In a Yellow Wood

by Gore Vidal

  “No, there weren’t any calls. Some memorandums came in from the other sections but that was all.”

  “Any letters?” He thought of his family.

  “Yes.” Caroline sounded surprised. “Right there on your desk. Right where I always put them.”

  “Oh, yes.” Mr. Murphy sat down at his desk and looked at the pile of neat business-like envelopes. He had no desire to open them.

  Caroline typed rhythmically at her desk.

  “Say, Caroline....”

  She stopped and looked at him.

  “Tell Holton to step over here, will you?”

  “Sure, Mr. Murphy.” She got up and went through the gate and out into the office. He watched her legs as she walked determinedly to the other end of the room. He was almost pleased to feel the pain come flooding into his stomach. That would teach his stomach, he thought viciously.

  The gate creaked and Robert Holton stood before him.

  “You want to see me, sir?”

  “Yes, yes, Holton. Sit down here. Over here on my left.”

  Robert Holton sat down and looked expectant. Mr. Murphy wondered for a moment why he had asked to see Holton. Then he remembered what Mr. Heywood had said.

  “How’s everything coming, Holton?”

  “Just fine, Mr. Murphy.”

  “Well, that’s good. Things have been going pretty well here. But I suppose you find things pretty dull after the army?”

  “No, no. I like this sort of work. I had enough moving around.”

  “I should think so. Well, that’s what most of us want, I guess,” said Mr. Murphy. “We want to settle down. A lot of people say they don’t like routine but I think everybody does. It’s an important thing.”

  “Yes, sir. I think it is.”

  “There is,” said Mr. Murphy, shutting his eyes for a moment to give the illusion of pondering, “there is security in working for a big house like Heywood and Golden.” He opened his eyes and looked directly at Holton. “Don’t you feel that’s true?”

  “Yes, I hope so.”

  “Yes, it’s true.” Mr. Murphy sighed and thought about going out to the country for a rest. A place that would have neither telephones nor mosquitoes. Most places had one or the other.

  He looked at Robert Holton and wondered what he was thinking. He seemed a likeable young man. He was quiet and reserved and didn’t seem too aggressive. In fact that was probably a fault that Mr. Murphy had not thought of. Holton was not a go-getter. He might lack initiative. That was why he was quiet and reserved. Or, as Mr. Murphy finally thought, that might be a reason for his reserve.

  “Tell me, Holton,” said Murphy, “have you had any ideas about, ah, your place here? I mean, what you would like to do. Naturally you wouldn’t be interested in staying here, in this department. With your education....”He permitted his voice to fade.

  “No, I haven’t had any ideas; in fact, I haven’t thought too much about it. You see this is all pretty different from what it was like where I was in the army. I don’t suppose I’m quite used to the idea...well, you know....”

  “I think I do. You would like to work in another department perhaps?”

  Robert Holton looked at him. Mr. Murphy could not tell what he was thinking for his face was relaxed and calm. “Well,” said Holton, “I don’t know. I don’t want to be out of my depth. I’d like to make more money. I like the idea of buying and selling stocks. I like that idea very much. In fact, that’s one of the reasons I came here.”

  “Of course, there’s a lot of work to knowing about stocks and bonds. You realize all the work that’s involved.”

  “Yes.”

  “Perhaps a place will be found for you in that department. It’s hard to say, though. With your, ah, background it shouldn’t be too hard. That is, if you have the stuff.”

  “I hope so.”

  “Good.” Mr. Murphy watched Caroline typing. “I understand,” said Mr. Murphy finally in a changed voice, “that you’re going out tonight.”

  Robert Holton looked surprised. “What do you mean?”

  “Mr. Heywood said you and he were going to the same party.”

  Holton smiled. “That’s right, I’d forgotten. Mrs Stevanson’s giving a cocktail party. I guess that’s what he means.” “It won’t hurt to be nice to him there,” said Mr. Murphy with a laugh.

  “No, I don’t suppose so.”

