The Graduate

by Charles Webb

  “Benjamin?” she called. “I’m getting pretty tired of this.”

  “What?”

  “I am getting pretty tired of all this suspicion. Now if you won’t do me a simple favor I don’t know what.”

  Benjamin waited a moment, then carried the purse up to the top of the stairs.

  “I’m putting it on the top step,” he said.

  “For God’s sake, Benjamin, will you stop acting this way and bring me the purse?”

  He frowned down the hallway. A line of bright light was coming from under the bathroom door. Finally he walked slowly down the hall toward it. “Mrs. Robinson?”

  “Did you bring it up?”

  “I did,” he said. “I’m putting it here by the door.”

  “Won’t you bring it in to me?”

  “I’d rather not.”

  “All right,” she said from the other side of the door. “Put it across the hall.”

  “Where?”

  “Across the hall,” she said. “In the room where we were.”

  “Oh,” Benjamin said. “Right.” He walked quickly back into the room where Elaine’s portrait was and set the purse on the end of the bed. Then he turned around and was about to leave the room when Mrs. Robinson stepped in through the door. She was naked.

  “Oh God.”

  She smiled at him.

  “Let me out,” Benjamin said. He rushed toward the door but she closed it behind her and turned the lock under the handle.

  “Don’t be nervous,” she said.

  Benjamin turned around.

  “Benjamin?”

  “Get away from that door!”

  “I want to say something first.”

  “Jesus Christ!” Benjamin put his hands up over his face.

  “Benjamin, I want you to know I’m available to you,” she said. “If you won’t sleep with me this time—”

  “Oh my God.”

  “If you won’t sleep with me this time, Benjamin, I want you to know you can call me up any time you want and we’ll make some kind of arrangement.”

  “Let me out!”

  “Do you understand what I said?”

  “Yes! Yes! Let me out!”

  “Because I find you very attractive and any time—”

  Suddenly there was the sound of a car passing along the driveway underneath the window.

  Benjamin turned and leaped at the door. He pushed Mrs. Robinson aside, fumbled for the lock, then ran out the door and downstairs. He opened the front door of the house but then stepped back inside and hurried back onto the porch. He sat down with his drink and tried to catch his breath. The back door of the house slammed shut.

  “Is that Ben’s car in front?” Mr. Robinson called.

  “Yes sir!” Benjamin said, jumping up from the chair.

  Mr. Robinson came into the room.

  “I drove—I drove your wife home. She wanted me to drive her home so I—so I drove her home.”

  “Swell,” Mr. Robinson said. “I appreciate it.”

  “She’s upstairs. She wanted me to wait down here till you got home.”

  “Standing guard over the old castle, are you.”

  “Yes sir.”

  “Here,” Mr. Robinson said, reaching for Benjamin’s glass. “It looks like you need a refill.”

  “Oh no.”

  “What?”

  “I’ve got to go.”

  Mr. Robinson was frowning at him. “Is anything wrong?” he said. “You look a little shaken up.”

  “No,” Benjamin said. “No. I’m just—I’m just—I’m just a little worried about my future. I’m a little upset about my future.”

  “Come on,” Mr. Robinson said, taking the glass. “Let’s have a nightcap together. I didn’t get much of a chance to talk to you at the party.”

  Benjamin waited till Mr. Robinson had left the room, then took several deep breaths. When he finished taking the deep breaths he put his hands in his pockets and walked quickly back and forth till Mr. Robinson brought him his drink.

  “Thank you very much, sir,” he said as he took it.

  “Not at all,” Mr. Robinson said. He carried his drink to the chair beside Benjamin’s and sat. “Well,” he said. “I guess I already said congratulations.”

  “Thank you.”

  Mr. Robinson nodded and sipped at his drink. “Ben?” he said. “How old are you now.”

  “Twenty. I’ll be twenty-one next week.”

  Again Mr. Robinson nodded. “I guess you skipped a grade or two back there in high school,” he said. “I guess that’s why you graduated so young.”

  “Yes sir.”

  Mr. Robinson reached into his pocket for a package of cigarettes and held them out to Benjamin. He took one and put it in his mouth. “Ben?” Mr. Robinson said, picking up a book of matches and lighting the cigarette for him. “That’s a hell of a good age to be.”

  “Thank you.”

  Mr. Robinson lit a cigarette for himself and dropped the match in an ash tray. “I wish I was that age again,” he said.

  Benjamin nodded.

