Irwin Shaw - Rich Man, Poor Man

‘No,’ said Jordache.

‘This!’ She poked the drawing dramatically in front of Jordache’s nose. He took the paper from her and held it up to the light from the windows to get a better look at it. Rudolph peered anxiously at his father’s face, searching fpr signs. He half expected his father to turn and hit him on the spot and wondered if he would have the courage to just stand there and take it without flinching or crying out. Jordache’s face told him nothing. He seemed quite interested, but a little puzzled.

Finally, he spoke. ‘I’m afraid I can’t read French,’ he said.

‘That is not the point,’ Miss Lenaut said excitedly.

“There’s something written here in French.’ Jordache pointed with his big index finger to the phrase, ‘Je suis folle d’amour,’ that Rudolph had printed on the drawing of the blackboard in front of which the naked figure was standing.

‘I am crazy with love, I am crazy with love.’ Miss Lenaut was now striding up and down in short trips behind her desk.

‘What’s that?’ Jordache wrinkled his forehead, as though he was trying his best to understand but was out in waters too deep for him.

“That’s what’s written there.’ Miss Lenaut pointed a mad finger at the sheet of paper. ‘It’s a translation of what your talented son has written there. “I am crazy with love, I am crazy with love.” ‘ She was shrieking now.

‘Oh, I see,’ Jordache said, as though a great light had dawned on him. ‘Is that dirty in French?’

Miss Lenaut gained control of herself with a visible effort, although she was biting her lipstick again. ‘Mr Jordache,’ she said, ‘have you ever been to school?’

‘In another country,’ Jordache said.

‘In whatever country we went to school, Mr Jordache, would it be considered proper for a young boy to draw a picture of his teacher nude, in the classroom?’

‘Oh!’ Jordache sounded surprised. ‘Is this you?’

‘Yes, it is,’ Miss Lenaut said. She glared bitterly at Rudolph.

Jordache studied the drawing more closely. ‘By God,’ he said, ‘I see the resemblance. Do teachers pose nude in high school these days?’

‘I will not have you mock of me, Mr Jordache,’ Miss Lenaut

said with cold dignity. ‘I see there is no further point to this conversation. If you will be so good as to return the drawing to me … ‘ She stretched out her hand. ‘I will say good day to you and take the matter up elsewhere, where the gravity of the situation will be appreciated. The office of the principal. I had wanted to spare your son the embarrassment of putting his obscenity on the principal’s desk, but I see no other course is open to me. Now, if I may have the drawing please, I won’t detain you further… . ‘

Jordache took a step back, holding on to the drawing. ‘You say my son did this drawing?’

‘I most certainly do,’ Miss Lenaut said. ‘His signature is on it.’

Jordache glanced at the drawing to confirm this. ‘You’re right,’ he said. ‘It’s Rudy’s signature. It’s his drawing all right. You don’t need a lawyer to prove that.’

‘You may expect a communication from the principal,’ Miss Lenaut said. ‘Now, please return the drawing. I’m busy and I’ve wasted enough time on this disgusting affair.’

‘I think I’ll keep it. You yourself said it’s Rudy’s,’ Jordache said placidly. ‘And it shows a lot of talent, A very good likeness.’ He shook his head in admiration. ‘I never guessed Rudy had it in him. I think I’ll have it framed and hang it up back home. You’d have to pay a lot of money to get a nude picture as good as this one on the open market.’

Miss Lenaut was biting her lips so hard she couldn’t get a word out for the moment. Rudolph stared at his father, dumbfounded. He hadn’t had any clear idea of how his father was going to react, but this falsely innocent, sly, country-bumpkin performance was beyond any concept that Rudolph might ever have had of how his father would behave.

Miss Lenaut gave tongue. She spoke in a harsh whisper, leaning malevolently over her desk and spitting out the words at Jordache. ‘Get out of here, you low, dirty, common foreigner, and take your filthy son with you.’

‘I wouldn’t talk like that, Miss,’ Jordache said, his voice still calm. ‘This is a taxpayer’s school and I’m a taxpayer and I’ll get out when I’m good and ready. And if you didn’t strut around with your tail wiggling in a tight skirt and half your titties showing like a two dollar whore on a street corner, maybe young boys wouldn’t be tempted to draw pictures of you stark-assed naked. And if you ask me, if a man took you out of all your brassieres and girdles, it’d turn out that Rudy was downright complimentary in his art work.’

Miss Lenaut’s face was congested and her mouth writhed in hatred. ‘I know about you,’ she said. ‘Sale Boche.’

Jordache reached across the desk and slapped her. The slap resounded like a small firecracker. The voices from the playing field had died down and the room was sickeningly silent. Miss Lenaut remained bent over, leaning on her hands on the desk, for another moment. Then she burst into tears and crumpled on to her chair, holding her hands to her face.

I don’t go for talk like that, you French cunt,’ Jordache said. ‘I didn’t come all the way here from Europe to listen to talk like that. And if I was French these days, what with running like rabbits the first shot the dirty Boche fired at them, I’d think twice about insulting anybody. If it’ll make you feel any better, I’ll tell you I killed a Frenchman in 1916 with a bare bayonet and it won’t surprise you that I stick it in his back while he was trying to run home to his Mama.’

As his father talked, calmly, as though he were discussing the weather or an order for flour, Rudolph began to shiver. The malice in the words was made tolerable by the conversational, almost friendly, tone in which they were delivered.

Jordache was going on, inexorably. ‘And if you think you’re going to take it out on my boy here, you better think twice about that, too, because I don’t live far from here and I don’t mind walking. He’s been an A student in French for two years and I’ll be here to ask some questions if he comes back at the end of the term with anything less. Come on, Rudy.’

They went out of the room, leaving Miss Lenaut sobbing at her desk.

They walked away from the school without speaking. When they came to a trash basket on a corner, Jordache stopped. He tore the drawing into small pieces, almost absently, and let the pieces float down into the basket. He looked over at Rudolph. ‘You are a silly bastard, aren’t you?’ he said.

Rudolph nodded.

They resumed walking in the direction of home.

‘You ever been laid?’ Jordache said.

‘No.’

‘That the truth?’

I’d tell you.’

‘I suppose you would,’ Jordache said. He walked silently for a while, with his rolling limp. ‘What’re you waiting for?*

‘I’m in no hurry,’ Rudolph said defensively. Neither his father nor his mother had ever mentioned anything about sex

to him and this afternoon was certainly the wrong day to start. He was haunted by the sight of Miss Lenaut, dissolved and ugly, weeping on her desk, and he was ashamed that he had ever thought a silly, shrill woman like that, worthy of his passion.

‘When you start,’ Jordache said, ‘don’t get hung up on one. Take ‘em by the dozen. Don’t ever get to feel that there’s only one woman for you and that you got to have her. You can ruin your life.

‘Okay,’ Rudolph said, knowing that his father was wrong, dead wrong.

Another silence as they turned a corner.

‘You sorry I hit her?’ Jordache said.