  Mr. Murphy looked at Holton and wondered what would become of him. If he had more initiative he might be a wealthy man because of his background (the important thing was background), but he would probably not go very far. He might not even go as far as Mr. Murphy had and Mr. Murphy had been a success without background. Robert Holton didn’t look as though he cared to be a success.

  “Well, don’t let your night life interfere with business,” said Mr. Murphy lightly.

  “No,” said Holton rising, “I won’t.”

  With a nod Mr. Murphy dismissed him.

  Mr. Murphy watched Caroline absently as she typed. Her hair was rather long. It must be a nuisance to help her into a coat, he thought suddenly. That was something he hated to do. Whenever he helped a woman into a coat there was, first, a certain struggle to get her arms into the sleeves. Some women were better than others at this. And then, second, there was the problem of hair. If the woman had long hair it was inevitably caught inside the coat. This meant that her first motion was usually to free her hair and that involved a wild freeing and flinging of the hair which for anyone still posted behind her meant running a risk of becoming entangled. Mr. Murphy wondered about these problems as he looked at Caroline’s long dark hair.

  He had started to work on his letters (the ones in the business envelopes) when Richard Kuppelton appeared.

  “Yes?”

  “I’ve got the first part of that report here, the one on aircraft,” said Kuppelton.

  “Yes?” Mr. Murphy made himself sound cold and official.

  “Well, I wondered if you cared to look at them...what I’ve done so far, I mean.”

  Mr. Murphy looked at him for a moment without speaking. When Mr. Murphy had first come to work for Heywood and Golden his then immediate boss had impressed him greatly by just looking at him for several seconds at a time without speaking. Mr. Murphy had adopted the mannerism and over the years had improved it until now he could be very frightening. He was that way now.

  “You want me to do it for you?” he asked finally.

  “No...no, sir, I didn’t mean that. I just thought you would like to see what I got done.” Kuppelton was uncomfortable and Mr. Murphy decided that he had done enough.

  “Why, I’d be glad to look at it,” he said.

  Kuppelton brightened. “Thank you. I only wanted you to see the form I was using here. That was all. I’m making my conclusions in a slightly different way from usual and I thought....”

  “Yes, I’ll take a look at it.”

  Kuppelton put a pile of papers down on Mr. Murphy’s desk.

  Mr. Murphy nodded at him and Kuppelton left quickly. Mr. Murphy felt much better after exercising his power. Poor Kuppelton was a good man in an office but he would never go very far because he didn’t have assurance. He would be promoted after the first of the year if Holton were moved out. That would make Kuppelton happy, which was a good thing. It wasn’t bad, thought Mr. Murphy, to have contented people about you in a discontented world. He relaxed in his chair and then the pains started again.

  This time the ache was about an inch below his belt and slightly toward the left (his appendix was on the right and, besides, his appendix was in good shape). The pain began to move toward the center. Quickly he pressed his fingers into the pain.

  His heart beat rapidly and sweat formed on his face. If the pain didn’t go away by the count of ten he would get up and take the special medicine his doctor had given him.

  Frightened, Mr. Murphy counted and the pain, not subject to this magic, did not go away.

  Chapter Six

  “I
T’S TWELVE O’CLOCK,” CAROLINE SAID TO MR. MURPHY, “I think I’ll go out to lunch, if that’s O.K.”

  “Yes, yes, Caroline.”

  She thought he looked rather pale. She was about to ask him how he felt but she stopped herself, remembering how he disliked talking about his health. She had noticed that during the last year he had been taking a lot of medicine. Perhaps he was going to die. Caroline began to compose a little drama to herself. Mr. Murphy had just collapsed across his desk and she had been the only one to keep a clear head....

  “You coming, Caroline?” It was Robert Holton.

  “Be right there.” She arranged the papers on her desk, shut the drawers and joined Robert Holton outside the gate of the railing.

  “Where’ll we eat today?” asked Holton.

  “At the restaurant, of course. Where did you think we would?”

