‘Oh, Bernie’s interested in everybody. He’s a father figure for all the confused men on campus. Students come by all the time with their problems. He picks them out; he sees a crisis a mile ahead. Sometimes I really get tired with it all.’
‘What does he get out of it?’
‘Oh, I don’t know. I mean, he does get a real fulfilment. He’s a psychopomp, that’s what he calls himself. You know that word? I think he gets it from Jung. A soul-saver, or something. A man who leads the spirit onward. I love him, he’s all very marvellous, but it wears me down too. He’s so self-centred and so . . . male-oriented, do you know what I mean? I don’t mean he’s homosexual, so much, but he gets most of his pleasure from a sort of comradely doing things for people. And often for people in the abstract. He thinks of people as a group of one.’
Patrice drove the car off the road into a viewpoint where they could look down over the plain. The lights of Party shone in the distance, on the flat; then, in clusters, were the lights of other towns nearer, in parallel, beyond the one place he knew. It reminded him of the bigness of America and the number of its communities, a thing that, in Party, it had been easy to forget.
‘That’s what they crossed to get here,’ said Patrice. ‘That’s why it’s a special country.’
‘Maybe I have no business trying to speak to it.’
‘You know, Jamie, you don’t have to go where Bernie goes. Because if he thinks you will, he’ll take you.’
‘I know.’
‘You know what would be clever? For us not to make love now, because that’s what he wants.’
‘That’s hard,’ said Walker. Patrice looked outward and said, ‘I know. I’d want to. But not for him.’
‘Why does he want it?’
‘Oh, he wants you. He wants your head in his trophy room.’
‘But why?’
‘Lots of reasons. You’re a writer. And an English writer. And a man he admires and envies. It’d be better than just getting you down on paper.’
‘Would it have to be for that?’
‘Well, you’re the one who would know. You’d have to judge it for yourself. Just so that you aren’t reaching out for him, serving the situation he made . . .’ Walker sat silent. ‘Look,’ said Patrice, ‘I’ll drive into the Hofbrau parking lot and we’ll have that drink.’
‘The trouble is I don’t yet know the answer,’ said Walker. The car drove a hundred yards and pulled off the road again, beside a large, Swiss-roofed wooden lodge.
‘Look into your beer and think about it,’ said Patrice. They went inside. The Hofbrau had pine walls and elk and deer heads fixed in them over the tables. ‘Hey, it’s the fireman’s dance,’ said Patrice. ‘They’re buying a firetruck and this is for funds.’ A small band was playing folk-music and there were dancers in the middle of the floor. ‘Can you dance country-style?’ asked Patrice.
‘I’ll try,’ said Walker.
‘Just look at these heads on the wall,’ said Patrice, ‘and beware. Don’t be one, right?’ The dancers, local people, were whooping and sweating. Walker paid the admission and they went on to the floor.
‘Isn’t this great?’ said Patrice. ‘Just do it the way I do.’
‘Oh, hell,’ said Walker, not getting it. ‘I just have to walk around.’
‘Well, that’s fine, you walk divinely.’
‘Always did,’ said Walker. In a few moments the dance had exhausted him, and they went and sat down. A waiter in a white apron came by and they ordered drinks.
‘Tell me about your wife,’ said Patrice.
‘Why?’ asked Walker.
‘I’m interested, that’s why.’
‘Well, she’s a sort of big girl. She dominates me and until just recently I liked it. Then . . . well, as Hemingway might say, I didn’t like her any more. Except that’s not true. I liked her, I loved her, but I wanted to get free of all that. She doesn’t understand what I mean, so I’m having trouble convincing her that we ought to get divorced. We keep exchanging letters. I say “freedom” and she says “home, wife, child”. I don’t know who’ll win. I suppose it depends if I decide to stay here.’
‘And if they let you.’
‘Yes, there’s that. I suppose they could withdraw my visa.’
‘Well, Bernie thought of that, but he didn’t think it would get that big. He doesn’t want it to get big. Just big enough to clear a space for a bit more academic freedom. It’s like you. When the world says “oath” Bernie has to say “freedom”.’
‘Yes, like me.’
‘But what does it mean, this word, for you?’