  “Because Ben?”

  “What.”

  “You’ll never be young again.”

  “I know.”

  “And I think maybe—I think maybe you’re a little too worried about things right now.”

  “That’s possible.”

  “You seem all wrapped up about things,” Mr. Robinson said. “You don’t seem to be—Ben, can I say something to you?”

  “What.”

  “How long have we known each other now.”

  Benjamin shook his head.

  “How long have you and I known each other. How long have your dad and I been partners.”

  “Quite a while.”

  “I’ve watched you grow up, Ben.”

  “Yes sir.”

  “In many ways I feel almost as though you were my own son.”

  “Thank you.”

  “So I hope you won’t mind my giving you a friendly piece of advice.”

  “I’d like to hear it.”

  “Ben?” Mr. Robinson said, settling back in his chair and frowning up over Benjamin’s head. “I know as sure as I’m sitting here that you’re going to do great things someday.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  “Well I am right,” he said. “That’s something I just know. But Ben?”

  “What.”

  “I think—” He dropped an ash from his cigarette into the ash tray. “I think you ought to be taking it a little easier right now than you seem to.”

  Benjamin nodded.

  “Sow a few wild oats,” Mr. Robinson said. “Take things as they come. Have a good time with the girls and so forth.”

  Benjamin glanced at the door.

  “Because Ben, you’re going to spend most of your life worrying. That’s just the way it is, I’m afraid. But right now you’re young. Don’t start worrying yet, for God’s sake.”

  “No.”

  “Before you know it you’ll find a nice little girl and settle down and have a damn fine life. But until then I wish you’d try and make up a little for my mistakes by—”

  Mrs. Robinson, dressed again in the green dress and the gold pin she had worn to the party, stepped into the room.

  “Don’t get up,” she said.

  Benjamin sat back down in the chair. Mrs. Robinson seated herself on the couch and picked up her unfinished drink from the floor.

  “I was just telling Ben here he ought to sow a few wild oats,” Mr. Robinson said. “Have a good time while he can. You think that’s sound advice?”

  Mrs. Robinson nodded.

  “Yes I sure do,” her husband said.

  Benjamin finished his drink quickly and set it down on the table beside him. “I’ve got to go,” he said.

  “Just hang on here, Ben,” Mr. Robinson said. “Wait’ll I finish my drink, then I’m going to have you spin me around the block in that new car out front.”

  “Maybe he’s tir
ed,” Mrs. Robinson said.

  “Tired, Ben?”

  “Oh no. No.” He picked up his glass and held it up to his mouth till the ice cubes clicked down against his teeth. Then he replaced it on the table.

  “Do you want another?” Mrs. Robinson said.

  “What? No.”

  “Sure,” Mr. Robinson said. “You have yourself a few flings this summer. I bet you’re quite the ladies’ man.”

  “Oh no.”

  “What?” Mr. Robinson said, grinning at him. “You look like the kind of guy that has to fight them off.”

  Benjamin reached for his glass.

  “Are you sure you won’t have another?” Mrs. Robinson said.

  “No. No.”

  Mr. Robinson turned to his wife. “Doesn’t he look to you like the kind of guy who has trouble keeping the ladies at a distance?”

  “Yes he does.”

  “Oh say,” Mr. Robinson said. “When does Elaine get down from Berkeley.”

  “Saturday,” she said.

  “Ben, I want you to give her a call.”

  “I will.”

  “Because I just know you two would hit it off real well. She’s a wonderful girl and I’m just awful sorry you two haven’t got to know each other better over the years.”

  “I am too,” Benjamin said He watched Mr. Robinson until he had taken the last swallow from his glass, then stood. “I’ll take you around the block,” he said.

  “Great.”

  Benjamin walked ahead of Mr. and Mrs. Robinson through the hall and to the front door and opened it. Mrs. Robinson stepped out onto the front porch after them.

  “Benjamin?”

  He put his hands in his pockets and walked down across the flagstone path without answering her.

  “Benjamin?”

  “What.”

  “Thank you for taking me home.”

  Benjamin nodded without turning around.

  “I’ll see you soon, I hope,” she said.

  “Hey Ben,” Mr. Robinson said, opening the door of the car and getting in. “What do you say we hit the freeway with this thing and see what she does.”

