The Deep End

by Fredric Brown

  Why, I wondered, had I gone that far, been that elaborate. Now, if I leveled with her, it was going to be tougher to explain and I’d have to admit that I’d lied to her just now as well as earlier in the week.

  Nina put her head on my shoulder. “Well, I don’t know him personally except just to speak to. But he’s so popular, so prominent at the school that the teachers talk about him a lot, almost as much as the students. Of course being a football hero is enough, in a school. But being so personally attractive and such a brilliant student besides being an athletic hero–well, it makes him pretty unusual.”

  “Just how brilliant a student is he? Leads his class?”

  “I think he easily could if he wanted to. His average is in the top ten per cent, and that’s without studying very hard. He can’t put in much time on studying with all the other activities and athletics he goes in for. And he admits he doesn’t study much.”

  I said, “A high school boy doesn’t admit that, he brags about it. But here’s what I’m really digging for. He’s too good to be true; there’s got to be a flaw, a fault somewhere, or I just can’t believe him. Nobody’s perfect, and one boy can’t have just everything. I think he’s queer.”

  “You think–what?”

  “All right, it’s a guess. But there’s something to base it on anyway. Grace Smith–that’s the classmate of his I talked to Saturday morning while we thought he was dead, and she was all broken up about it, incidentally–said he not only didn’t have a steady girl, but usually went stag to parties. And–” I started to say that the time I’d seen him in the wolf’s-head jalopy the two other boys had had girls and Obie hadn’t, but I changed it. “–I’ve heard the same thing from other places. It isn’t normal, is it, for a boy with a whole school full of girls mad over him not to take advantage of some of it. Especially one as well developed and mature for his age as Obie. If he isn’t queer, then he’s sexually retarded.”

  “But at seventeen, Sam, you hadn’t– At least you told me I was the first, and that was in our senior year and we were both eighteen then.”

  “True, and I wasn’t kidding you. But dammit I went with girls, dated ’em, long before then. Generally I was going steady with someone, and I never stagged a party in my life.”

  Nina’s shoulder, against mine, was shaking. I turned and looked at her; she was giggling. “What’s funny about that?” I wanted to know. “You know it’s perfectly true.”

  “I wasn’t laughing about that, Sam, not about what you said about yourself. But–Sam, if I tell you something that’s a secret, will you promise never to– You’re not planning to write anything about Obie, are you?”

  “Nope.”

  “And you won’t tell this to anyone? Word of honor?”

  “Cross my heart and hope to die.”

  “I was laughing at how wrong you were about Obie. A little over a year ago, near the end of his sophomore year, he got into a little trouble for seducing a maid they had working for them at the house, the Westphal home. And he’d have been only sixteen then; he beat your record by two years. That’s what I was giggling about. Your thinking he was queer.”

  “So I was wrong. I’ve been wrong before. Who was he in trouble with? And how did the school get in on it if it’s something that happened at home?”

  “I didn’t mean trouble really, except with his parents. The girl didn’t go to the police or anything like that–and anyway she probably seduced him; she was older. But Mama Westphal was so worried about it that she came to the principal of the school for advice.”

  “Old Emerson? Must have shocked the bejesus out of him. What did he tell her?”

  “It wasn’t Mr. Emerson. Probably luckily for everybody concerned. He’s still principal there, Sam, but he was out for a few months right about then, in the hospital for an operation–gall bladder trouble; he was quite ill for a while. The school board sent us a younger man, Ralph Sherbourne, to take over during those months. Mama Westphal talked to him about it and he was modern and sensible enough to tell her it was nothing to worry about. That while he didn’t condone it, there was nothing abnormal about a boy of sixteen having his first affair with an older woman.”

  I thought of Constance Bonner. I asked, “How much older?”

  “I believe she was twenty-five or thereabouts. And there was a question whether she seduced Obie or he seduced her, and it wasn’t anything serious anyway.”

  I said, “And Obie at sixteen was probably a couple of years ahead of his age in physical development. Right now at seventeen he could probably pass for twenty, somebody told me. But go on, if there’s any more you know about it. I’m interested.”

  “There isn’t much more. Ralph calmed down Mama Westphal and told her he’d have a heart-to-heart talk with Obie. And he did and Obie was sorry about it and promised to behave himself.”

  “Did you ever see the girl, the maid? Or a picture of her?”

  “Of course not. Where would I see her? Why do you ask that, Sam?”

  “Wondering something. Oedipus. The girl was probably the same physical type as Obie’s mother.”

  “Maybe. I suppose it could be that. I’ve never seen Obie’s mother either. I wasn’t there the day she came in. But if Obie takes after her, she must be good-looking. Have you ever seen Obie, Sam?”

  “No,” I said. “Just a picture of him in football costume that was in the file on him at the Herald, along with the sports stories we’d run on him. And you can’t tell much from a picture of somebody in football clothes and helmet.”

  “I’ve got a copy of last year’s school annual,” Nina said. “There are several pictures of him in it. Want to see them?”

  I’d seen them last night at the school, or at least the ones in the Drama Club section, but I couldn’t very well say so now. So I said yes, I’d like to see them.

