The Last Picture Show

by Larry McMurtry

  “You can have two if you want them,” she said, and she made him two while he sat nervously in the booth. When she brought them in he swallowed the first one in only five or six bites.

  “Quit eating so fast,” Genevieve said. “You’ve lost weight. Even if it was a terrible thing to do to Billy, I’m on your side.”

  Sonny was grateful. “I couldn’t talk them out of it,” he said. “It was Leroy’s idea.”

  “Where was Duane?” she asked.

  It was a ticklish question. Duane had gone right on using the café and the poolhall, just as if he hadn’t been along. It was a sore spot with the other boys, and a few of them wanted to tell Sam the Lion about Duane’s part in it. Thinking about it made Sonny uneasy.

  “He was there,” he admitted. “Just don’t tell Sam.”

  “I figured he was,” Genevieve said quietly. “He just didn’t have the decency to own up and take his punishment. He probably got just as big a kick out of it as Leroy did.”

  Sonny was embarrassed and kept eating the cheeseburger. Nobody had ever criticized Duane in front of him before—for no reason that he could think of life was becoming more complicated.

  “Well, I won’t say no more about it,” she said. “That’s between you and him. But you’ve got to make up with Sam, that’s for sure. I won’t have you eating at that drive-in anymore. He misses you and he’ll make it up if you do it right. He knows you too well to think you really went out of your way to upset Billy.”

  “How’s Dan?” Sonny asked.

  “Coming along. He’s well enough to be contrary.”

  Sonny began to relax. The café was just the same: the jukebox, the booths, the high-school football schedule pinned on the wall. Genevieve cradled the coffee cup in her hand and stared at the frost-smoked windows.

  “I’ve gotten into something else,” Sonny said tentatively. She was the only person he could think of that he might be able to talk to.

  “Got a new girl friend?” she grinned, and then she suddenly remembered the gossip. Until that moment she had not taken it at all seriously.

  “I guess I have,” Sonny said. “Not a girl friend, a lady friend. It’s Mrs. Popper.” He didn’t know whether he was glad to have the secret out, and Genevieve was not sure at all that she was glad to have received it.

  “Ruth Popper?” she said, amazed. “How do you mean, Sonny? Have you been flirtin’ with her like you do with me, or is it different?”

  “It’s different,” he said. “It’s… like in a movie.”

  She saw that he was watching her face, dreadfully anxious to know what she thought about the news.

  “I don’t know what to think about you,” she said. “Quit lookin’ at me that way. This is an awful small town for that kind of carrying on, I can tell you that. You can’t sneeze in this town without somebody offerin’ you a handkerchief.”

  “Coach Popper don’t care nothin’ about her,” Sonny said. “I don’t see why he should care.”

  “He cares about himself, though—and about what people think of him. He owns a lot of guns, too.”

  Sonny looked so young and solemn and confused that after a moment it all amused her and she chuckled. He looked far too confused to be into anything wicked.

  “All right,” she said. “I won’t say no more about it. You’re a man of experience now, you don’t need my advice anyway.”

  Sonny didn’t know about advice, but he was glad to have her approval, however he could get it. He had some pie and chatted about lesser things until the streets outside were gray with a cold dawn. Genevieve got up to tend to the coffee maker.

  “I better go on,” Sonny said. “Sam’s going to be coming any time.”

  “You stay,” Genevieve said, not even turning around.

  Sonny didn’t like the idea, but he didn’t have long to worry about it. In a few minutes the café door opened and Sam the Lion and Billy stepped inside. Sam had on his old plaid mackinaw, his khakis, and his house shoes. When he saw Sonny he opened his mouth to say something but Genevieve cut him off.

  “Don’t say a word,” she said. “I won’t have him eating at that drive-in no more. He can apologize like a civilized person and you can listen to him.”

  When Billy saw Sonny his face brightened and he went right over and sat down by him. He had forgotten all about the bad night, and didn’t remember anything bad that Sonny had done. Sonny turned his baseball cap around backward for him.

