Boys and Girls Together: A Novel

by William Goldman

  “I will not.”

  “It’s all right. What were you just writing about?”

  “You, Scudder.”

  Branch laughed again, louder. “You’re kidding.”

  “No,” Aaron said. “I’m not.”

  “Well, then, you’ve got to read it to me.”

  “It’s hardly flattering, Scudder.”

  “Read it anyway.”

  “Dammit—”

  “I’m waiting.”

  “All right. All right.” Aaron picked up the journal. “ ‘Scudder jiggles,’ ” he began. “ ‘He is losing his hair while keeping his baby fat ... ’ ” He read it venomously. When he finished, he put the journal down.

  Branch was staring at him.

  Aaron smiled. “Like it?” he asked.

  “I’m ... uh ... very sensitive about ... uh ... my ... uh ... hair. I don’t like ... uh ... people ... making ... uh ... jokes about it.”

  “I’ll try to remember that.”

  “Otherwise I thought it was fine.”

  “I’m delighted. Now—”

  “Where did you go to college? I went to Oberlin. Where did you go?”

  “Princeton. Now come on, Scudder—”

  “I was going to guess Yale.”

  “That makes us both perceptive.”

  “I had some friends at Princeton. Did you, by any chance, know—”

  “Probably not. For the last time, Scudder, leave me in peace.” He paused. “If you don’t, I’ll have you put on K.P.”

  Branch sat up. “You wouldn’t do that.”

  “ I’ll give you three to get out of here.”

  “We’re both college men. You wouldn’t—”

  “One.”

  “Besides, you don’t have the authority.”

  “The first sergeant does. He’ll do what I say. Two.”

  Nervously, Branch stood. “Remember, if you write a play, I’ll pro—”

  “Thr ...” Aaron began.

  Jiggling, Branch bolted out the door.

  Alone, Aaron laughed. He put his head down on his arms and howled, tears falling onto the desk blotter. He laughed until his throat hurt. He sat up then, wiping his eyes. Hurriedly, he opened his journal, muttering aloud. “I said, ‘If you don’t, I’ll put you on K.P.’ and he said ‘You wouldn’t do that’ and I said ... It was good dialogue and sometime it might be usable. Aaron lit a cigarette, continuing to write. He felt, somehow, strange. Why? He paused in his work. His shoulders itched, so he rubbed them against the back of his chair. Taking a deep breath, he held it. There was no sound in the room. Aaron listened. Yes, there was. He could hear it now. It was coming from behind him, a soft sound. What was it? There was an open window behind him and suddenly Aaron knew.

  Someone was watching him.

  Aaron froze. The sound was that of quick breathing but very soft, like a tiny puppy, panting after the ordeal of birth. Aaron waited. The sound stayed. “Cut it out, Scudder!” Aaron shouted. Still the sound. “I mean it, cut it out!” The panting seemed a level louder now. With a cry, Aaron flung his body around, facing the window.

  He saw nothing. Nothing. He knew that he had only to go to the window and stick his head out to see who it had been.

  But he did not move.

  The next afternoon, Aaron sat alone in the orderly room. It was a pleasant day, warm, but with a wind, and his writing was going well. Captain Apple had called in at lunch, saying, somewhat thickly, that he would not be down for a while. In the background Aaron could hear what he assumed to be the sounds of the Officers’ Club bar—soft music, loud laughter. Starting a fresh page in his journal, Aaron titled it Apple’s Fall and set to work. He had written almost a page when Terry appeared.

  “Where are the troops?” Aaron said.

  “Watching a triple feature. Hygiene, Military Courtesy and something else.” He sat heavily at his desk. “Ye gods.”

  “What’s up?”

  “More nuts,” Sergeant Terry said. “A fresh supply. Two dozen or more. Due this afternoon.”

  “Where’ll we stick them?”

  “The last barracks down.”

  “That’s locked up.”

  Terry threw him a key. “Open it.” He rubbed his eyes. “And give it a once-over.”

  “How?”

  “See that the toilets all flush. And make sure each bed’s got a mattress. And make sure the sinks work. Think you can do that, Firestone?”

  “With luck.” Aaron stood.

  “I’ll be down in a while,” Sergeant Terry said. He rubbed his eyes. “More nuts,” he muttered. “Jesus.”

  Aaron left the orderly room and turned right, walking quickly. The large vacant field across the road seemed alive as little puffs of dust exploded, detonated by the wind. Aaron whistled, snapping his fingers in rhythm. When he reached the last barracks he unlocked it and stepped inside. It was stuffy, of course, but surprisingly cool. The silence was so complete he stopped whistling and listened. No sound. Nodding, he proceeded to the latrine and, moving down the row of sinks, turned on the faucets. The pipes groaned softly and rusty water cascaded out. Aaron moved into the next room where the toilets were. They all flushed. Returning to the sinks, he noted that the water was clear now, so he turned them off and headed out of the latrine to the main room on the first floor. Carefully he moved down the center aisle, counting cots. There were twenty-four of them, and each had a mattress. “Twenty-four,” Aaron said out loud, breaking the quiet. The floor needed mopping but aside from that everything seemed to be fine. Aaron left the room and mounted the wooden stairway that led to the second floor. He banged his boots down heavily as he climbed, taking pleasure in the sound. There were two cadre rooms by the top of the stairs and he glanced inside. Sun streamed in through the windows. Each room had two beds and two mattresses. Aaron left them and toured the second floor. “Twenty-four,” he said, again aloud, when he was finished. Making a grand total of forty-eight, not counting the cadre rooms. “Forty-eight,” Aaron said.