‘Oh, not what it means for Bernard. Just really being among this air and in these mountains and having time to think and nothing insisting that it be thought about.’
‘Why, you’re a pioneer, a forty-niner,’ said Patrice.
‘A pioneer with loyalty oath problems. I suppose that was my mistake. I came to be detached and I’m far from that now. Even with you.’
‘I see,’ said Patrice, looking into her glass. ‘What’s that mean? That you don’t feel free of him down there?’
‘That I don’t feel free of anything down there. It’s not just Bernie. It’s just this thing of being staked around, fenced in, so that I don’t see any pure pleasures. The world breaks in every time. I’d like to think that the pure affections were the answer. But what kind of answer is that? I don’t have any means of wiping the slate clean. Which is what we’re both asking, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, I guess so. I’d like sex, I’d like love, to have that stature.’
‘Ah, yes, I would too. Personal relations, as they used to say. But what’s personal about relations? It always seems to end up as the cohabitation of losers. Two victims sharing groins.’
‘Well, I suppose that’s a beautiful remark in its way,’ said Patrice. ‘How about a more modest association of those parts, then? What I mean is, let’s dance.’
‘All right,’ said Walker, and they got up and exhausted themselves again.
‘The simple life,’ said Patrice. ‘I suppose those pioneers did this all the time. I know we all like to think so. Half the faculty have cabins up here to hunt for that old innocence. Think they find it?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Walker. ‘I don’t think I could.’
‘Maybe that’s your trouble. You just don’t believe in innocence. You carry complexity around like a stone round your neck. Nothing is allowed to be easy.’
‘Is it for anybody? Admitting that I’m particularly graceless in this respect.’
‘Hell, you’re graceless. I’ll never forget you walking away from that cop. I thought you’d break up into sections. And that’s what Bob Naughty said about you at the lecture. “I thought his head was going to come away from his body and they’d start an argument.” That’s what he said.’
‘Not exactly cool,’ said Walker.
‘No, not exactly cool. Look, try another drink and then we’ll go.’
‘I’m enjoying this.’
‘Well, so am I, but the party’s nearly over.’
‘Another couple of hours and I might have caught on to the style.’
‘Maybe,’ said Patrice, ‘but I think it takes more of a lifetime.’
Outside, when they went to the car, it was cool. A mountain torrent roared down beside the inn. ‘Like an ad for menthol cigarettes,’ said Patrice. They got in the car, looked at one another, and pushed their faces against each other to kiss. ‘Oh, nice,’ said Patrice, turning the ignition. She put the car into gear and they moved jerkily back. ‘You know what?’ said Patrice. ‘I’ve got a flat. We have to change the tyre.’ They got out again. ‘Can you do it?’ said Patrice.
‘I never have,’ said Walker.
‘Well, get the tools out of the trunk and let’s look. First you have to pry off the hub-cap.’ Walker did that all right, but when it came to turning the nuts he couldn’t manage.
‘Oh, let me,’ said Patrice. ‘You just keep levering up w
ith the jack.’
‘Mind,’ said Walker, ‘it’s coming out.’
‘Jesus,’ said Patrice, ‘you nearly killed me. Look, you just go and stand over there and look at the scenery. I’ll fix this.’
‘No,’ said Walker, ‘you’ll get dirty.’
‘I know I’ll get dirty, Jamie, but I want to do this by myself, okay?’ Walker went and stood looking dejectedly at the stream, seeing, not feeling, how beautiful it was, his genial spirits failing.
‘All right, it’s fixed,’ said Patrice after a while, ‘let’s go.’
‘I’m sorry,’ said Walker, ‘I’ve never had anything to do with cars.’
‘Primitive man,’ said Patrice. ‘Oh, you were some help. How does your tribe survive?’
‘Who says we survive?’ asked Walker.
‘God, I need a shower,’ said Patrice, driving fast but competently down the mountain road. On the flat country, she said, ‘Look back, see if you can see where they were.’
‘Oh dear,’ said Walker, ‘I’m a pillar of salt.’
Patrice reached over and ruffled his hair. ‘You really muddle your way through, don’t you?’ she said. ‘That’s what they always said to you in England: “Oh, you know, we muddled through.” They should tattoo that on your chest.’
