The Novels of William Goldman

by William Goldman

  “Homosexual.”

  Shoving his hands deep into his pockets, he ambled on. He felt curiously empty. No, not curiously. It was what he always felt. Emptiness. Nothing. Neither rage nor joy nor shimmering pain. Nothing. He felt nothing. He was moving now toward the center of the great field across from the company, dust kicking up all around him, stinging his face. Aaron closed his eyes and walked in darkness for a while.

  Look on the bright side, faggot. Goodbye to self-delusion. You can run for office with a slogan like that: goodbye to self-delusion. Hell, you can be a king with a slogan like that. Maybe not a king. A queen, then. Eyes closed, Aaron howled. All the lying he had done, all the perverting of truth and fact, all in the desperate attempt to prove without question to himself that he wasn’t what he so obviously was.

  “I’m a fáy-reeee,” Aaron shouted at the wind.

  Homosexual was an ugly word, five ugly syllables, ho-mo-sex-u-al, but the synonyms were just as ugly. Ugly. Why didn’t they have a prettier word for it? Like wisp. That was a pretty word. Aaron Fire is a wisp. That wasn’t nearly so bad. Aaron opened his eyes a moment. Dust broke across his vision in great sheets now as the wind grew stronger. Closing his eyes quickly, he wrapped his bony arms around his bony body and threw his head back. Aaron began to shout.

  “Kuh-weeeeer. I’m kuh-weeer.”

  “A perrr-verrt.”

  “Suh-wisssh.”

  “Faaaaaaaaag.”

  The wind picked up. In the center of the great field, Aaron began turning around and around, disappearing, dry dust spotting his eyelids, caking his tongue.

  He reported to the orderly room on time the next morning. Sergeant Terry was already at work, going over some papers. Aaron hung up his cap and sat down. Terry glanced over at him.

  “Good day, Firestone.”

  Aaron nodded. “Sergeant Terry.”

  “I’m afraid I’ve got a lot of work for you this morning.” He handed some papers to Aaron. “Original and five. Think you can handle it?”

  “I imagine.”

  “A gold star for you, Firestone,” Sergeant Terry said. He stretched, yawning. Then he moved to the door. “I’m off to do battle with the nuts.” Walking outside, Terry took a whistle from his pocket and blew on it sharply three times. Eventually the troops began straggling out of their barracks, slowly moving into the company street, forming three uneven rows. Terry stood on the sidewalk watching them, shaking his head sadly. “Ye gods, gentlemen,” he said, “you’re killing me.”

  Aaron watched through the orderly-room window. Terry was walking in front of the troops now, scolding them, his long arms hanging limp at his sides, his stubby legs carrying him jerkily forward. All you need is a banana, Aaron thought. Terry the ape.

  That night they went to a motel. Terry was waiting for him in his car when he finished supper. Aaron got in quietly and they drove off post for a while. The motel was some fifteen miles distant, small and dirty, a series of peeling gray cubicles with a hand-painted “Vacancy” sign in front. Their cabin was filthy. Aaron found a cockroach scuttling down one side of the bathtub.

  He killed it slowly.

  The next day Aaron was eating lunch in the mess hall when Scudder jiggled up to him.

  “I’m getting my car,” Scudder said.

  Aaron went on eating.

  “They allow us cars in this company,” Scudder explained. “And I’m getting mine. I’m having it sent down. It’s a convertible.”

  Aaron continued to eat, staring at his tin tray. “What are you telling me for?”

  “Well ... uh ... whenever you want to ... uh ... use it, you can. Feel free.”

  Aaron looked up at the other boy. “You ought to know better than to go lending your car to anybody who wants it.”

  “Oh, I don’t lend it to just anybody. Only special friends.”

  “Scudder, you and I are not special friends.”

  “We could be.”

  “Not bloody likely.” Aaron resumed eating. “You’re a slob, Scudder.”

  Branch laughed. “If you ever want to go anyplace,” he finished, “feel free.”

  “Thanks. Now will you let me finish eating?”

  “You don’t want me to stay and talk to you? I can.” Aaron glared at the other boy. Branch smiled. “See you, Aaron,” he said. Then, for no reason at all—there was only four feet between them—he waved.