  The front door of the barracks opened and closed.

  Aaron went to the head of the stairs and looked down. “Stand and unfold yourself.”

  “Everything all right?” Terry said, mounting the stairs.

  “Yes.”

  “Forty-eight cots excluding the cadre rooms?”

  “If you knew, why’d you have me count?”

  “Caution,” Terry answered. “I am, by nature, cautious. Water fountain work?”

  “I didn’t check it,” Aaron said.

  “Why don’t you, then?” Terry told him. “Seeing you have the time.”

  Aaron descended the stairs to the water fountain. It was located in a niche outside the latrine. The water was rusty at first but then it cleared. “It’s fine,” Aaron called.

  “Good.”

  Aaron walked up the stairs again. “Where are you?”

  “Here.” Aaron entered one of the cadre rooms. “Break time,” Terry said. “Take five.” Terry was smoking, his ape’s body sprawled across one of the cots. Aaron sat down on the other cot and lit a cigarette. The room was stuffy, the dark shade pulled down over the window. Above, a bare bulb lit the room starkly. Aaron glanced at Terry, then away. Terry had shaved. Aaron sniffed once.

  “What’s that smell?”

  Terry laughed. “Aftershave. French. It’s imported. A weakness of mine. You don’t like it?”

  “It’s strong, all right.”

  Terry laughed again. “Distinctive would have been a kinder word.”

  Aaron dragged on his cigarette.

  “I was first given some in Paris during the liberation. A gift from an admirer. I’ve used it ever since. The sentimentalist in me.”

  “If I were writing you in a book, I’d never let you use it.”

  “Why not?”

  “Too obvious. It’s gimmicky. French-imported aftershave. My God, is that phony.”

  “If you were writing me in a book, what would you say?”

  “I don�
�t know yet. I haven’t got you straight. But I will.”

  “I’ve been written about before,” Sergeant Terry said.

  “No kidding?”

  “No kidding.”

  “Who did it?”

  “Friends.”

  “What did they say?”

  “Unkind things.”

  “Why?”

  “Revenge, I suppose. Writers write out of revenge. Wouldn’t you say so?”

  “Maybe. I thought you said they were friends of yours.”

  “They were.”

  “How do you know it was you they were writing about?”

  “They sent me copies of the books. Suitably inscribed.”

  Aaron lit another cigarette and carefully placed it in the corner of his mouth. The room was cooler now, the black shade blocking the heat of the sun. Sergeant Terry stretched.

  “Maybe I’ll write about you someday,” Aaron said. “And send you a book, suitably inscribed. To add to your collection.”

  “Oh, you will,” Sergeant Terry said.

  Aaron shrugged.

  “And yours will be just like the others. Venomous. Untrue.”

  “What makes you think so?”

  “Trust me.”

  “You’re pretty confident, aren’t you?”

  “In certain areas only.”

  Aaron inhaled deeply.

  “The light,” Sergeant Terry said.

  Aaron’s heart bucked.

  “Relax,” Terry said. “Relax, Aaron.” He pointed a thick hand. “The light.”

  Aaron fought the trembling.

  “Turn it off, Aaron.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You know.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  Terry smiled.

  Aaron’s throat burned from the dryness.

  Terry rose up on an elbow.

  “You got the wrong guy,” Aaron said.

  Terry shook his head.

  “You got the wrong guy.” Louder.

  “No,” Terry said. “I don’t.”

  “I’m not what you think.”

  “Aren’t you?”

  “No.” Aaron slid along the bed toward the door. “I’m not. Not. I know I’m not ... see once ... there was some possibility ... it crossed my mind that I might be. But I’m not! I faced the possibility. I researched it. I did. And the conclusions I reached were that ... I’m not. And I’m sorry for you being what you are, but I’m not what you are. I may be a lot of things ... but I’m not what you are. It has been proven. I proved beyond the least doubt—I’m not! I’m not and you leave me alone!”

  “You’re protesting a bit too much,” Terry said, smiling again.

  “I’m getting out of here.” Go.

  Aaron stood in the doorway.” I will.”

  “Run!” Terry shouted. “Run, then.”

  Aaron ran. He ran out of the room and along the hall and halfway down the stairs. Halfway down. Then he stopped. “Sergeant Terry,” he called.

  No answer.

  Aaron pressed his head against the wall, closing his eyes. His legs ached from running and the burning in his throat made it hard to breathe. He leaned against the cool wall, gasping. “Sergeant Terry,” he called again, weaker this time.

  No answer.