  “Oh, I don’t know.” He was smiling now and she wondered if he could have been trying to be funny; she could never be sure.

  “Sometimes you don’t make sense,” said Caroline.

  They were almost through the door when one of the secretaries called to Holton. “Phone, Bob.”

  She waited for him at the door. He went over to his desk and answered the phone. He seemed excited, she noticed, and he talked very quickly. She wished she could hear what he was saying. Finally, he finished and joined her.

  “Who was that?”

  “An old friend of mine.”

  “Man or woman?”

  “A guy I used to know. He just got in town. He comes from out West and I haven’t seen him for a couple of years.”

  “You knew him in the army?”

  “Yes.”

  They walked through the offices to the elevator and Holton pressed the button.

  “What’s he doing in town?”

  “He’s just visiting. I’m going to see him this afternoon. He’s coming over here after lunch.”

  “That’ll be nice. What does he look like?” She asked this gaily, hoping to have some effect on him. She didn’t, though.

  “I don’t know. He looks all right, I guess.”

  “You certainly are good at description. Be sure to let me meet him.”

  “I will.” ‘

  The elevator stopped for them and they pushed into the lunch-going crowd. With a rush they descended to the street floor.

  Outside the sun shone brightly above the street. The sky was a vivid blue and the air smelt clean in spite of the exhaust fumes and the people of the city. The day was warm.

  They walked along the crowded street. Men of affairs with brief cases walked in and out of swinging glass doors. Younger men of affairs, wearing bowler hats and dark coats with darker velvet lapels, marched solemnly in the parade of business. The white-faced clerks squinted at the bright sun. Women secretaries walked together, admiring themselves in the windows. As they walked they talked to each other and to themselves.

  “What a nice day,” said Caroline, breathing deeply and coughing as the exhaust fumes tickled her throat.

  “Must be nice in the country,” commented Robert Holton.

  “Not you too?” Caroline laughed. “First Murphy and now you want to go out in the country.”

  “I don’t want to go. I just said it must be pleasant there.” They crossed a street and he looked carefully to left and right and when they finally crossed the street the crowd had gone around them and the light was beginning to change again.

  “Why do you take so long?” said Caroline disagreeably.

  “Just careful, that’s all.”

  They walked in silence then. She was very conscious of his being beside her, of her arm being in his. This troubled Caroline, this awareness. She looked at Holton’s face as they walked down the crowded street. There was nothing in his face that she would like to have seen. This made her feel better because he was not the right person.

  Over the high gray buildings was a narrow section of bright blue sky. It was almost too bright and contrasted strangely with the dingy buildings and the dark streets. Caroline watched the blue sky suspended upon the buildings. No clouds were in the sky but from time to time a bird would circle in it. And, as she watched the sky, a large air liner, like a rigid bird, moved straightly eastward.

  Caroline breathed deeply again, careful this time not to get the exhaust fumes too far down in her lungs. She coughed anyway.

  Marjorie Ventusa looked through the plate-glass window at the street. She had been watching off and on for half an hour, waiting for Robert Holton to come.

  Some days he would come in at twelve and other days at twelve-thirty, and then there had been certain days when he’d not come in at all and those were bad days for Marjorie Ventusa.

  It was a few minutes after twelve when she saw him walking down the street, pushing through the crowd, a man different from all the others walking in the street. She frowned when she saw the pretty secretary with him. Marjorie hated this girl but she was helpless and could only hate all the others who seemed close to Robert Holton.

  She pretended to be busy cleaning a table when they came in.

  “Hello, Marjorie,” said Holton and he and Caroline came over to her table.

  “Oh, hello, it’s you again.” She made herself sound matter-of-fact and bored, but her throat was suddenly full and she had to clear it before she could speak again. “What you going to eat today?”

  “I don’t know,” said Holton and he and Caroline sat down at the table, across from each other. “What do you want, Caroline?”

  “I’d like to see a menu, I think,” said Caroline in a voice that Marjorie Ventusa would like to have choked out of her.