  Again, that night, Aaron accompanied Terry to a motel. A different motel this time, a few miles farther from post. “Caution,” Terry explained it. This motel was older than the previous one, but just as badly kept. As they walked to their cabin Aaron lit a cigarette.

  Terry opened the door to the cabin. “Come on,” he said.

  “I’m smoking.”

  “You can smoke in here.”

  “I know that.”

  “I’m waiting, Aaron.”

  “Do you good,” Aaron told him. He finished his cigarette, grinding it out in the dust. Then he went inside.

  Later, when they were going back to the car, Terry touched him. It was dark and Terry reached out, putting a thick hand on Aaron’s shoulder.

  Aaron spun around, throwing the hand off. “Don’t ever do that!”

  “Do what?”

  “Lay a hand on me in the open.”

  Terry shrugged, looking around. The motel was quiet. “You see anybody?”

  “I won’t warn you again,” Aaron said.

  Terry smiled at him. “I don’t get you.”

  “That’s right. And you never will.”

  The following night, Thursday, as Aaron was washing up in the latrine, getting ready for bed, Branch came in.

  Aaron groaned. “What is it this time, Scudder?”

  “Nothing. I just wanted to ask you a question, that’s all.”

  “Do I have to answer?”

  Branch smoothed his thinning hair. “I was just ... uh ... wondering if ... uh ... if you liked movies?”

  Aaron dried his hands and face. “I love movies. I’m a movie nut. I plan to write some if I ever have the time.” He slung his towel over his shoulder and left the latrine, walking toward his bunk.

  Branch followed him. “The reason I asked was that there’s this terrific movie playing in Capital City on Saturday night.”

  “There is, huh?”

  “Yes. A revival of Bicycle Thief. It’s an Italian movie. De Sica directed it.”

  “I know who directed it.”

  “Have you seen it?”

  “No.”

  “Let’s go, then. Saturday night.”

  “It’s fifty miles to Capital City.”

  “I’ve got a car. Remember?” He was speaking quickly now. “We can just go on in and see it. The two of us. I think it’ll be fun. Hey. You know what? We can have dinner in Capital City. They’ve got some good restaurants in there. I’ve been told that.”

  “I’m a little low on funds right now, Scudder.”

  “Oh, I’ll pay. I’ll pay for everything. Dinner and the movie. Everything. It’ll be worth it to me. We can get good and acquainted. I’m looking forward to it already.”

  “You rich?”

  Branch laughed. “Not so much rich as spoiled. I’m spoiled. Rosie gives me pretty much whatever I want.”

  “Rosie?”

  “My mother. Rosie, I call her.”

  “Cute,” Aaron said.

  “How about it? You want to go?”

  “Will you quit pestering me if I do?”

  “Maybe.”

  Aaron did not hesitate. “Sure, Scudder. As long as you’re paying for it, I’ll tag along.”

  “Good,” Branch said. “You just leave everything to me. I’ll take care of everything. Good.” He turned and hurried out of the barracks.

  Fifteen minutes later he was back.

  “Scudder, old buddy,” Aaron said. “What a pleasant surprise.”

  “I was just thinking,” Branch began.

  “I find that highly doubtful.”

 
“It’s a long drive back at night after the movie.”

  “You’re right. Let’s forget the whole thing.”

  “No, no. That’s not what I meant. What I meant was ... uh ... that ... well ... uh ... Regency House is in Capital City and that’s one of the best hotels in the whole country. It is. I know that for a fact. They’ve got gorgeous suites in Regency House. Big and spacious. With a view of the river. Some of them even have terraces.”

  “So?”

  “We could spend the night in one of those suites. And then Sunday we could drive back. Or we could look around Capital City and then drive back, whichever you wanted.”

  “They’re probably all booked up by this time, Scudder.”

  Branch shook his head.

  “How do you know?”

  Branch laughed. “Because I just made a reservation. Not two minutes ago. That’s how.”

