Irwin Shaw - Rich Man, Poor Man

‘Nothing will happen to me.’ He clipped the bag shut. He was in a hurry. She saw he was in a hurry. Leave her by the window.

‘They will throw me on the garbage heap, like a dog,’ she said.

‘Ma,’ he said, ‘this is a day for celebration. Rejoicing.’

‘I’ll have this framed,’ she said. ‘Enjoy yourself. You earned it. Don’t stay up too late. Where’re you staying in New York? Do you have the phone number, in case there’s an emergency?’

There won’t be any emergency.’

‘In case.’

‘Gretchen’s,’ he said.

The harlot,’ she said. They did not talk about Gretchen, although she knew he saw her.

‘Oh, Christ,’ he said. She had gone too far, and she knew it, but she had to make her position clear.

He leaned over and kissed her to say goodbye and to make up for the ‘Oh, Christ’. She held him. She had doused herself with the toilet water he had bought her for her birthday. She was afraid she smelled like an old woman. ‘You haven’t told me what your plans were,’ she said. ‘Now your life is really beginning. I thought you would spare me a minute and sit down and tell me what to expect. If you want, I’ll make a cup of tea … ‘

‘Tomorrow, Ma. I’ll tell you everything tomorrow. Don’t worry.’ He kissed her again and she released him and he was gone, lightfooted, down the stairs. She got up and hobbled over to the window and sat down in her rocking chair, old lady at the window. Let him see her.

The car drove away. He never looked up.

They all leave. Every one of them. Even the best of them.

The Chevy laboured up the hill and through the familiar stone gate. The poplar trees that lined the road leading to the house cast a funereal shade, despite the June sunshine. The house quietly decayed behind its unkempt flower borders.

The Fall of the House of Usher,’ Brad said as he rounded the curve into the courtyard. Rudolph had been to the house to often that he no longer had an opinion of it. It was Teddy Boylan’s house, that was all. ‘Who lives here - Dracula?’

‘A friend,’ Rudolph said. He had never spoken about Boylan to Brad. Boylan belonged to another compartment of his life. ‘A friend of the family. He helped me through school’

‘Dough?’ Brad asked, stopping the car and staring critically at the stone pile of the building.

‘Some,’ Rudolph said. ‘Enough.’

‘Can’t he afford a gardener?’

‘He’s not interested. Come on in and meet him. There’s some champagne waiting for us.’ Rudolph got out of the car.

‘Should I button my collar?’ Brad asked.

‘Yes,’ Rudolph said. He waited while Brad struggled with his collar, and pulled up his tie. He had a thick, short, plebeian neck, Rudolph noticed for the first time.

They crossed the gravelled courtyard to the heavy oak front doors. Rudolph rang the bell. He was glad he was not alone. He didn’t want to be alone with Teddy Boylan with the news that he had for him. The bell rang in the muffled distance, a question in a tomb, Are you alive?’

The door opened. Perkins stood there. ‘Good afternoon, sir,’ he said. There was the sound of the piano being played Rudolph recognised a Schubert sonata. Teddy Boylan had taken him to concerts at Carnegie Hall, and had played a great deal of music for him on his phonograph, pleased at Rudolph’s pleasure in learning about it and his quick ability to tell good playing from bad, mediocre from great. ‘I was about to give up music before you arrived on the scene,’ Boylan had told him once. ‘I don’t like to listen to it alone and I hate listening to it with people who are faking an interest in it.’

Perkins led the two young men toward the livingroom. Even in taking five paces, Perkins suggested a procession. Brad straightened out of his usual slouch and walked more erectly,, the great dark hall working on him.

Perkins opened the door to the living room, ‘Mr Jordache and a friend, sir,’ he said.

Boylan finished playing the passage he was playing and stopped. There was a bottle of champagne in a bucket and two fluted glasses beside it.

Boylan stood up and smiled. ‘Welcome,’ he said, extending his hand to Rudy. ‘It’s good to see you again.’ Boylan had been south for two months and he was very brown, his hair and straight eyebrows sun-bleached. There was some slight little difference in his face that Rudolph puzzled over momentarily, as he shook Boylan’s hand. ‘May I present a friend of mine,’ Rudolph said. ‘Bradford Knight, Mr Boylan. He’s a classmate of mine.’

‘How do you do, Mr Knight.’ Boylan shook Brad’s hand.

‘Happy to make your acquaintance, suh,’ Brad said, sounding more Oklahoman than usual.

‘You’re to be congratulated today, too, I take it’ Boylan said. ‘I reckon so. At least, that’s the theory.’ Brad grinned. We’ll need a third glass, Perkins.’ Boylan moved towards the champagne bucket.

‘Yes, sir.’ Perkins, leading his lifelong imaginary procession, left the room.

‘Was the Democrat edifying?’ Boylan asked, twirling the bottle in the ice. ‘Did he mention malefactors of great wealth?’

‘He talked about the bomb,’ Rudolph said.

That Democratic invention,’ Boylan said. ‘Did he say whom we’re going to drop it on next?’

‘He didn’t seem to want to drop it on anybody,’ Rudolph said. For some reason, Rudolph felt he had to defend the cabinet member. ‘Actually, he made a great deal of sense.’

‘Did he?’ Boylan said, twirling the bottle again with the tips of his fingers. ‘Perhaps he’s a secret Republican.’

Suddenly Rudolph realised what was different about Boylan’s face. There were no more bags under his eyes. He must have got a lot of sleep on his holiday, Rudolph thought.

“You’ve got yourself quite a fine little old place here, Mr. Boylan,’ Brad said. He had been staring around him frankly during the conversation.

‘Conspicuous consumption,’ Boylan said carelessly. ‘My ‘ family was devoted to it. You’re from the South, aren’t you, Mr Knight?’

‘Oklahoma.’

‘I drove through it once,’ Boylan said. ‘I found it depressing. Do you plan to go back there now?’

Tomorrow,’ Brad said. ‘I’ve been trying to get Rudy to go with me.’

‘Ah, have you?’ Boylan turned to Rudolph. ‘Are you going?’

Rudolph shook his head.

‘No,’ Boylan said. ‘I can’t quite see you in Oklahoma.’

Perkins came in with the third glass and set it down. ‘Ah,’ said Boylan. ‘Here we are.’ He undid the wire around the cork, his hands working deftly as the wire came away. He twisted the cork gently and as it came out with a dry popping noise he poured the foam expertly into the glasses. Ordinarily, he allowed Perkins to open bottles. Rudolph realised that Boylan was making a special, symbolic effort today.

He handed a glass to Brad and one to Rudolph, then lifted

his own. To the future,’ he said. That dangerous tense.’

This sure beats Coca-Cola,’ Brad said. Rudolph frowned slightly. Brad was being purposely bumpkinish, reacting unfavourably to Boylan’s mannered elegance.

‘Yes, doesn’t it?’ Boylan said evenly. He turned to Rudolph. ‘Why don’t we go out into the garden and drink the rest of the bottle in the sunlight? It always seems more festive - drinking wine in the open.’

‘Well,’ Rudolph said, ‘we don’t really have much time ..’

‘Oh?’ Boylan raised his eyebrows. ‘I had thought we could have dinner tonight at the Farmer’s Inn. You’re invited, too, Mr Knight.’

Thank you, sun,’ Brad said. ‘But it’s up to Rudy.’

There’re some people expecting us in New York,’ said Rudolph.

‘I see,’ Boylan said.