  “I’m sorry,” Sonny said, when Sam the Lion came to the booth.

  “Scoot over,” Sam said, a little embarrassed. “If Billy can stand you I can too.” He sat down by Sonny and ordered his sausage and eggs. Sonny was so relieved that he couldn’t think of anything to say, and Sam the Lion was so relieved that he couldn’t keep quiet. There was the basketball team to talk about, a disgraceful, hapless basketball team that hadn’t come within thirty points of winning a game. Sam the Lion gave it hell, and continued giving it hell as the café filled, as the cowboys and the truckers came in, blowing on their cold hands. Soon smoke was rising from a dozen or more cups of Genevieve’s coffee. Sam the Lion poured his in a saucer and went on talking while the two boys, not listening, happily ate their breakfasts.

  CHAPTER XIII

  IT WAS IN THE early spring, when Sonny was really beginning to get in touch with Ruth, that Duane really began to get out of touch with Jacy. He forgave her for going to the nude swimming party in Wichita, but somehow they were never as comfortable with one another as they had been before that happened. The thing that bothered Duane most was that, instead of going to Wichita less and less, Jacy was going more and more. It got so he was lucky if he spent one Saturday night a month with her. Time after time she drove off to Wichita with Lester Marlow, always, she said, because her mother insisted. Duane raged and stormed, but he never quite got up the guts to have it out with Lois. Instead, he decided to concentrate on getting Jacy to marry him as soon as they graduated. He knew she had her application in to several fancy girls’ schools, and he realized that if she got away to college he would have seen the last of her. His only chance was to marry her sometime during the summer, while she was still at home.

  Jacy, however, had put aside all thought of marrying Duane. She had convinced herself that that would be a very selfish thing to do. Her parents, particularly her father, would never stand for it: he would have it annulled, Duane would lose his job and would probably be in the army before the summer was out. It would clearly be unfair of her to put Duane in such a position. If she sacrificed what she felt for him, he could keep his job and stay out of the army several months longer. It was the sort of thing he would thank her for someday.

  The truth was, Jacy had been very strongly affected by the nude swimming party. Unknown to anyone but herself and Lester she had been back several times to exactly the same type of party. All the Saturday night trips were of her own arranging, but she told Duane they were her mother’s doings. Duane was too naïve to understand her wanting to mix with kids like herself, kids who had money and lived recklessly. It would save everyone misery to let him think it was her mother’s fault.

  Jacy had begun to be very attracted to Bobby Sheen, the leader of the wild set. He was not especially handsome, but he combed his hair in a rakish fashion and he was always merry and lustful. It was rumored that he and Annie-Annie made love four times a week, sometimes in curious ways. He had an air of absolute confidence, as if he were ready for anything and could do anything that might be demanded of him. At first Jacy didn’t give herself much of a chance with him, supposing that he and Annie-Annie would soon get married; but then she danced with him one night and took hope. He got erections while dancing with her, just like other boys did.

  A week or so after that she thought it was really going to happen between Bobby and herself. After one of the naked swimming parties the boys and girls paired off and went to bed in various bedrooms of the huge Sheen house. Jacy had to share a bed with Lester Marlow, but that was all r
ight; the first time it had happened she made it quite clear to Lester that sharing the bed was all she intended to do. Anything more intimate was out of the question. Lester had red pubic hair, which seemed to her ridiculous. After this particular party Lester and Jacy both went to sleep, as usual, but somebody woke Jacy up by kissing her. It was Bobby Sheen, and he didn’t have any clothes on. When he saw she was wide awake he quietly motioned for her to follow him, and she did, trembling a little. Fortunately she had on some green pajamas, so it was not too immodest.

  Bobby led her down the carpeted hall to an empty bedroom and the minute he got her through the door he unbuttoned her pajama top and began to play with her breasts. He was merry and confident about it all and it didn’t occur to Jacy to stop him. There was a huge double bed in the room and once they got on it Bobby undressed her completely. Jacy was excited and decided to cast caution to the winds. She let him get between her legs and was prepared to let him go all the way, but he stopped wanting to. He started to and did something that hurt a little before he stopped, looking at her with disbelief.

