by Pat Conroy
The son and the mother looked at each other and smiled. Their eyes met in a gentle and satisfied concordance as the music danced from their fingertips. Tradd’s piano would pose a delicate question and receive an answer from the harp with startling immediacy and with questions of its own. I felt the sharp sting of emptiness and solitude that you feel so acutely and with such internal sorrow and wonder whenever music is performed well. But my head was filled with nightmares featuring trains.
How different this garden was from Annie Kate’s and her mother’s, I thought. In this garden, nature was denied its capacity for accident. Abigail controlled too tyrannically the luxuriant vegetable flow that grew in such thriftless riot in the warm Carolina days. The alien quality of this garden was in the severe zealotry of its tending. Never cut back too radically, Abigail, I said to myself. Grant to nature and to climate some freedom, some vivacity of form, some of the ancient symmetry that comes from wildness.
I let them finish the piece. The music changed at the very end. The piano flowed through the garden like swift water and the harp replied with clean honey that poured into the water. I lifted up out of the roses and jasmine when they were done. Summoning my courage, I rapped the polished brass knocker at the front door. Once again, I was set loose to drift in the city beneath the palms and spires, a stranger among the gardens. Loneliness again, I thought, my native land.
Tradd answered the door and did not immediately recognize me in the shadows of the verandah.
“Will,” he said at last. “I heard you made it. I heard you beat the General. Congratulations, you old thing.”
He embraced me warmly. “This is a night to celebrate. Mother, it’s Will. He’s come home and he’s going to graduate as an Institute man.”
Abigail came to the vestibule, her clumsiness of gesture and movement somehow more eloquent and moving than they had ever been before. Her guileless eyes appraised me lovingly and I laid my head against her cheek and let her hands stroke the back of my head. “It’s all over now, Will. We can now start the business of forgetting this dreadful year. Where’s Mark? Is he coming over?”
“No, Abigail,” I said. “He stayed in the barracks. He was too tired to come.”
“What did you say to the General, Will?” Tradd asked. “I’ve had three cadets call to say that you and he went to war and that you won hands down. It’s all over the campus. And I heard the Bear was fired as Commandant. I want to hear every word of it. Every single syllable, and I refuse to let you skip over any parts of it.”
“Of course, he’ll tell us everything, Tradd. Let the poor boy come inside and fix himself a drink and get comfortable. He’ll catch a death of a cold standing in this draft.”
“A cold, mother?” Tradd said. “Oh, really now, not at the end of May.”
“That’s the easiest time to catch a chill, when you’re least expecting it. I’ve always caught the most horrid chills in summer.”
“Where’s Commerce?” I said, looking nervously toward the stairway.
“Father was rather a grouch when he came in, Will,” Tradd said. “He’s in one of his black humors.”
“He’s in his study,” Abigail said crossly. “As usual he’s agitated about something. He came home today muttering and incoherent and doing everything to make himself unpleasant. He’s been in his room all afternoon and has refused to speak. I tried to get him to join us for dinner, but he wouldn’t even answer my knocks. Men are the strangest of all God’s creatures, at least the one I married. He did do a very singular thing though. When he returned from an alumni meeting at the Institute today, he changed the lock on his study. It’s a combination lock and it looks extremely tacky. I told him that too, but of course, he simply ignored me.”
“He’ll get over it, Mother,” Tradd said. “He always does.”
“What’s in the jar, Will?” Abigail inquired, noticing for the first time the container I held in my left hand.
“Water,” I said. “It’s chilled and fine. Vintage 1967. I want to begin a new tradition in the St. Croix family. One that you can remember me by. I want this occasion to be as memorable as when we drank the water from the Aegean.”
“We don’t need traditions to remember you by, Will,” Abigail said. “You’re a part of all this now. You’re part of the traditions of this house. But the human soul can always use a new tradition. Sometimes we require them. It’s been a hard year on both of you. A tragic year.”
Abigail took the jar of water and poured it slowly into the Waterford decanter on her sideboard in the dining room. Tradd and I took our seats at the dining room table.
