Evan Connell - Mr. Bridge

Mrs. Bridge had continued with her sewing while he spoke, only registering enough expression to prove that she was listening. She knew almost exactly what he would say as soon as he got started. He had stated his opinion many times. She was not expected to agree or disagree; however, some sort of acknowledgment was necessary, so she remarked when he paused: “You just wonder what drives people to do things like that.”

“I don’t know and I don’t care,” he retorted. “But I do know one thing. I know there is only one method of stopping these people. Great God, even the streets in this part of town are not safe any longer. It wasn’t six months ago that the Koeppels’ daughter was molested right up there on Stratford Road.”

“I know,” she said, shaking her head.

“But listen to these professional do-gooders and what do you get? Treat these sex maniacs like human beings and let them out as soon as the law provides. Then the same business starts all over again. That’s what you get. I’ve said it before and I intend to keep on saying it until somebody pays attention!”

“It’s a problem, there’s no doubt about that. I guess it must be awfully difficult to know just what to do.”

“I’ll tell you what to do. The same thing I’ve told you before. Do away with these people. Do away with them once and for all!”

“That sounds awfully severe. I’m not arguing, of course, and goodness knows something should be done with people who can’t seem to control themselves. But I just wonder if you can resort to capital punishment in every case.”

“You do, do you?” he replied grimly. “Well, let me tell you, I hope this fellow’s next victim is not somebody from our family. You might have a different attitude if this girl whose body was found out there by the river had been Ruth or Carolyn. You might not feel so lenient if you had seen a few of the things I have seen and talked with the police about it.”

She did not answer. She continued sewing.

He knew he had spoken harshly to her. He went on insistently, but in a more moderate tone: “There are decent people and there are people who cause nothing but trouble, and don’t tell me I don’t know what I’m talking about, because I do. I’ve seen enough of both kinds. I do not know what makes men behave like this while the majority of men behave decently throughout their lives. I do not pretend to know and I do not believe anybody knows. It is fashionable nowadays to blame the parents, or a childhood accident, or Lord knows what else. Maybe there is some truth in it, I don’t presume to know. However, I do know one thing: there is one way and one way only to put a stop to this sort of business. You get rid of these habitual criminals. Treat them like human beings and this is what you get! This is your thanks!” He struck the newspaper with the back of his hand.

“Perhaps you’re right,” she said.

“I know I’m right,” he said, and turned the page looking for something else to read.

That night he was sleeping when he realized his heart had stopped. Instantly he opened his eyes, and just then it resumed beating. He laid both hands on his chest, licked his lips, and waited for what would happen next. But his heart pumped along, and after a while he dropped his hands on the blanket and shut his eyes and tried to sleep, but sleep would not come. He could not stop thinking about his heart. He did not think there was anything seriously wrong, yet these seizures were occurring more and more often. He resented the fact that his heart was not in perfect order; and because he was unable to sleep or to forget about it he got out of bed and sat down in a chair beside the window where he plucked at his wrinkled pajamas and meditatively observed the dark street. Leaves were dropping from the maple trees, fluttering like butterflies in the night wind. He watched them and it occurred to him that they were trying to tell him something. A leaf flattened itself against the window beside his head and leaped away into the darkness, and a feeling of profound despair came over him because everything he had done was useless. All that he believed in and had attempted to prove seemed meager, all of his life was wasted.

Mrs. Bridge walked into the study with a worried expression. Carolyn had just telephoned from the university to announce that she was planning to quit her sorority. A Negro girl from a small town in western Kansas had been pledged with the full consent of the chapter, but as soon as the news leaked out there had been objections from alumnae. A group of women from Topeka had driven to Lawrence and talked to the girls, urging them to reconsider, pointing out that it would damage the sorority’s reputation. Now more pressure was being applied. Some of the girls were receiving calls from their parents. National headquarters had been notified. The president of the alumnae association was flying up from Dallas. The routine of the sorority had been completely disrupted. Most of the girls were frightened by the criticism and were in favor of telling the Negro girl they were sorry, it had been a mistake, the pledge must be renounced. But several members of the sorority were defiant. They wanted the girl to remain. Carolyn was one of these.

“I believe she really is on the verge of quitting,” Mrs. Bridge said. “She was almost in tears she was so distressed. She asked me what to do, and Heaven knows I hadn’t the slightest idea. I was wondering whether you might speak to her.”

He asked if she was still on the telephone.

“No. But I promised to call back as soon as I’d talked it over with you.”

He frowned and rocked around in his swivel chair. “What in the devil am I supposed to tell her? She got herself into this mess.”

“I know, but I did promise to call.”

“Well then, call. Tell her whatever you please. I don’t want to get mixed up in this business. Lord knows it isn’t any concern of mine.”

“I feel so sorry for everybody. That poor child — the Negro girl, I mean. It’s such a tragedy.”

“I wouldn’t waste much sympathy on her.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“I do mean it,” he said irritably. “I do not know one single thing about that girl other than the fact that she is colored, which is all I need to know. That girl knew perfectly well that by attempting to join a white sorority she was going to create a problem. Don’t tell me she didn’t realize it, because she did.”

“I’m sure she did.”

“All right, there you are. This girl deliberately and willfully set out to cause trouble.”

“We can’t assume that, Walter. You’re not being fair. She may not have had the least inkling it would start such an uproar. I imagine she wanted to join the sorority, and apparently the girls liked her.”

“She knew what she was doing. I know the type. They’re all over. They are setting out to wreck the underlying foundations of this country. This business at the university is not accidental. It is not a case of an individual wanting to join a sorority. It is part and parcel of a calculated plan these people have. Whether you care to believe it or not, that happens to be the truth. I know it for a fact. And as time goes by you’ll see I’m right.”

Mrs. Bridge sighed, and laid a hand to her forehead. “I sometimes don’t know what to think. It’s a shame these things happen.”

“Those girls in the sorority have nobody to blame except themselves, and I include Carolyn. They ought to have sense enough by the time they get to a university to realize they can’t do everything they want to. It’s their own fault. If they didn’t realize what they were getting into they are not mature enough to be making decisions. I have no sympathy for any of the parties involved in this mess.”