  She had only to lean forward to get the annual. It was on the bottom shelf of the coffee table in front of us, with some magazines and other books.

  “Our drinks are all,” I said. “Let’s make another before we look at that. He’s probably in it a dozen times and it’ll take a little while to leaf through it.”

  “All right, but this one had better be our last. I’m feeling them.”

  “Good. Glad they’re not being wasted. I’m feeling mine too.”

  We made us each another drink.

  Then I watched while Nina leafed through the book, stopping whenever there was a group photograph that included Obie–and he was in quite a few of them. He stood out in every group, too; you couldn’t miss him. I saw again the three group pictures of Drama Club casts that included Obie.

  I asked Nina, “Is he as good at acting as at everything else?”

  “Good for an amateur. I saw all of those plays, as it happens.”

  The last picture of Obie in the book was the best one I’d seen yet, an eighth-page portrait shot among the pictures of class officers.

  Nina closed the book and put it back under the coffee table.

  “Nina,” I said, “how many people know what you told me about Mrs. Westphal’s asking for advice about Obie’s affair with that girl? Is it general knowledge among the teachers there?”

  “Why–no, Sam.” She moved away from me a little. “Aside from Ralph Sherbourne, I’m the only one at the school who knew about it. He told me later. And you’ll guess why he happened to talk about it to me, so I might as well tell you. Do I have to add anything to that, spell it out for you?”

  I pulled her back against me again, both arms around her this time. I said, “Of course not. It’s none of my business, Nina.”

  She snuggled against me. “I told you I’d had affairs, a few of them. And Ralph was one of those few. And he was single and wanted me to marry him. Maybe I should have, but–well, he’s a nice guy but I just didn’t love him enough to sign a life contract. Damn it, Sam, maybe the
only men I can really love are ones I can’t have. Do you still want to kiss me, Sam?”

  I answered without words. After a while she pulled away gently just enough to free her lips for talking. “Sam, I shouldn’t, but I’ll have one more drink if you will. I guess I slept too much last night; I just can’t get tired.”

  We made the drinks and this time I sat in the easy chair and pulled her down into my lap.

  After a while I said, “Darling, must I go home tonight? It’s so damned lonesome there and I hate it. I didn’t sleep much last night in spite of going to bed early. Can I sleep with you, even if I have to behave myself?”

  She turned her head so I could see her smile. “Will you wear a pair of my pajamas?”

  “I will not. But you can. And I’ll sleep in my shorts. That’s two layers of insulation.”

  “All right, Sam, yes, I want you to stay.”

  Later, in bed, I held her tightly.

  “Do you think I’m a wanton woman Sam?”

  “Of course not.”

  “But I feel like one. Right now. And I’m not very sick, darling; it was mostly a false alarm. Do you want me, Sam?”

  God how I’d been wanting her.

  Later, I remember saying, “Nina darling, I love you, I love you.” Or words to that effect.

  SATURDAY

  1

  I woke too early again. Not from a dream this time; if I’d been dreaming I didn’t remember. Faint gray at the windows, probably about half past five, Daylight Saving Time, maybe six. Nina had set her mental alarm clock for eight, saying that would give her time for her nine o’clock appointment and that I could sleep longer if I wished and leave as late as I wanted to.

  But here again after only a few hours of sleep I was wide awake and knew that I wasn’t going back to sleep no matter how hard I tried. And Nina is a light sleeper; I couldn’t get up without waking her too. Besides, if I did get up, what could I do?

  I lay there and stared at the barely visible ceiling. No horsefly circling there. Just my thoughts again. Why hadn’t I told Nina the truth last night? Just force of habit, maybe; I’d been lying so much this last week that the truth didn’t come naturally any more, not in explaining my reason for asking questions about Obie. Well, it didn’t matter; Nina had talked plenty about him, maybe even more freely than she would have if I’d told her my suspicions and she’d thought them ridiculous. As she no doubt would have. Apparently Obie was damned attractive even to women Nina’s age. In fact–

  Whoa, I told myself, don’t get a wild suspicion like that. Not about Nina.

  But there was the Suspicion sitting on the foot of the bed grinning at me, a nasty grin.

  “Go away,” I told it.

  “How about the way she giggled when you wondered whether Obie was queer or not?”

  I glared at the Suspicion. “Why shouldn’t she giggle? She knew it wasn’t true!”

  “Right, my naive friend. She knew it wasn’t true. But would the matter have seemed so funny to her if she had that knowledge third hand? And Nina isn’t the giggly type. In fact, you never heard her giggle before–not since high school days anyway. But if she’d had an affair with him and he was a pretty virile guy, as he probably is, maybe twice or three times as much so as you are, then your suddenly suggesting he might be homosexual would have been really funny to her, so much so that a giggle just had to pop out and she couldn’t stop it.”

  “But she explained how she knew! Do you think she could make up a circumstantial story like that on a second’s notice?”