  “Please,” Aaron called. Slumping down, he sat huddled on the stairs. Above him he heard footsteps, then the snap of a wall switch, then more footsteps. A mattress creaked. Then nothing. Aaron dug his fingers into his eyes. He was aware his entire body was twitching but he was helpless to stop it.

  “Please,” he murmured. “Please.”

  There was no sound in the entire barracks save his own uneven breathing. He tried holding his breath but he could not. He could do nothing. Nothing. Then, with a last desperate effort, he stood, holding to the wall for support. At last his legs began to move.

  Up the stairs.

  His legs were moving slowly up the stairs. They carried him along. He was helpless to stop them as they raised themselves and brought themselves down, each time on a higher stair. Finally he reached the top. His legs continued to move, turning him, dragging the upper half of him along. When they reached the doorway, the legs stopped. Aaron put a hand on the door-frame and paused, looking in. The room was dark now, the light gone. In the far corner, something moved.

  “You’re back, I see.”

  “Yes,” Aaron admitted. “But not for what you think.”

  “Why then?”

  “I just ... I just wanted to tell you ...” Damn the gasping. Goddamn the gasping. “That I won’t tell anybody.”

  “Won’t tell anybody what?”

  “What you tried to do.”

  “And what was that?”

  “You know.”

  “Tell me anyway, Aaron. Say it.”

  Aaron was silent.

  “The word, Aaron. Say the word.” Terry’s voice was without a body. It came, almost mystically, from the dark room.

  “It’s like an oracle,” Aaron muttered.

  “Say the word.”

  “Don’t you get it? I can’t see you. Just hear. That’s all. Like an oracle.”

  “The word.”

  “Seduction. Seduction. I said it.”

  “There’s no such thing, Aaron.” The voice was quiet now, coiled. “Nobody seduces anybody. Seductions must be mutual. Like ours.”

  “That’s not true.”

  The voice laughed. “You want your pride, don’t you? All right. I’ll let you keep your pride. The responsibility belongs to me, Aaron. You’re free and clear. Now come in the room.”

  “No.”

  “Come in the room, Aaron.”

  Aaron entered the room.

  “Now close the door.”

  Aaron closed the door.

  “Now we’re both oracles, Aaron. You can’t see me. I can’t see you.”

  “Yes,” Aaron said.

  “I’m holding my hand out to you, Aaron. You can’t see it, but it’s there. Take it.”

  Aaron did not move.

  “Take it.”

  There was a silence.

  Then Terry’s voice exploded. “The hand!” Aaron listened to the sound. It was wild. Wild and rough. “The hand!” Rough and, familiar. Commanding.

  Aaron obeyed.

  “Thank God you could type,” Sergeant Terry said. He was lying sprawled on one of the cots, shirt open, smoking. “It sure made things a hell of a lot simpler.” Terry laughed, flicking a stubby finger across the burning end of his cigarette, knocking specks of ash onto the floor. Obviously in good humor, he slapped his other hand flat against his chest. “Thank God.”

  Aaron sat across from him, watching. “It was all planned, then?”

  “You might say that.”

  “Why me?”

  Terry laughed. “I like ’em skinny. That a good enough reason?”

  Aaron shrugged.

  Terry slapped his chest again, harder.

  “Don’t do that.”

  “Why not?”

  “You look enough like an ape. Don’t push the resemblance.”

  Terry laughed.

  “And button your shirt.”

  “If it pleases you.” Slowly, he began closing his shirt front. “Aaron?”

  “What?”

  “You were ...” Terry paused.

  “I was what?”

  “I’m looking for the right word.”

  “Well, find it.”

  Terry finished with his shirt and lay back. “Inexperienced,” he said then.

  Aaron said nothing.

  “Weren’t you?”

  “I’ve slept with a woman.”

  “Really?” Terry said. “That must have been fun for you.”

  “It was!” Aaron snapped. “Damn right it was.”

  Terry sat up quickly. “Easy,” he said. “Easy, Aaron.”

  Aaron took a deep drag on his cigarette.

  “You all right?”

  “I�
�m fine.”

  “I mean it. You all right?”

  “I said I was fine.”

  Terry nodded.

  “I’m getting the hell out of here a while, if that’s all right with you.” He stood, starting for the doorway.

  “Sure. Sure. Take the afternoon off if you want.”

  Aaron whirled on him. “Thanks, Sarge.”

  Terry smiled. “I’m known far and wide for my leniency.”

  Aaron moved to the doorway, then stopped and turned again. “Just tell me one thing.”

  “Ask.”

  “What’s your first name?”

  “Oh,” Terry murmured, slowly shaking his head. “I’m sorry. It’s Philip. Phil.”

  “See you around campus, Phil,” Aaron said, and he left the room, walking down the stairs. When he reached the front door of the barracks he pushed it. It was locked from the inside. Caution, Aaron thought as he turned the lock, shoving the door open. He stopped for a moment on the landing, looking around. Quiet. No one in sight. Aimlessly he began to move, scuffing his shoes in the dust. The wind was stronger now and far, far in the distance storm clouds scudded toward each other. I’m a homosexual, Aaron thought. Me. I am a homosexual. He said the word aloud.

  “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.