  “Are you a virgin?” he asked.

  “I guess so,” Jacy admitted miserably. “But I don’t want to be.”

  Bobby made a face of mock-horror, as if he had discovered a leper in his bed.

  “What a letdown,” he said, but with his usual good cheer. “I’m sorry I woke you up. Why don’t I give you the name of a gynecologist? There’s no point in being messy on Momma and Daddy’s bed.”

  “Okay,” Jacy said, eager to be agreeable. She was not sure what having the name of such a person committed her to, but she was willing to try anything Bobby recommended. The look on his face made her realize that it was absolutely ridiculous for her to be a virgin: she was probably the only one in the whole house. That thought was so mortifying that she sat up and reached for her pajamas, prepared to go ignominiously back to bed. Bobby, however, was not all that discouraged.

  “Don’t run off,” he said cheerfully. “I was just surprised. If you’re not sleepy we can still play around a while.”

  Jacy was not sure what that involved either, but she dutifully lay back down. “What about Annie-Annie?” she asked.

  “That bitch sleeps like a horse,” Bobby said.

  Jacy was quite shocked to discover all that “playing around” involved. Bobby Sheen knew amazing things to do, things she would not have put up with one second if it had been anyone other than him. As it was, she was determined not to show her ignorance and just let him do whatever he pleased. Him doing things was okay, but when he wanted her to do things to him she was so nervous and shaky that she got goose bumps all over. Bobby couldn’t help giggling.

  “Don’t boys have cocks in that town you live in?” he asked, laughing.

  Jacy was at a loss for an answer. For days she could not get the evening off her mind. It seemed to her she had come off very badly with Bobby. He didn’t call her for any dates afterward, and every other boy who had ever been near her had promptly called her for dates. The only conclusion possible was that Bobby found her backward and country, and if there was anything she hated and loathed it was to be thought backward and country. It was clear that she was going to have to get rid of her virginity. She gave the matter much thought and came up with a plan that seemed to have multiple advantages. The week after graduation the senior class was going on what was called their senior trip. For four years the class had saved up money for it, and had given bake sales, conducted scrap iron drives, and done all sorts of other chores to make the money. They were going all the way to San Francisco and back on the bus and it would take every bit of the money they had made. She and Duane would thus be together practically all the time for a whole week, and it occurred to her that if she let Duane sleep with her sometime during the trip it would solve all kinds of problems. For one thing, it would make the senior trip. She and Duane would be regarded as extraordinarily daring, and all the kids would talk about them all the way home. Also, if she slept with Duane a time or two it would make it that much easier for her to break up with him after the senior trip was over. Duane would have something beautiful to remember, and he wouldn’t be able to say she had promised him anything she hadn’t delivered.

  Then when she got back from the trip she would no longer be a virgin and could set about taking Bobby Sheen away from Annie-Annie. If she could get him in love with her before the summer was over she might forget about the girls’ school and go to S.M.U., where Bobby was going. They might even pledge related fraternities.

  The one flaw in the whole plan was Duane. It occurred to her that he might not want to break up with her even if she let him sleep with her before breaking the news. He was dead set on their getting married in the summer, and he was a very stubborn boy. She decided that the best thing to do would be to make an ally of Sonny—she knew Sonny would do anything she wanted him to if she played up to him the least little bit. If Duane got ugly and wouldn’t quit trying to go with her she could then date Sonny a few times. Duane would never in his life excuse that.