  “I doubt if she made it up. Probably there was such a substitute principal and he did have an affair with Nina–maybe he even really wanted to marry her, although that could have been embroidery. And probably the servant girl business and Mrs. Westphal’s trip to the school really did happen. Don’t you see why that makes it all the more likely?”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “Because you don’t want to see. Ordinarily Nina would never have thought of having an affair with a seventeen-year-old. But after knowing that he’d already had an affair–at least one affair–with a woman approximately her age, she’d look at Obie with new eyes, wouldn’t she? And she admits she found him damned attractive–and there’d have been curiosity too, wondering what he’d be like in bed. Curiosity gets women into more affairs than passion does.”

  I said, “You’re crazy. But at least the Constance Bonner business makes sense now. She must have been having an affair with Obie. And that’s why she made an excuse to stay at the school after the Drama Club meeting. He came back for a clandestine date with her. Since she was living with her parents that was about the only place–”

  “Nina isn’t living with parents. She’s got this–”

  “Shut up. I’m thinking about Constance Bonner. This accounts for that part about her having been acting strangely, being depressed. If she’d become seriously entangled emotionally with someone she couldn’t possibly marry. … But Obie killed her. He didn’t kill Nina. Doesn’t that prove–”

  “You know it doesn’t. He doesn’t have to kill every woman he makes. Just if a perfect opportunity pops up, maybe, like a woman who can’t swim standing at the edge of the deep end of a swimming pool where a push will kill her. Or maybe he had a sane motive for killing Constance and led her to the pool deliberately. Maybe he was through with her and she wouldn’t let go and she was threatening him with something.”

  “What does it matter? Anyway, you’re just trying to change the subject. We were wondering about Nina and Obie, remember?”

  “I still say you’re crazy. Nina isn’t that kind of a girl.”

  “How long did it take you to make her? Met her Monday noon and slept here Monday night. And don’t give me that stuff about having been sweethearts in school. That was a long time ago.”

  “Nuts. And anyway, you’re building an awful lot on one giggle.”

  “You know there’s more than that, now that you think about it. The way she talked about him, described him. The fact that she has that school annual with all the pictures of him–and knew where they were. She hasn’t got school annuals for other years since you and she were students there, has she? Just that one, and it’s got a lot of pictures of Obie in it. Don’t you think she might have bought it for that reason?”

  “There could be other reasons,” I said.

  “Name one. And that annual is only two months or so off the presses, by the way. Her affair with Obie could have been quite recent. How do you like that thought? Obie may have been in this bed with her within a month or so. Maybe they just broke it off before you met her–and you got her on the rebound. From Obie. Isn’t that nice to think about?”

  “Get out. Get away from me.”

  “You know I never will, until you know for sure one way or the other. I’ll be with you all my life.”

  “But I won’t believe you.”

  “Of course you won’t, but you’ll always wonder. And you’ll keep remembering other little things. She called Mrs. Westphal Mama Westphal, a kind of humorous deprecation, although she never met her. Where’d she pick that up, huh? She saw all of the plays of the Drama Club that Obie played in last year. Adults seldom go to high school plays unless they have relatives in the cast–or something.”

  “But she works there.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Plenty of chance to come in contact with him. And remember our figuring out this Oedipus stuff? That means Obie would pick women of the same general physical type as his mother, ones who remind him of her in some way. And Nina’s the size and build for that, same color hair, same shaped face. Same general type as the Bonner woman, too, as far as you could tell from a portrait photograph. Never thought of that till just now, did you? And you’ll keep thinking of other little things and–”

  I said, “Get out.” ’

  The Suspicion laughed at me.


  I turned my head and looked at Nina.

  The Suspicion said, “Go ahead and wake her up, make love to her. And if she happens to close her eyes while it’s going on, as she usually does, you’ll wonder whether she’s pretending that it’s Obie again instead of only you. Some fun, huh?”

  I swore. I said, “You won’t get me to do what you want me to do. Those journals of Nina’s–”

  “It would be a lousy trick to look in them, sure. Even if you just skimmed, looking for one thing, and tried not to read or remember anything else. But you’re going to do it.”

  “Are you sure of that?”

  “Sure I’m sure. Because now that you’ve got me it’ll be an even dirtier trick if you don’t. Because that’s the only way you can ever get rid of me and you know it. Do you love Nina?”

  “I–don’t–know.”

  “Last night you thought you did. You told her you did. But you never can love her again unless you find out I’m wrong. And is it fair to Nina for you to change toward her because of a nasty Suspicion like me, when you can get rid of me forever by skimming through one or two of those diaries?”

  “But what if I can’t find–?”

  “Don’t worry, you’ll find it if it’s there. If there’s anything at all about Obie there’ll be plenty about him and it won’t be hard to find even if she disguises the name. And you can love her in spite of anything else you might find there. You don’t care how many normal affairs she’d had in the last year or so. And you can skip this last week and not read anything she may have written about you”

  “All right, damn you.”

  “Just play possum now. It must be almost time for–”

  Nina woke and got out of bed. I played possum all right; as long as I did so that Suspicion sitting on the end of the bed would be invisible to Nina. If I talked to her she might see it, or at least guess that something was wrong.

  So I kept my eyes closed and didn’t move except to breathe while I heard her shower and dress, make herself breakfast and make a scratching noise with a pen that I guessed meant she was leaving a note for me.