“Have we changed much since our knob year, Tradd?” I asked. “Do we look the same? Do we feel the same things? Do we think the same thoughts?”
“Goodness, no, Will,” he said assuredly. “At least, I pray that we’ve matured considerably since then. We were boys our knob year and all our thoughts were foolish, boyish thoughts. In a matter of days we’ll officially be whole men. Then we’ll think mature, noble thoughts for the rest of our lives. I’m just joking, of course, but we have earned our maturity, Will. We went through the system and that automatically changes you. It’s what makes us different from our contemporaries in other colleges.”
“Do you really believe that, Tradd? Or do you just want to believe it?” I asked.
“I sincerely believe it, Will. And I’ve believed it the whole time I’ve been at the Institute. Tradition has always held an important place in my life and I’ve believed in the system. I have never felt the need for rebellion the way you have. That’s why I’m fairly astonished that you want to start a new tradition tonight.”
“If Will wants to start one, then I want to participate in it,” Abigail said, coming toward us with a tray, three wine glasses, and the decanter of water.
I poured the water into the three slender glasses.
“It looks filthy,” Tradd exclaimed, grimacing at his mother. “Are you sure it’s safe to drink, Will? I certainly don’t want to contract rickets or typhoid fever or whatever it is you catch from drinking contaminated water.”
“Heavens, Tradd,” Abigail laughed. “We’re not in Mexico.”
“It’s perfectly safe,” I promised. “A toast.”
“Let’s all make toasts,” Abigail suggested.
“A splendid idea, Mother.”
“Here’s to the success of my son in his career and to the success of my adopted son in his career,” Abigail said, her eyes moving from Tradd to me.
Tradd raised his glass to me and said with feeling, “Here’s to my roommate, Will McLean, who has been the best friend I ever had in my life.”
“To friendship,” I said, and there were tears in all of our eyes.
We clinked the glasses lightly together. Tradd and Abigail drank deeply. I did not drink any of the water. Instead, with great deliberation, I flung the glass of water in Tradd’s face.
“Will!” Abigail cried. “I hope you don’t think that’s amusing. I’m surprised at you. In fact, I’m shocked.”
I ignored her and fixed my eyes on my roommate. I watched his expression change from shock to indignation, then to the terrible awareness that he was facing me as an enemy for the first time in our lives.
“Tradd, you once told me that if you ever had a son you didn’t want to name him Tradd St. Croix, that you didn’t want that name to continue through another generation, that you thought one Tradd St. Croix was enough for the world. Well, I agree with you. One is more than enough. But I found a name for your son. You can name him Judas, Tradd.”
“How long have you known?” Tradd asked, nervously wiping his face with a handkerchief.
“For three of the longest days in my life. But I didn’t know how to confront you, Tradd. I didn’t know how to tell you that I hated your guts. It’s hard to quit loving someone when you’ve had only three days to do it. It’s hard to believe that someone can hold your love and friendship so cheaply. You were one of them, Tradd. My God, you were w
ith them all the time.”
“It’s not like you think, Will. I swear it’s not like you think. I can explain everything. There’s a perfectly logical explanation for everything. They promised me you’d never find out. They promised me that, Will. But you must listen to me,” he said desperately, reaching out to touch me.
“Tell me what this is all about, Will,” Abigail demanded. “Tell me this instant. What has happened to you?”
Spinning around to face her, I said, “Happened to me, Abigail? Happened to me? How can I begin to tell you what has happened to me? What can I say to you that would make you understand? All this beauty around you. This house, your flowers, your fine silver, your antiques, your music, your perfect life. Such beauty, such stunning beauty, but you missed it, Abigail, you missed seeing the corruption and the goddam evil that has grown up around you. See this face? See this rich kid’s face?” I said, grasping Tradd’s jaw and turning it in profile toward his mother. “He betrayed three people, Abigail, three people who loved him. One of them is dead because of this sad worthless son of yours. That water you drank, Abigail, the water you drank tonight is not from the Aegean Sea or the Bay of Siam or any other romantic place. The water is from the Ashley River. It’s flavored with the bones and blood of our roommate, Tradd. Do you remember him? Do you, Abigail? Do you remember how poor he was? Do you remember how the other three of us got him through it all, gave him money, shared everything, and called him our brother? How did you feel when he killed himself on the trestle? How did you feel when you heard they found pieces of our roommate in the marsh, Tradd?”