  The senior play was rehearsing at that time and Sonny and Jacy both had parts. In order to strengthen her hold over him Jacy started giving Sonny a ride home every night; often, at her suggestion, they would ride out to the lake and sit and talk a while before going home. Jacy mostly wanted to talk about Duane, about how much she wanted to marry him but how frightened she was that it would never work out, her parents being set against it like they were. Sonny tried to listen, but mostly he just looked. Jacy had a way of leaning forward so she could hook a finger inside her blouse and straighten her bra strap, a movement that always made him ache with desire. Even the flash of her white teeth as she popped her chewing gum—even that could cause discomfort. Once in a moment of emotion she reached out and they held hands for a little while. “I tell you I don’t know what I would do if I didn’t have you to talk to, Sonny,” she said affectionately.

  At such times Sonny could hardly keep from wishing that Duane and perhaps Ruth too were out of the picture. Jacy was everything he wanted. She had always seemed infinitely more desirable than Charlene or the other girls, but she had also begun to seem cool and simple and lovely in contrast to Ruth, who had begun to disturb him a good deal. Once Ruth found pleasure her need for him rapidly increased and her sensual appetite had become, if anything, stronger than his own. At first he had found it delightful—he had never imagined that he would ever in his life have as much sex as he wanted. By the time he had visited Ruth almost daily for a month he was forced to admit to himself that it might even be possible to have more than he wanted. Ruth lost all caution, all concern for what the townspeople might think. All she wanted was Sonny, and he began to feel strangely washed out and restless. He ceased to eat particularly much, or to sleep particularly well. Despite almost daily sex he had erotic dreams at night and would often wake up to find himself painfully engorged.

  As he grew more tired and less certain of himself, Ruth seemed to grow fresher, more self-possessed, and more lovely, though it was only at odd, oblique moments, lying beside her or coming into her room, that he noticed that she was lovely. Instead of drooping about the house as she had once done she acquired grace and animation and moved about as active and lithe as a girl. She even repapered the bedroom, much to the coach’s disgust.

  Sonny found he could not keep a consistent feeling about her two days or even two hours in a row. At one moment, during lovemaking, seeing her become avid, sweaty, almost frenzied, he felt as he had the first day with her in the car, as if he were being pulled by some force stronger than his own. A few moments later, an hour later, he would see her, her face calmed, lit from within, her eyes wide and soft, and feel completely happy with her. He simply could not understand what had happened to her. When she touched him, drew him into her, it was not that she was trying to have him exactly—she was insisting that he have her. She was not saying “You’re mine,” she was saying “I’m yours,” and that was almost more troubling. She was c
ompletely focused on him; the rest of her life had ceased to matter.

  Her hair had grown longer, and he loved to smooth tendrils of it back behind her ears. But he wasn’t sure that he wanted any person to be his: it made him too responsible.

  “You’re my love, I can’t help it,” she would say, if he brought the matter up. And she would go on brushing her hair, completely at peace with herself because of him.

  One night he almost gave way to an impulse and spoke of Ruth to Jacy, but he didn’t because he realized just in time that it would mean the end of his talks with Jacy. She wanted to talk about her problems, not his. Because of their talks she began to fill his fantasies again, and the fantasies made a fitful background to his afternoons with Ruth. Somehow he was sure that passion with Jacy would be more intense and yet less strained than it sometimes was with Ruth. With Jacy things would be sharper and better timed, and would never be blunted by anxiety or bad balance or anything.

  To Ruth, that period of her life later seemed a little insane, but insane in a good way. She remembered little about it, just Sonny’s person. Occasionally it occurred to her that people were probably talking, or that she ought to go to the store or somewhere, but none of those things seemed immediate. Sonny was the only thing immediate.

  Later, when time was passing much more slowly, she told herself that she had not planned well—she had not thought to save anything. She had held nothing back for the morrow, but it was because she did not suppose she could afford to think about the morrow.

  It was not until an evening in early May that the fact of a future was brought home to her. Sonny had come that afternoon, and all had gone well. Three hours later, while Herman was finishing his supper, Ruth went out into the backyard and began to take some clothes off the line. It was just dusk, a soft spring dusk, and as she was unpinning Herman’s stiff, unironed khakis a car went by on the street. Idly curious, she glanced around to see who was passing and saw Sonny and Jacy, on their way to play practice in Jacy’s convertible.