  Whenever Aaron turned the next day, Scudder was there. He popped in while Aaron was shaving. “Don’t forget about tomorrow, Aaron. Remember now.” And again at breakfast. “We’re going to have fun, Aaron. You’ll see.” And he was there at lunch and at supper.” I can hardly wait for that movie to start. Can you?” And when Aaron came back late at night after having been with Terry, Scudder was sitting on his bunk, waiting. “Saturday can’t come soon enough for me. Twelve o’clock tomorrow we take off. That’s just—” and he consulted his watch—“just thirteen hours from now.”

  And then Saturday came.

  Aaron worked in the morning, typing. At noon he left the orderly room and walked slowly through the heat to his barracks. Going inside, he sat down on his bunk, unbuttoning his shirt, slowly starting to make the change into civilian clothes. He was almost finished when Scudder came in. Scudder was wearing dark pants, a blue seersucker jacket; he seemed less flabby than usual. Aaron nodded to him.

  “Let’s go, let’s go,” Branch said. “God, you’re a slowpoke. I’ve got my pass already. Sergeant Terry just gave it to me. Have you got yours yet?”

  “No. Not yet.”

  “Shall I go get it for you? It’ll save us some time.”

  “I’ll get it myself.”

  “O.K. But hurry up.”

  “I’m ready.”

  “Well, let’s go to the orderly room for your pass.”

  “Where’s your car?”

  “In the parking lot.”

  “Go there. Take this.” Aaron handed him his overnight bag. “I’ll meet you.”

  They left the barracks, stopping for a moment in the heat.

  “I can go to the orderly room with you. It’s no trouble.”

  “No,” Aaron said. “I’ll meet you at the car.”

  “Well ...”

  “Go on!”

  Aaron watched as Scudder moved away. He took a deep breath. Then he started slowly toward the orderly room, aware of the pounding of his heart. As he drew near he saw two trainees standing inside, so he stopped. He lit a cigarette. The trainees were talking to Terry. Aaron waited. The sun was very warm and he was perspiring heavily. He wiped his forehead. Finally the other trainees left the orderly room. Aaron flicked his cigarette away. Taking a deep breath, he walked inside.

  “Well, well, well,” Sergeant Terry said. “All dressed up.” He was seated at his desk, the box of passes in front of him.

  “I’d like my pass, please, Sergeant Terry.”

  “Going someplace, Firestone?”

  “That’s right.” It was hot in the room. Aaron dried the palms of his hands on his trouser legs.

  “Where, may I ask? It’s my business to know. After all, I’m first sergeant.”

  “Capital City.”

  “That sounds like fun.”

  Aaron nodded.

  “A little rest and relaxation, Firestone? That what you’re after?”

  “I’d like my pass, please.”

  “Certainly,” Terry said. “Right away.” He rummaged through the box for a while. Then he looked up, shaking his head. “I’m sorry, Firestone. I can’t seem to find your pass here.”

  “Give it to me.”

  Terry smiled. “I just told you. You haven’t got one. I’m afraid you’re not going anyplace just now.”

  “I’m waiting.”

  “Glad to have the company.”

  “Game’s over,” Aaron said. “Let’s have it.”

  Terry stood. “Aaron,” he began.

  “You’d better give me my pass, Sergeant Terry.”

  “Aaron, listen—”

  “I mean that.”

  Terry walked over close to him, his rough voice low. “I had plans for tonight.”

  “Change them.”

  “We’ve been together every evening.”

  “Not anymore.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I said so.”

  The ape face began clouding. “Who is it?”

  “Who is what?”

  “You’re going to Capital City with somebody. Who?”

  “Scudder.”

  “Scudder?” Terry forced a laugh. “That fat-ass?”

  “Correct.”

  “Why? Why Scudder? What’s Scudder’s attraction?”

  “Money,” Aaron answered. “As simple as that.”

  Terry’s voice was loud again. “You a prostitute all of a sudden?”

  “That’s the word.”

  Terry was about to speak when suddenly he smiled, turning back toward his desk. Three recruits walked into the orderly room. “Gentlemen,” Terry said.

  “We’d like our passes,” one of them said.

  “Of course you would.” Aaron moved to a corner of the room, waiting. “Now you’ll have to sign out,” Terry went on. “First and last names both. You all know your first and last names?” One of the three laughed. Terry gave them their passes, watching as they signed their names in the register. The three recruits left the orderly room. Terry stared after them until they were gone. Then he turned, walking up to Aaron. “We were speaking of prostitutes,” Sergeant Terry said.

