just the same. It was moving very slowly, and a driver of a slow car can suddenly do anything. He can suddenly make a left turn in front of a swiftly passing car. This one didn’t, though, and he passed it quickly. He saw an old man and his wife going along about twenty-five miles an hour in a car that was about twenty-five years old, on their way home after a visit with friends, most likely. He was a little afraid of the car that was moving toward him now, but the two cars drew abreast, made the swift sound cars moving in opposite directions make when they meet, and then all he had to be afraid of was Bart’s car. It was not a new car, the tires might not be what they ought to be. At seventy miles an hour a blowout might not be a simple thing to put up with.