“Stop it, Will,” Tradd pleaded, cupping his hands over his ears. “Please stop it and give me a chance to explain. I have a right to defend myself. You haven’t heard my side of it.”
“Do you remember his name, Tradd?” I continued, enjoying his anguish. “I do. I remember it, but I can’t say it. I can’t say it because the Institute is that strong within me. It’s in me so deep I’ll never get it out, Tradd. It’s strong, Tradd. It’s so strong, Abigail. Far more powerful than I ever realized because I haven’t been able to speak his name since he was voted guilty by the honor court. I can’t even mention my goddamn roommate’s name. Help me say it, Tradd. Please help me say it.”
“Listen to Tradd, Will,” Abigail said, and her voice was pitiful. “I don’t understand any of this, but I’m sure Tradd has a reasonable explanation. Just listen to what he has to say and get control of yourself.”
As Tradd approached me I turned my back toward him and found myself facing an antique mirror that reflected our three images in tarnished, distorted tones. He put his hands on my shoulders and leaned his head against my shoulders.
“Will,” he said, and there was a cry in his voice, “you’ve always been strong and accepted. You could always be one of the boys if you chose to be. Often, you didn’t want to be, but you still had the choice. You’ve never been the Honey Prince, Will. That’s me. I’m the Honey Prince. I’ve been the Honey Prince for four years. You’ve always been an athlete and could win the approval of other men easily. I never had that. I was always considered weak and ineffectual until I came to the Institute. You’ve never understood my love for the school or anyone else’s love for it. I’m grateful, Will, eternally grateful for the Institute’s giving me the chance to prove that I could take everything they could dish out. The school gave me a chance to respect myself, to like myself. It was the first time I ever felt manly I bet you think that’s a joke, don’t you, Will? The Honey Prince feeling manly. Well, I did, and when I was selected for The Ten, it was the greatest thing that ever happened to me. It’s the Institute’s highest honor, and her most distinguished alumni are members. It wasn’t until later that I found out that it was because of my father’s membership that I was inducted. I didn’t know that my selection was automatic. How do you think I felt then? It was my heritage again, Will. I’ve never earned a single thing in my life on my own merits. Everything is because my name is Tradd St. Croix.”
“You earned our friendship, Tradd,” I answered him in the mirror. “You earned it because we thought you were wonderful and generous and kind, not because you were a St. Croix.”
“I can’t stand to see you boys do this to each other,” Abigail whispered to us. “I simply can’t bear it.”
“Listen to me, Will,” Tradd said. “I need you now more than I ever did. This is the time I really need you. This is the time you can prove your friendship to me, the first time it’s really been tested. Everything got carried away from us, Will. We were all” swept away by events beyond our control. Think about my situation. I was in the worst situation of anyone in the room. I had sworn a vow of secrecy to The Ten. I was proud to take that vow, Will. Prouder than anything I’ve ever done. Then you got involved with Pearce and they told me I had to watch you and report everything you did or said concerning Pearce. I wanted to tell you everything, Will. You have no idea how many times I wanted to go up to you and tell you every single thing. But there was never a chance, Will, and there was the vow. It just got worse and worse and you got into it deeper and deeper. Then our roommate was killed and it was all over. There was no way I could tell you after that, Will. But you must try to understand that my situation was untenable. No matter what I did it would look like I was betraying someone.”
“You chose them, Tradd.”
