“If you want to stay in the theater, then you’re going to have to stay in the school.”
“I know that. I mean I am aware of that mentally — in an abstract sense. But I don’t feel it. In other words, I am not afraid of it when left alone. After reasoning with my parents and Mr. White, enough fear is instilled for me to panic. ‘Straighten up and fly right,’ as old White says.”
“Okay, but if you keep this up you’re going to get thrown out. I don’t think you want that.”
Raul sighed. It was an old and boring argument. “All right. Today is the last day. Now may we drop this specifically adolescent and tiresome question?”
“It isn’t adolescent at all. Just the opposite.”
“Oh, man, you’re gonna say responsibility in a moment, an’ I’ll murder you.”
“I don’t believe it’s a question of responsibility. But it’s the only way to do it.”
“You wouldn’t say that if you were my age. After this year I’ve got three more years of high school.”
“That’s true, that’s certainly true.” Alec stared off. “It’s a pisser. Yes indeedee, it’s a pisser.”
“I don’t want to be arrogant, but you didn’t feel the way I do now.”
“You’re right. But I was younger in ninth grade than you.”
“How old are you?”
“Sixteen.”
“You’re kidding.”
“I skipped when I was in grammar school. I also went into school a year younger. Listen, Raul, I want you to be around. So could you stop cutting?”
“Don’t worry about school. I don’t want to miss the plays, so I’ll stop cutting.”
“Good. I hope this play goes well.”
“What part are you trying for?”
“The Peasant.”
“Oh. That’s the part I’m trying for. However, I don’t expect to get it,” Raul added quickly.
Alec sneered. “Why not?”
Raul couldn’t help smiling. “Come on, the Peasant’s second lead. Since when does he give second leads to ninth graders? Anyway, why aren’t you going for Paul?”
“He’ll give that to Black.”
“Black? Black’s a football player.”
“Ah, Raul, you warm one’s heart.”
“He is a football player, right?”
“Sure, but that doesn’t…he has a truly booming voice and Mr. Miller has the bad habit of thinking that that’s good acting.”
“You depress me. It’s inconceivable. If he commits such a blasphemy to the stage I’ll ‘smote the circumcised dog — thus!’ ”
“What from?”
“It’s not quite an exact quote from Othello. Last line before he kills himself.”
“And Miller’ll be doing that play next year.”
“You’re kidding. Who’s gonna play Othello?”
“Hinton. Miller’s been planning that since Hinton was in the ninth grade.”
“Do you think he can do it?”
“Probably. Hinton’s really nice.”
“That’s not a very good criterion for casting.”
“No, it isn’t. I was just commenting.”
“Ah, yes. As it were, Cronkite commentary.”
“More or less speaking of…”
“To relate about.”
“The vague promenade of human beings.”
“The march of fools.”
“The ides of April.”
Raul groaned. “One must have more finesse, eh?”
“Very true. It was obscene.”
“But it was, in any case, a testimony of Cronkite.”
“A…gaggle of geese.”
“A veritable pride of lions.”
“Ah,” Alec smiled, “you’ve rounded the question off well.”
“Not obesely, I hope?”
“I don’t think it’s in you.”
“That, my dear boy, was an insult.”
Alec smiled. His Tareyton flowed up gently and, at an angle, met his lips. He dragged, letting a small stream escape, and just as gently let his cigarette slide back into the ashtray. “It’s time to go.”
“You bore me. I don’t want to meet Richard.”
“You, boy, better meet him.”
“Some pig-ass friend, some idiotic, time-consuming babbler.”
“Can such insolence go on without God intervening?”
“So, ladies and gentlemen, these important questions face us today on Inside Out. Stay tuned — David Susskind will return in a moment.”
“It really is time to go.”
“Ah, life, passing so…”
3.
Winding their way up one of the hills away from Broadway, Alec and Raul had taken the long route to their school. This way they would get to the rear of the school buildings. If they had taken the short route, Raul could have been seen from either Stevens or Porshe Hall. They ran across the street from the Business Office to the back courtyard of the theater. The courtyard’s walls were cement; the floor was cement, and the theater building was cement. Dampness lay like a malignant disease there, overwhelming the nostrils and depressing the spirit. Alec asked Raul to wait while he went to the gym to get Richard.
Raul, huddled in a corner of the cement walls, decided he should have a cigarette. No one, he thought, comes here until lunchtime, which was two hours away. Then again, the faculty parking lot overlooked the courtyard and it was possible someone might come. The tension mounted. He had decided nothing, but he took out his pack of cigarettes.
It had been sunny in the morning, though gray, but now the gray obscured the sun. It had just begun drizzling slightly. Raul watched the rain drop on the pack of cigarettes. The cellophane covering steamed up, and Raul smiled, muttered, “Coward,” and put them away.
From the tennis courts at the other end of the football field, Alec and Richard were coming. Raul, whose glasses were too spotted by rain to see clearly, thought Richard was wearing a suit. He wiped his glasses, but they were too far away. As they came closer, Raul saw that Richard was wearing a brown, striped Edwardian suit updated by bellbottoms. He had sparse sideburns, ending on pudgy cheeks; his thighs stretched his pants to the seams; and he wore wire-rimmed glasses. His face was round and flat; his nose thick and close to it. He not only had braces on his teeth, but the front two were covered by shiny, tough metal.
Altogether, Raul thought, a true Riverdalian.
“Raul, Richard. Richard, Raul. You saw him in Aria da Capo.”
“Hi,” Richard said, a little unsure. Raul nodded solemnly. “This way,” Richard said and led them up to the street. His car was a white Buick Electra with the convertible top up. Alec opened the bucket seat to let Raul in; the interior was upholstered in black leather, which pleased Raul.
The car lurched as it started, and Raul pulled himself up to whisper in Alec’s ear, “The prince in his deceptive carriage: white to the world, black to his soul.”
Alec smiled. Richard, puzzled, asked what Raul had said.
“Oh,” Alec said, “just a mad piece of imagery. He’s incredible like that.”
Richard nodded unconvincingly. He had never been able to make contact with Alec’s acting; cowboys and Indians at eight had become too complex for him at eighteen. He was embarrassed and disappointed by Alec’s enthusiasm for Raul. He had a headache; his life was collapsing. Nothing was going right. He had wanted to talk to Alec about it, but now, how could he? He had asked Alec, coming from the gym, if he wanted to go with him downtown to buy a book he needed. What was it Alec said? “If Raul wants to come.”
Alec, a little embarrassed for Richard, wanted to watch the effect Raul would have on him. But Raul was quiet in the back, watching the trees of Riverdale pass. The rain softened and united the colors. The melancholy was sweet. “You know it’s a beautiful day,” he said.