Evan Connell - Mr. Bridge

Mr. Bridge understood that nobody else had complained and he understood that she was attempting to divert him. He replied that perhaps she deserved what she got.

Carolyn’s hands trembled as though she was about to seize something and throw it. The freckles on her face stood out like measles.

“You listen here, young lady,” he said in a warning voice, “you simmer down.”

It might be true that the professional had spoken out of turn, and it was true that despite his status, which caused him to be treated by the members as an equal, he was, after all, one of the employees. Nonetheless, Carolyn’s arrogance could not be tolerated. He told her that she was not to adopt a superior attitude toward Billy Jack nor toward any other employee of the club, nor toward anybody else, for that matter, anywhere, at any time, under any circumstances. If she did, she was going to find herself in hot water. Was this clear? And to emphasize the seriousness of this message he dropped his forefinger on the desk — in the silence of the study it sounded like the tap of a bird’s beak against the window.

Carolyn gave him a sudden, stark look and retreated. Her eyes told him all he needed to know: she would behave more considerately from now on. Or, if she did not, at least she would be aware of what she was doing.

Another employee of the club that summer was a cheerful little waitress with heavy breasts and a mole on the tip of her nose, who carried trays of sandwiches and cold drinks from the coffee shop to the swimming pool. About a week after she started to work Douglas was observed to be quite friendly with her, a fact which Carolyn reported at home. Nothing was said about this until a second report suggested that Douglas and the waitress were seeing each other elsewhere.

Mrs. Bridge was alarmed. She did not like Carolyn reporting on her brother, neither did she like the thought of him going out with the waitress; and so, after hinting to Douglas that she was aware of his activities, and getting no response, she took the problem to her husband.

He listened to the details. He felt more or less the same, although slightly more irked with Carolyn and somewhat less concerned about Douglas.

She asked what he thought should be done.

He suggested they ignore the matter. It was a summer romance, and the petals would turn brown pretty rapidly in September because the girl lived halfway across the city and attended a different high school — one more bit of information from Carolyn. But then he reconsidered. Douglas was not yet old enough to drive, so the threat of the automobile could be ignored; however, he had reached an age where a girl from a lower-class family might seem like fair game. This attitude could cause trouble. It was not apt to, but it might. He said he would have a talk with Douglas.

He did not like questioning his son, but having committed himself, he did. Douglas was invited into the study, the door was shut, and without wasting any time Mr. Bridge asked how much he knew about the girl.

Douglas slumped in the witness chair. Not much, he said.

They had met at the club, was that correct?

At the swimming pool.

At the swimming pool, all right. Where did she live?

In a big apartment building near Menorah Hospital. Her mother worked at Menorah, he thought.

Menorah? Was this girl a Jewess?

Douglas didn’t know. He had never thought about it. He guessed she might be Irish.

What was her name?

Peggy O’Hara.

Was it true they were seeing each other away from the club?

Yes.

How many times had they seen each other?

He sighed. Three or four times. Maybe five times.

Where did they go on these occasions?

Bowling. Movies. Sometimes walked around.

How did she get home?

Took the bus, transferred to the streetcar, walked the rest of the way.

Had he gone home with her?

Once. Her mother didn’t like it.

Douglas was sliding lower and lower in the chair. His mouth hung open and his eyes rolled toward the ceiling with a look of anguish.

Mr. Bridge said he was sorry, he did not enjoy asking these questions, but it was easy for a boy to find himself in an awkward situation with a very young girl. And please sit up straight in the chair.

There was a long pause. One particular question must be asked. Had he been intimate with this girl?

Douglas coughed. He scratched his nose. He took a deep breath. Finally he murmured no, not very much. Just a little.

Did he like this girl? Or was she merely an available girl?

Well, yes.

Well yes, what?

He liked her.

Did he think he was in love with her?

No.

Mr. Bridge asked if there were not some girls from his own high school or some girls who went swimming at the club that he would like to take to the movies.

Not especially. He liked Peggy pretty well.

Why?

She was different.

In what respect?

Most girls were stuck-up. They thought they were hot stuff.

Not all of them, surely.

Most of them. The other ones were ugly. Anyway, he liked Peggy. She gave him a free ice-cream cone.

And here, completely unexpected, was the clue. Mr. Bridge leaned forward. So she gave him an ice-cream cone, did she? Why did she do this?

Well, one day she brought him an ice-cream cone, that was all. He hadn’t ordered it, she just brought it down to the pool and handed it to him. No other girl ever had given him anything.

Did he expect presents?

No. No, he didn’t expect anything.

Then Mr. Bridge was silent for a while. At last he said: All right, but be careful.

As he was passing Carolyn’s room he glanced in. She stood naked on one foot in front of the long mirror, arms poised as if she were about to dance.

In the study he dropped his briefcase heavily on the desk. He wondered if she had seen him as he walked by. He looked down the hall. Now the door to her room was shut, so she knew. The fault was hers, he thought angrily. She should know better than to leave the door open when she undressed. He sat down at his desk, unzipped the briefcase, and started to examine the papers he had brought from the office; but he saw her nubile body as she posed before the mirror. He reminded himself that she was his daughter, but the luminous image returned like the memory of a dream, and although he dismissed it, soon it returned. He stopped work and held his head in his hands, wondering how much time must go by until he could forget.

Dearest Ruth:

Your mother and I are planning a short vacation in Europe. I had hoped it might be a lengthy trip insofar as there are many famous cities we both would like to see, but the pressures of this office apparently will not let up. If anything, they grow worse from year to year. Consequently, we expect to be away from Kansas City approximately five weeks (six weeks if I find that I am able to arrange my schedule accordingly). We arrive in New York by train — as your mother does not like to fly — on or about the sixth of August. I will let you know the exact date as soon as the travel agent has confirmed our various European hotel reservations. We expect to spend two days in Manhattan, and hope you will have some time for us. This trip is partly a vacation for myself, but it is also a fulfillment of a commitment I made to your mother many years ago. I promised her that one day we would visit Europe. She does not yet know about this trip. I am saving it as a surprise and intend to give her the news on her birthday, hence I sincerely hope you will not mention this (or allude to it in any form) when you write to her.

The family is in good health as usual. I am very grateful for this. Except for the usual childhood illnesses and the occasion when Douglas sprained his ankles jumping off the garage roof we have escaped serious injury and sickness. Few families are so fortunate. Let us hope our luck continues to hold. (Julia, too, remains in good health. What I would do without her I do not know.) Your sister Carolyn we have seen very little of this summer as she evidently prefers to spend as much time as possible on the golf course. The club professional repeatedly states she “has the makings of a champion”—but I am positive your mother has written you about this. We shall wait and see. Your brother is greatly relieved to have the braces off his teeth once and for all.