  “Here,” said Marjorie and she handed them two white menus.

  They studied the menus.

  Many people were coming in and going out of the restaurant. All the tables were full now and there were people standing and waiting for tables. Some of her customers were beginning to look at her, waiting for her to take their order. She hoped Mrs Merrin would not notice how long she was taking with Robert Holton.

  “I think,” said Caroline, frowning a thin hair-wide frown, “I think I will have some tomato juice, and a lamb chop....”

  “No more lamb chops,” said Marjorie, trying to keep the triumph from her voice.

  The hair-wide frown became a scowl. “Then I’ll have the veal.”

  “Any vegetables?”

  “Yes, the spinach.”

  “You can have one other.”

  “That’s all.”

  And Marjorie thought, “the” spinach indeed. Why was it that when these people wanted to sound elegant they would talk about everything as “the”?

  “What do you want, Mr. Holton?” She wished that she had the nerve to call him Bob, the right to call him that.

  “Oh, I think I’ll take the same.”

  “Coffee, tea, or milk?” She said the words as though they were one word.

  They both asked for coffee and Marjorie went quickly out of the dining room and into the kitchen.

  There was much more steam in the kitchen now than there had been at breakfast; as the day passed the kitchen got hotter, and steamier, and the cooks got more irritable and Mrs Merrin more nervous and Marjorie Ventusa would become tired and sad.

  She called the new orders to the cook. Then she picked up two small glasses of tomato juice and put them on her tray. She fingered one of them a moment, thinking that soon he would be drinking from it. She enjoyed thinking of this, though it only made her desire stronger and her sadness greater.

  She didn’t want to go back yet. She hoped Mrs Merrin would not come into the kitchen for a while.

  But one of the swinging doors opened and Mrs Merrin walked into the kitchen. Quickly Marjorie picked up her tray and went back to the dining room.

  Caroline and Robert Holton were talking seriously and Marjorie, because of the noise of voices in the dining room, couldn’t hear what they were saying.

  They stopped talking as she came up
to them.

  “Here you are,” said Marjorie Ventusa brightly, putting the glasses of tomato juice on the table.

  Robert Holton smiled at her, showing his white even teeth.

  “Have you got a date for tonight?” asked Robert Holton.

  “You know I always do.”

  “A sailor maybe?”

  “I’m not saying.”

  “Get one who’ll take you to Italy.”

  This was cruel but Marjorie smiled and forgave him. She had not been joking when they spoke of Italy. She did not think it fair of him to say this in front of the pretty girl, but Marjorie forgave him because he was young and because she felt about him in a certain way.

  “Maybe we’ll go to Capri together,” she said. “Is it nice there?”

  Holton nodded. “Beautiful.”

  Caroline said, “I’m sure you don’t want to take up any more of her time, Bob. She’s got a lot of things to do.” Caroline gave Marjorie a brilliant smile. A man from the table next to theirs said loudly, “When are you bringing me my soup?”

  “In just a minute, sir.” Marjorie looked at Robert Holton once again, tried to catch his eye but he was talking now to Caroline and Marjorie Ventusa had been put quietly from his mind. She went back to the kitchen.

  Outside the restaurant Richard Kuppelton and the receptionist Ruth were wondering whether anybody they knew would be in the restaurant; otherwise they would have to wait for a table.

  Kuppelton looked through the window. He blinked near-sightedly. Then he saw Robert Holton and Caroline.

  “Caroline’s in there,” he said.

  “With Bob?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, let’s go on in.” Ruth liked Robert Holton.

  “Hello, hello,” said Kuppelton heartily when they were inside.

  Caroline and Robert Holton appeared glad to see them.

  “My gracious, it certainly is crowded,” said Ruth, pointing to the people standing.

  “Lucky you people were here,” said Kuppelton.

  “I don’t,” said Ruth, “see how the town stays so crowded all the time. I could understand it during the war but now...well, it’s just impossible to go anywhere or do anything.”

  “I know,” said Holton. “Took me months to get a room.”