When they reached the house, there was no one home. ‘Heigh-ho, nobody home. Meat and drink and money I have none . . .’ sang Patrice, and then said, ‘Fix yourself a drink. I’m going to take that shower.’ Walker fixed his drink by pouring some whisky into a glass. The shower stopped, and a minute later Patrice came out in Froelich’s Black Watch dressing gown. ‘Still no one here? I guess they went out driving in Bob’s car. It’s too cute not to be a plan.’
‘Same plan?’ asked Walker.
‘I guess so, yes,’ said Patrice, a bit unsteadily. ‘So. It’s what they call a moment of truth, in the business.’
‘Perhaps I should go,’ said Walker.
‘There’s a problem, though. You live here,’ said Patrice.
‘Oh,’ said Walker, ‘difficult, isn’t it?’
‘Yes,’ said Patrice. ‘You know, I wish you didn’t annoy me so much. I was really mad at you about that flat. And now I want to straighten the balance. It always happens that way in the States. Whenever you see two Americans having a quarrel, you know they’re getting all set to go to bed with one another. It’s what Bernie calls Verbal Fornication. It’s a relationship. Hostility is so much more friendly than total indifference. I guess we always explore our emotions first so that we can feel justified we aren’t being casual. Do you think we’re casual?’
‘Well, one of the things I notice about this country is that everything seems to be conducted in a perfumed haze of sexuality. You’re so much more aware of that emotion, that pull. Any American conversation seems to be about ten feet nearer the bed than any English one.’
‘I guess that’s true, in my experience,’ said Patrice. ‘And why? Why do we believe in it so much?’
‘It’s one of the things that are left. After all, with sex you really do get close to people, and people count, don’t they? It, well, extends the logic of conversation.’
‘Yes,’ said Patrice, running her hand through her hair. ‘Well, tell me, Jamie, are we going to extend our logic or not.’
With the kind of accidental subtlety that pursued all these encounters for Walker, the telephone rang. Patrice picked it up and listened. ‘That was Bernie,’ she said. ‘He’s spending the night at the Naughtys’. He’s had too much to drink.’
‘I thought it was something else, I thought he’d be coming home,’ said Walker.
‘Why?’
‘Oh, it’s usually like that with me.’
‘Well,’ said Patrice, ‘I guess we’d better make up your divan.’
‘All right.’ They made up the bed together.
‘Okay,’ said Patrice, ‘there’s your bed and through here’s mine. I’ll leave the door open if you want to tell me anything.’ She went into the bedroom.
Walker breathed hard and thought, thought of Miss Marrow on the ship, and about the style of his reluctance, and about his taste for the moral act, the act that asserted freedom from chance and irrationality and history. Then he went over and tapped on the door-frame of the bedroom. ‘Yes, I do have something to tell you,’ he said.
‘Shut the door and tell me.’
‘Well, I’d like to stay here with you,’ said Walker. He went unsteadily across the room to where she stood by the mirror; she turned to him and he kissed her. He felt down with his hand for the knot of the dressing gown and undid it; then felt beyond for the warmth inside. ‘Oh, God, Jamie,’ said Patrice. ‘But I’ll tell you, you’re being a fool.’
‘Don’t say that,’ said Walker.
At the bed she said, ‘Move Bernie’s pyjamas. He’s probably hiding in them.’
At about three in the morning, Walker heard a noise. He gently moved from under Patrice’s arm, which was across him, and tiptoed out into the living room. On the divan made up for Walker lay Bernard Froelich, breathing hard, his clothes tousled. His head turned and he seemed to look at Walker. ‘Hi hi,’ he murmured in a thick voice, but when Walker looked closer he saw he was fast asleep.
On the following Tuesday, Walker drove into the university with Froelich to meet his classes. On campus, many of the trees were now bare, the campanile stood out stark, and the convertibles now had their roofs up. ‘Only two weeks now to the Christmas vacation,’ said Froelich. ‘If anything’s going to happen, it’ll have to happen soon.’
When Walker went into the English Office to get his mail, the secretary looked up and said: ‘Dr Bourbon wants to see you, James. Will you go in?’