  “I’m sick of cockroaches. You may love them but I don’t. I’m sick of cheap motels. I’m sick of sneaking around at night like a freak fresh from a sideshow. And, if you want to know the truth, most of all, I’m sick of you.”

  Terry hit him.

  It was not a hard blow. Aaron managed to turn his head in time so that the thick fist only brushed his face. But it was enough to split the skin. Aaron’s lip began bleeding. He jammed his tongue into the cut, tasting blood. “That was a mistake, Sergeant Terry. You just miscalculated.”

  “Aaron ...”

  The heat in the room was oppressive. Sweat streamed down Aaron’s face as he fought to keep his voice under control. “If you ever so much as come near me again—ever!—you’re through. I mean it, Ape. I swear to God I’ll report you. I’ll go running up to the doctors and I’ll cry like a baby and I’ll tell them what you are. I’ll tell them everything and you know what that means? They don’t like faggots in the Army, Ape. They’ll discharge us both dishonorably. Well, I don’t give a shit. But you do. You’d be lost without the Army to mother you. We both know that. Right, Sergeant Terry? Right, Phil?”

  Terry said nothing.

  Aaron’s voice was rising, out of control. “I’m going to hit you back, Phil. Now. And you’re going to let me. You’ve got no choice. Apes have no choice in this world. None. And you’re an ape.” Aaron swung his open hand at Terry’s face, slapping his mouth. “Ape,” and he swung again, backhanded, catching the mouth a second time. “Ape, ape,” Aaron cried, whipping his hand back and forth, lashing the other man’s mouth.

  Terry stood still.

  “Now we can both taste blood,” Aaron said. “Like it?” He swung again, then dropped his arm. “Now give me my pass.”

  Terry did not move.

  Aaron crossed to the box, grabbed his pass and signed the register. He moved to the doorway. “Thanks for the pass, Sergeant Terry. Have a good weekend yourself, now.” Terry stared at him, frozen.
Aaron opened the door, smiling. “I have an overdeveloped sense of vengeance. I should have told you that.”

  Aaron slammed the door.

  He took a few steps in the sunshine before he realized he was on the verge of fainting. He tried closing his eyes, but that was worse. Cursing aloud, he forced his body forward through the heat toward the parking lot.

  Branch was waiting in the convertible.

  Aaron opened the door and sat down heavily, leaning back, staring at the sky.

  Branch looked at him. “Your lip is bleeding.”

  “Family trait.”

  “What?”

  “Some people get bloody noses. We Firestones get bloody lips.” Branch was about to speak again when Aaron cut him off. “Drive!”

  Branch drove.

  The suite was lovely. As Aaron followed the bellboy into the enormous front room, he smiled. The bellboy put their overnight bags down and nodded. Branch tipped him. The bellboy muttered thanks and closed the door. Aaron moved to the large picture windows and looked out at the river beyond. Turning, he walked through the bath to the adjoining bedroom. It, too, had a view of the river.

  “Very fine,” Aaron said, coming back into the front room. “Very fine.”

  “I told you, didn’t I?”

  “Yes, Scudder. You told me. Which room do you want?”

  “Well ... uh ...”

  “Take this room. It’s bigger.”

  “No. You take it.”

  “You’re paying, Scudder. Get a little value for your money.”

  “Would ... uh ... you like a drink? I’ve got some Scotch in my overnight bag.”

  “Isn’t it a little early?”

  “Not for Scotch. Never for Scotch.”

  “I’m going to shower first,” Aaron said. “Maybe later.” He picked up his bag and walked into the bathroom. Undressing, he turned on the shower and quietly locked the door. The water beat against the tiles.

  Aaron waited. Finally the doorknob began to turn slowly. Aaron watched. The door was being pushed now. The lock held. Quietly the doorknob slid back to its original position.

  Laughing out loud, Aaron let the water cleanse him.

  When he was done, he dried himself off and went to his bedroom. Pulling a sheet from the cool bed, he wrapped it around himself carefully. Then he examined himself in the mirror. Chin high, body straight, he looked, he thought, very much the Roman emperor. Unlocking the bathroom door, he entered the front room.