“It was not a choice, Will. I didn’t like what The Ten did to freshmen any more than you did. I was trying to get them to stop that horrible practice of taking freshmen to the General’s house. I was working from the inside, Will. I’m sorry about everything that happened. Oh God, Will. I’m so sorry and I’d do anything to rectify it. I’m sorry about Poteete. I’m sorry about our roommate. But they made their own choices. I did not make any choices for them. What Poteete did was the result of a personality disorder. What our roommate did was simply wrong. He committed an honor violation that had nothing to do with me or you or The Ten.”
“What about what Tradd did?” I asked in a trembling voice. “I want to know about Tradd St. Croix. How did it feel to throw gasoline on Poteete, Tradd? Tell me about that. Did you feel like a big man? Did you feel powerful? I bet you didn’t feel like the Honey Prince that night, did you, big fella? And our roommate? Our roommate, Tradd. You made the call to those bastards. You left the room as soon as he did. You went out and called them, didn’t you? You even called them the night I went to the house. You told them about Bobby Bentley. You were the one intercepting the messages from Pearce. Because you were the key to running all of us out, the three guys who had accidentally interfered with the workings of The Ten. And all for what, Tradd? Because of the Honey Prince. Was that the monster that destroyed our room? The goddam Honey Prince.”
“Listen to me, Will. Please listen to me and forget this other stuff. I’m begging you to forget it. It’s over now and there’s nothing we can do about it. When you went to the house and discovered the secret of The Ten, there was nothing I could do to warn you or protect you or help you. It became a matter of grave concern to people much older and much more important than me or you. They marked you, Will. The Board of Governors issued a decree that you guys were not to graduate under any circumstance. I pleaded your cases before them. It made me sick, Will. Physically ill. I told them I could keep you quiet, that I could use my friendship to ensure your silence. I still feel I was right. I’m sorry I was part of everything that was hurting you. Do you hear me, Will? Please hear what I’m saying, Will. I need you now. I’ll do whatever you want, Will. I’ll resign from The Ten. I’ll do anything. Anything at all, Will. There’s nothing we can do now except start completely fresh and pretend that none of this ever happened. I’ll be a better friend because of this. I’ve learned so much, Will. And I’ve suffered. You’ve no idea how I’ve suffered. We simply must get over it. We must, Will.”
I removed the key to the St. Croix mansion from my back pocket and let it drop to the floor.
“When you went to Fort Ben
ning on Friday, I entered the house and spent four of the worst hours of my life copying names and dates out of Commerce’s journals. That’s how I knew you were in The Ten, Tradd.”
“That’s unforgivable, Will,” Abigail said angrily. “Commerce will never forgive a breach of trust like that. Those journals are sacred to him.”
“The key’s on the floor, Abigail. I’ll never use it again. But there’s one more thing in the journals I would like explained to me. One more thing that hurts and that I don’t understand. Why did you two set me up with Annie Kate?”
Tradd’s face in the mirror was both surprised and angry. “What are you talking about, Will? How do you even know about Annie Kate? No one knows about her except. . . Those damn journals of Father’s.”
Abigail moved quickly to her son and laid her hands on his shoulders. Our faces shone darkly, sadly in the mirror, an aggrieved and hopeless trinity.
Abigail spoke. “I was the one responsible for your meeting Annie Kate, Will. I arranged that meeting last August. I knew she was waiting for you in that alley.”
“Mother, what on earth are you talking about? Annie Kate went to California. Father paid for the trip. It was all arranged and all secret. You promised that it would remain a secret. Annie Kate swore to it.”
“Annie Kate didn’t tell me a thing, Tradd. You’re right. It was the journal that told me you were the father of Annie Kate’s child. But please explain to me all about Annie Kate, Abigail. Why was I selected to see her through her pregnancy? Why didn’t you let me in on the secret? I wouldn’t have told anyone. I wouldn’t have fallen in love with her. I wouldn’t have been left by her.”
“You fell in love with Annie Kate, Will?” Tradd gasped. “Not really. Not with her. I’d like to hear that explanation myself, Mother. You lied to me and told me she was in California. You lied to me, Mother.”