Walker knocked on Bourbon’s door. ‘Come right on in,’ cried Bourbon. He was sitting behind his desk, smoking his pipe, and when he saw Walker he let his body slide down in his chair behind his papers. ‘Ah, Mis’ Walker, mind if we have a little talk?’ he cried.
‘Not at all,’ said Walker.
‘Waal now, I just wanted to keep you pooped on the situation caused by your furore. There’s a few things bin happenin’. One of them is that the state legislature has sent President Coolidge a memo saying that he should either require you to sign the oath or fire you.’
‘I see,’ said Walker.
‘So President Coolidge sent back a memo saying that if you don’t sign he’ll refuse to renew your contract at the end of this year, that’s this academic year.’
‘But the contract was only for one academic year, wasn’t it?’
‘Well, that’s President Coolidge; he out-thinks people every time. So, we don’t know what’s goin’ to happen about that, but I’ll let you know what happens when it happens. Okay, well, the other thing is that the local chapter of the American Association of University Professors, that’s a kind of, you know, union, is discussin’ the matter noontime Friday in the Faculty Club. Figured you might want to be there. Are you a member? No? Waal, you have any friend you could send along?’
‘I’ll think of someone.’
‘Waal, it’s a sticky wicket, Mis’ Walker, and you know I wish it hadn’t never happened. But looks like the U’s tryin’ to look after you, and I hope you’re feelin’ mighty grateful. But this could get worse. We’re under fire from without and within. Without means the press, the townspeople, the state legislature. Within, waal, that’s all these here students who have protested to me, and some of the faculty. Number of the faculty have protested to the President ’bout your indiscretion.’
‘They have?’ asked Walker. ‘Who?’
‘Well, seems a pee-tition was started by a man you know.’
‘A man I know?’
‘Yes, by Dr Jochum.’
‘By Jochum? The man I came on the ship with?’
‘Yes, that’s right, Mis’ Walker.’
‘I can’t believe it.’
‘Well, frankly, that didn’t surprise me none. Jochum is an old campaigner for loyalty. But
I’ll tell you what did surprise me, and I guess you ought to know this. Pee-tition came round this department yesterday and I did hear, didn’t come to me a-tall but I did hear, that it was taken round by Mr Van Hart.’
‘Mr Van Hart in my office?’
‘That’s right. Waal, Mis’ Walker, I’m independent in all this, and I’m in a mighty difficult position, appointin’ you and lettin’ you not sign and all. But what all this means is that you’re in a mighty difficult position too. Pressure comes on too hard I may have to fire you, and that’s the truth, Mis’ Walker. We don’t fire easy here, but you don’t have tenure with us. I think we’re goin’ to be able to keep you for the rest of the year, and I don’t mind sayin’ I’ll support that. Spite of the trouble we’ve always had with writers. The U hasn’t forgotten Elvis Flea.’
‘Who’s that?’
‘That was the Creative Writin’ Fellow two years back. Said he was a poet. His trouble was seducin’. Story is he humped the faculty wives in alphabetical order. They got him in jail somewhere west of here, didn’t surprise no one. There’s a lot of people on this campus don’t ever want to see a writer here again. So . . . go careful, Mis’ Walker.’
Walker was so confused about these things as he went back to his office that he bumped hard into the water cooler and sent the paper-cups flying. ‘Go careful!’ The only person in the room was Froelich, making up a list of grades.
‘Bernard, you didn’t tell me about any petition,’ said Walker.
‘It’s not good for you to know everything,’ said Froelich. ‘You might get scared.’
‘Or the meeting on Friday.’
‘Which you can’t go to anyway. And even if you could I wouldn’t want you there, boy.’
‘Harris said it was Bill Van Hart who brought the petition round the department.’
‘That’s right, Bill did that.’
‘But why did he? I’m surprised at Bill . . .’
‘Guess it was because I told him to.’
Walker felt an enormous confusion. ‘But why did you do that?’
‘I can’t answer,’ said Froelich, scrawling F on a theme. ‘I plead the Fifth Amendment.’
Walker sat down in his chair and made it spin round to match his wonderment.
Stepping Westward Page 34
