William Saroyan - The Laughing Matter

“Medium-rare, pretty much?” Swan said.

“I think so,” Walz said.

The women fooled around the table, going in and coming out of the house. The men gradually wandered around the house to the back yard, Evan Nazarenus going there almost helplessly, for he wanted to have another look at Red and Eva.

After dinner Cody Bone came by with his son Bart, as Evan had asked them to do, for at the back of his mind had been the thought that it was necessary for anyone who had seen him last night to see him again as soon as possible. It had seemed extremely important to get this matter out of the way, so he could turn to the other matter. From the depot, while Red had been riding in the locomotive with Cody Bone, he had telephoned Dade at the St. Francis in San Francisco.

“Can you do me a favor?” he’d said. “Fly down tonight. Stay only a couple of hours if you like, but fly down.”

“I’ll try,” Dade had said. “I may not be able to make it until late. Will you be up?”

“I’ll be up.”

“I’ll try. Midnight or one or two, or maybe even three, if that’s not too late.”

“Any time, Dade.”

“I’ll try.”

The table was soon cleared, the kids played on the front lawn, the others sat at the table with drinks, or stood near it.

Evan stood with Bart, who was drinking beer. The father and the son had cleaned up and put on fresh clothes: open white shirts, white slacks, moccasins. The boy, like Warren Walz, had nothing to say about last night. He wanted some information about Stanford.

“When you get there,” Evan said, “call me. I’ll take you around to the people you ought to see. How much longer will you be at the college in Fresno?”

“Another year,” Bart said, “but I want to begin making plans now. I’m not sure I may not want to go to one of the Eastern schools at the last minute. I think I’d rather , except for Cody. I can’t decide on a profession, either, so if it’s just school I’ll be going to, it seems to me a school in another part of the country would be best.”

“Most likely,” Evan said. “How about law?”

“No, I think not,” Bart said. “I hate disputes, and the whole idea. I mean, the idea’s supposed to be to reach truth and—well, justice, I suppose. But that’s not what happens at all. Lawyers take pride in concealing the truth, in distorting it, in prohibiting it. I suppose somebody might come along and be a true lawyer, but I doubt if he’d get very far, or last very long.”

“Medicine?”

“Not for me. I couldn’t be near pain in others without feeling it myself. I’d feel it all the time. I wouldn’t be much help.”

“What about teaching?”

“Well, that might be O.K. if I could think of something to teach. I can’t.” He thought a moment, then said, “Most of all I’d like to travel, but that’s no profession. Besides, you’ve got to have money, and the only way you can get money is to work.”

“Have you thought of going to sea? A voyage around the world, for instance? I know a fellow with the President Line who might get you on as an able seaman. I think a little training would be involved, but nothing much.”

He saw the boy’s eyes brighten.

“I’ve dreamed of something like that all my life,” Bart said. “It’s what I’d really like to do. I don’t have to go back to college. I’ve planned to only because there’s nothing else to do. I suppose I’d even be paid.”

“Yes, of course.”

“I’d have time ashore in quite a few cities, wouldn’t I?”

“I’m not sure, but I should imagine so.”

“Would you speak to the man?” the boy said. “I’m ready to go. I’m ready to take the necessary training. I wouldn’t want to wait table or anything like that. I’d want to work with the ship itself.” He brought an envelope from his back pocket, removed the letter, and handed the envelope to Evan. “That’s my name and address. The phone’s Clovis 121, but if you forget, the operator will put you through. Do you think there’s a chance? It’s exactly what I want to do.”

“Yes, I think there is a chance,” Evan said. “Do you want to speak to your father about it?”

“Not until I know if I can go,” Bart said. “The reason for that is, I don’t want him to worry for nothing, in case it doesn’t turn out. When it looks as if it might turn out, then I know I can explain it to him so he won’t worry. I I mean I’ll know when I’ll be leaving and when I’ll be back. When things are clear that way, well, they are clear, and there’s little left to worry about. I might even know the places I’d be able to visit, the places from which I’d send him letters. He wouldn’t worry if it was all clear, but if it wasn’t, he’d worry, and he might just worry so much that I’d start worrying about him, and hell, that’s silly. How long would the trip take?”

“About three months, I think. Figure four. Perhaps five, even.”

“What’s five months?” the boy said. “What’s six? What’s a year? To do a thing like that, I mean? I want to go. I can’t wait to go. I don’t just mean around the world. I mean, to go . I’ve been here all my life, almost eighteen years. I’m not sick and tired of it exactly, but do you want to know something? I’ve never met a girl here I’d like to marry. I’ve liked the ones I’ve known, but I want to see others. I want to see them in all sorts of different countries. I want to know the way they are. I’ll probably come home and marry one of the girls here, but before I do, I want to see the others. I want to have seen them. I want to know what I’m doing, and why. I mean, I don’t want what I do to happen because I happened to be there at the time, and all the rest of it. I’m sure you understand what I mean.”

“I understand,” Evan said. “I’ll call the man at his home tomorrow. Tomorrow’s Sunday, so unless he’s on his vacation, he’ll be home. I’ll call you just as soon as I’ve had a talk with him.”

“I’ll be hanging around the house all day,” the boy said. “I hope this works.”

“I hope it does, too,” Evan said. “Let me get you another beer.”

At the table, opening another can and filling the glass, Evan saw Cody Bone talking to Red. Red was away from the others, standing in front of Cody, who sat with his back to the table, holding a glass with Scotch and ice in it. Evan didn’t hear much, but he heard enough to know that his son was asking Cody about Cody’s personal experience in the matter of anger.

Evan and Cody’s son Bart were joined after a moment by Warren Walz, who, without preamble, said, “What’s it all about, anyway? Can you tell me, Bart? Can you , Evan?”

Cody’s son laughed, perhaps because he was excited about the idea of making a voyage around the world. He also laughed because it was such a strange question. He certainly had never before heard Warren Walz ask a question like that. Bart turned to Evan, as if to delegate to him the responsibility of trying to answer the question.

“Well, Warren,” Evan said, “I think I know what you mean.”

“I mean,” Walz said swiftly, “what’s it all about , that’s all.”

“I know,” Evan said. “And the answer is, you know, and nobody else does.”

“Do I?” Walz said. “Do I know? I didn’t know. I didn’t think I knew at all. I was sure I didn’t, but come to think of it, maybe I did. Maybe I knew all the time. Maybe I do know.”

“Well, if you do,” Bart said, “tell me , because I don’t.”

“Oh, no,” Walz said. “I know for myself , and you’ll have to find out for yourself.”