Irwin Shaw - Rich Man, Poor Man

Boylan drove fast and well, passing cars in racing-driver . spurts, his hands calm on the wheel. Rudolph was disturbed because he had to admire the way the man drove. There was a disloyalty there somewhere.

‘That’s a nice little combination you boys have there,’ Boylan said.

‘Thanks,’ Rudolph said. ‘We could do with some more practice and some new arrangements.’

‘You manage a smooth beat,’ Boylan said. Amateur. ‘It made me regret that my dancing days are over.’

Rudolph couldn’t help but approve of this. He thought people over thirty dancing were ludicrous, obscene. Again he felt guilty about approving of anything about Theodore Boylan. But he was glad that at least Boylan hadn’t danced with Gretchen and made fools in public of both of them. Older men dancing with young girls were the worst.

‘And you, Miss … ?’ Boylan waited for one or the other of them to supply the name.

‘Julie,’ she said.

‘Julie what?’

‘Julie Hornberg,’ she said defensively. She was sensitive about her name.

‘Hornberg?’ Boylan said. ‘Do I know your father?’

‘We just moved into town,’ Julie said.

“Does he work for me?’

‘No,’ Julie said.

Moment of triumph. It would have been degrading if Mr Hornberg was another vassal. The name was Boylan, but there were some things beyond his reach.

‘Are you musical, too, Julie?’ Boylan asked.

‘No,’ she said, surprisingly. She was making it as hard as she could for Boylan. He didn’t seem to notice it. ‘You’re a lovely girl, Julie,’ he said. ‘You make me happy that my kissing days, unlike my dancing days, are not yet over.’

Dirty old lecher, Rudolph thought. He fingered his black trumpet case nervously and thought of asking Boylan to stop the car so that he and Julie could get out. But walking back to town, he wouldn’t get Julie to her door before four o’clock. He marked a sorrowful point against his character. He was practical at moments that demanded honour.

‘Rudolph … It is Rudolph, isn’t it?’

‘Yes.’ His sister must have run off at the mouth like a faucet.

‘Rudolph, do you intend to make a profession of the trumpet?’ Kindly old vocational counsellor, now.

‘No. I’m not good enough,’ Rudolph said.

That’s wise,’ Boylan said. ‘It’s a dog’s life. And you have to mix with scum.’

‘I don’t know about that,’ Rudolph said. He couldn’t let Boylan get away with everything. ‘I don’t think people like Benny Goodman and Paul Whiteman and Louis Armstrong are scum.’

‘Who knows?’ Boylan said.

They’re artists,’ Julie said tightly.

‘One thing does not preclude the other, child.’ Boylan laughed gently. ‘Rudolph,’ he said, dismissing her, what do you plan to do?’

‘When? Tonight?’ Rudolph knew that Boylan meant as a career, but he didn’t intend to let Boylan know too much about himself. He had a vague idea that all intelligence might one day be used against him.

Tonight I hope you’re going to go home and get a good night’s sleep, which you eminently deserve after your hard evening’s work,’ Boylan said. Rudolph bridled a little at Boylan’s elaborate language. The vocabulary of deceit. Trapped English. ‘No, I mean, later on, as a career,’ Boylan said.

‘I don’t know yet,’ Rudolph said. ‘I have to go to college first.’

‘Oh, you’re going to college?’ The surprise in Boylan’s voice was clear, a pinprick of condescension.

“Why shouldn’t he go to college?’ Julie said. ‘He’s a straight A student. He just made Arista.’

‘Did he?’ Boylan said. ‘Forgive my ignorance, but just what is Arista?’

‘It’s a scholastic honour society,’ Rudolph said, trying to

extricate Julie. He didn’t want to be defended in the terms of adolescence. ‘It’s nothing much,’ he said. ‘If you can just read and write, practically …”

‘You know it’s a lot more than that,’ Julie said, her mouth bunched in disappointment at his self-deprecation. ‘The smartest students in the whole school. If I was in the Arista, I wouldn’t poor-mouth it.’

Poor-mouth, Rudolph thought, she must have gone out with a Southern boy in Connecticut. The worm of doubt.

‘I’m sure it’s a great distinction, Julie,’ Boylan said soothingly.

‘Well, it is.’ She was stubborn.

‘Rudolph’s just being modest,’ Boylan said. ‘It’s a commonplace male pretence.’

The atmosphere in the car was uncomfortable now, with Julie in the middle angry at both Boylan and Rudolph. Boylan reached over and turned on the radio. It warmed up and a radio announcer’s voice swam out of the rushing night, with the news. There had been an earthquake somewhere. They had tuned in too late to hear where. There were hundreds killed, thousands homeless, in the new, whistling, 186,000 miles per second darkness which was the world of radio land.

‘You’d think with the war just over,’ Julie said, ‘God would lay off for a while.’

Boylan looked at her in surprise and turned off the radio. ‘God never lays off,’ he said.

Old faker, Rudolph thought. Talking about God. After what he’s done.

‘What college do you intend to go to, Rudolph?’ Boylan talked across Julie’s plump, pointy, little chest.

‘I haven’t made up my mind yet’

‘It’s a very grave decision,’ Boylan said. The people you meet there are likely to change your whole life. If you need any help, perhaps I can put in a good word at my Alma Mater. With all the heroes coming back, boys of your age are going to have difficulties.’

Thank you.’ The last thing in the world. ‘I don’t have to apply for months yet. What college did you go to?’

‘Virginia,’ Boylan said.

Virginia, Rudolph thought disdainfully. Anybody can go to Virginia. Why does he talk as though it’s Harvard or Princeton, or at least Amherst?

They drew up in front of Julie’s house. Automatically, Rudolph looked up at Miss Lenaut’s window, in the next

building. It was dark.

‘Well, here we are, child,’ Boylan said, as Rudolph opened the door on his side and got out. ‘It’s been delightful talking to you.’

Thank you for the ride,’ Julie said. She got out and bounced past Rudolph towards her front door. Rudolph went after her. He could kiss her goodnight, at least, in the shadow of the porch. As she felt in her bag for her key, her head down, her pony tail swinging down over her face, he tried to pick up her chin so he could kiss her, but she pulled away fiercely. ‘Kowtower,’ she said. She mimicked him savagely. ‘It’s nothing much. If you can just read and write, practically…’

‘Julie .:. ‘

‘Suck up to the rich.’ He had never seen her face looking like that, pale and closed down. ‘Scaly old man. He bleaches his hair. And his eyebrows. Boy, some people’ll do anything for a ride in a car, won’t they?’

‘Julie, you’re being unreasonable.’ If she knew the whole truth about Boylan, he might understand her anger. But just because he was ordinarily polite …

Take your hands off me.’ She had the key out and was fumbling at the door, still smelling of apricot.

‘I’ll come by tomorrow about four …’

That’s what you think,’ she said. ‘Wait until I have a Buick and then come around. That’s more your speed.’ She had the door open now and was through it, a rustle of girl, a fragrant, snapping shadow, and was gone as the door slammed shut

Rudolph went back to the car slowly. If this was love, the hell with it. He got into the car and closed the door. That was a quick good night’ Boylan said as he started the car. ‘In my day, we used to linger.’

‘Her folks like her to get in early.’