Nine Stories

by J. D. Salinger

>> He crossed his heavy legs, at the ankles. <<
  So this is absolute manna to me.>>> Though his speaking voice was, in the usual connotation, well bred, it carried considerably more than adequately, as though he had some sort of understanding with himself that anything he had to say would sound pretty much all right--intelligent, literate, even amusing or stimulating--either from Teddy's vantage point or from that of the people in the row behind, if they were listening. He looked obliquely down at Teddy, and smiled. <<>> he asked. His smile was not unpersonable, but it was social, or conversational, and related back, however indirectly, to his own ego. <<>> he asked, smiling.

  <<
  The young man laughed, letting his head go back. <<>>

  Teddy shifted his weight over to one hip and stashed his notebook in the side pocket of his shorts.

  <<
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  Teddy looked at him. <<>>

  Nicholson nodded, smiling. <<>> he asked conversationally. <<>>

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  Teddy suddenly reached forward and scratched the calf of his leg. <<>> He sat back. <<>>

  <<>>

  <<>> Teddy said.

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  Teddy looked at him directly for the first time. <<>> he asked.

  <<>> Nicholson said. <<>>

  <<>>

  Nicholson, smiling, reached into his jacket pocket and took out cigarettes and matches. <<>>

  Teddy apparently didn't hear him, or wasn't listening. He was looking abstractedly toward, or over, the twin smokestacks up on the Sports Deck.

  Nicholson got his cigarette lit, with some difficulty, for there was a light breeze blowing from the north. He sat back, and said, <<>>

  " `Nothing in the voice of the cicada intimates how soon it will die,' " Teddy said suddenly. "'Along this road goes no one, this autumn eve.>>>' <<>> Nicholson asked, smiling. <<>>

  <<
  <<>>

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  <<>> He took a drag on his cigarette. <<>>

  <<>>

  Nicholson flicked his cigarette ash off to one side. <<>> he said.

  Teddy reflected before answering. <<
  he said. <<>>

  <<>> Nicholson asked, with a little excess of quietness. <<>>

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  <<>>

  <<>>

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  Teddy thought it over. <<>> he asked, turning to Nicholson.

  <<
  <<
  They love their reasons for loving us almost as much as they love us, and most of the time more. It's not so good, that way.>>> He turned toward Nicholson again, sitting slightly forward. <<>> he asked. <<>>

  <<
  <<>> Nicholson let one leg drop over the side of the deck chair, leaned forward, and stepped on his cigarette end. <<>>

  <<>>

  <<>> He crossed his heavy, outstretched legs again. <<>>

  <<>>

  <<efore final Illumination. Is that right, or am I-->>>

  <<>> He took his arms down from the armrests, and tucked his hands, as if to keep them warm, under his thighs. <<>>

  Nicholson was looking at him, studying him. <<>>

  <<
  Teddy said. <<>>

  Nicholson didn't say anything.

  <<>>

  Nicholson nodded. <<>> he said. <<>>

  <<>>

  Nicholson took out his cigarettes again, but without taking his eyes off Teddy. <<>> he asked, and gave a short laugh. <<>>

  <<>> He shifted in his seat and took out an eyesore of a handkerchief--a gray, wadded entity--and blew his nose. <<>> He put away his handkerchief, and looked at Nicholson. <<>> he asked.

  <<>>

  <<>>

  Nicholson raised his forearm an inch or two above the level of the armrest. <<>>

  he asked.

  Teddy nodded. <<>> he asked.

  <<>>

  <<>> Teddy asked. <<>>

  Nicholson took a cigarette out of his pack, and lit it. <<>>

  <<
  <<>> Nicholson asked, with a little excess of politeness.

  <<>>

  Nicholson removed a flake of tobacco from his tongue with his fingers.

  <<>> Teddy asked him.

  <<>>

  <<>>

  Nicholson smiled. <<
  Teddy hesitated. <<>>

  <<>>

  <<>> he asked. <<
  That was all that was in it. So--this is my point--what you have to do is vomit it up if you want to see things as they really are. I mean if you vomit it up, then you won't have any more trouble with blocks of wood and stuff. You won't see everything stopping off all the time. And you'll know what your arm really is, if you're interested. Do you know what I mean? Do you follow me?>>>

  <<
  <<
  They don't even want to stop getting born and dying all the time. They just want new bodies all the time, instead of stopping and staying with God, where it's really nice.>>> He reflected. <<
  At that moment, a white-coated deck steward, who was making his rounds within the area, stopped in front of Teddy and Nicholson and asked them if they would care to have morning broth. Nicholson didn't respond to the question at all. Teddy said, <<
  <<>>

  <<>> He took out his handkerchief again and used it. Nicholson waited, watching him. <<>> Teddy, sitting back, was silent a moment. <<>>

  <<>> Nicholson pressed.

  <<>>

  Nicholson didn't say anything.

  <<>> Teddy sat, or reclined, in silence for a minute. <<>>

  <<>>

  << minutes. I could go downstairs to the pool, and there might not be any water in it. This might be the day they change the water or something. What might happen, though, I might walk up to the edge of it, just to have a look at the bottom, for instance, and my sister might come up and sort of push me in. I could fracture my skull and die instantaneously.>>> Teddy looked at Nicholson. <<
  What's there to be afraid of, I mean? I'd just be doing what I was supposed to do, that's all, wouldn't I?>>>

  Nicholson snorted mildly. <<>>

  <<>> He had been keeping his hands tucked under his legs again. He took them out now, put his arms up on the armrests, and looked at Nicholson. <<>> he asked. He waited till he got a nod from Nicholson. <<>>

  Nicholson nodded. <<>>

  <<>> Nicholson, looking detached, was using his right hand to give himself a slow, sensuous massage at the back of the neck. His left hand, motionless on the armrest, with a fresh, unlighted cigarette between the fingers, looked oddly white and inorganic in the brilliant sunlight.

  Teddy suddenly got up. <<