  Chapter Two

  During the next week Benjamin spent most of his time walking. On his twenty-first birthday he ate breakfast, then went out the front door, walked around the block, walked around the block again, then walked downtown. He walked back and forth along the main street till it was time to eat lunch, then went into a cafeteria. All during the afternoon he walked, sometimes stopping in a park or on a bus bench to rest a few minutes, but usually walking slowly past houses and stores, looking down at the sidewalk ahead of him.

  Late in the afternoon he returned to his own block and to his house. He walked up toward the front door but then stopped as he noticed several people sitting in the living room. He turned around and walked back toward the sidewalk but before he reached it the front door opened and his mother stepped out onto the porch.

  “Ben?”

  “What.”

  “Come on in.”

  “I’m going on a walk,” Benjamin said.

  Mrs. Braddock hurried down toward the sidewalk to where he was standing. “It’s your birthday,” she said.

  “I know that. I’m going for a walk on my birthday.”

  “Well the Arnolds came over from next door,” she said. “I said you’d fix Peter and Louise some fruit juice as soon as you got back.”

  Benjamin took a deep breath, then turned around and. walked with his mother slowly back to the house.

  “I invited the Robinsons over,” she said, “but Elaine had to stay up in Berkeley for summer school and I—”

  Benjamin had stopped and was staring at her. “Are they in there?” he said, pointing at the house.

  “What?”

  “Are Mr. and Mrs. Robinson in that house?”

  “No.”

  “Are they coming?”

  “No.”

  “Are you sure, Mother?”

  “Of course I’m sure,” she said. “Is anything wrong?”

  “No,” Benjamin said. He walked the rest of the way to the house and inside and to the living room.

  Mrs. Arnold, seated in the middle of the sofa, began waving one of her hands back and forth through the air and singing the moment she saw him. “Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday dear …”

  “Benjamin, it’s good to see you,” Mr. Arnold said, standing up and shaking his hand.

  Peter and Louise ran up to him and wrapped their arms around his legs.

  Benjamin’s father was sitting on one of the chairs beside the fireplace, a drink in his hand. “Go out and get the kids some fruit juice,” he said. “Then come on back and we have a little surprise for you.”

  Benjamin walked slowly across the living room with Peter and Louise still hanging onto his legs and laughing. He pushed open the door of the kitchen and walked inside. “Get off my legs,” he said when the door was closed.

  They smiled up into his face.

  “Get off my legs, I said!”

  They released his legs and walked slowly to one of the corners of the room. Benjamin shook his head and opened the door of the refrigerator and looked inside. “What do you want,” he said. “Grape juice or orange juice.”

  They stared at him from the corner without answering.

  “Grape juice or orange juice!” Benjamin said, clenching his fist.

  “Grape juice.”

  “All right then.” He reached into the refrigerator for a bottle of grape juice and filled two small glasses. Peter and Louise walked across the kitchen to take them.

  “Thank you.”

  Benjamin poured himself a glass of grape juice and carried it back into the living room.

  “Ben?” his father said, grinning at him. “I think you’ll get a real big kick out of your present this year.”

  Benjamin nodded and sat down on the sofa beside Mrs. Arnold.

  “We’ve been hearing all about it,” Mrs. Arnold said. “I can’t wait to see it.”

  “Shall I bring it in now?” his father said.

  “What.”

  “Your present.”

  Benjamin nodded and took a sip of the grape juice.

  Mr. Braddock stood and left the room. When he came back several moments later he was carrying a large square box wrapped in white paper. “Many happy returns,” he said, placing it on the rug at Benjamin’s feet.

  “I can’t wait,” Mrs. Arnold said.

  Benjamin looked at her a moment, then reached down to break two strips of Scotch tape holding the paper together. Inside was a brown cardboard box. Mr. Arnold crossed the room to stand over him and watch him open it. Benjamin pulled up the two flaps of the carton and looked down into it.

  “What is it,” he said.

  “Well pull her on up,” his father said.

  Inside the box was something made of black rubber that looked like several uninflated inner tubes folded up on top of each other. Benjamin reached down and pulled it out.

  “Now unfold it,” his father said.

  Benjamin held it up and let it unfold. It was a suit. There were two black arms and two legs and a zipper running up the front of it and a black hood.

  “What is it,” Benjamin said. “Some kind of rubber suit?”

  Mr. Arnold laughed. “It’s a diving suit,” he said.

  “Oh,” Benjamin said. He looked at it a moment longer, then nodded and began returning it to the box. “Thanks.”

  “You’re not through yet,” his father said, pulling it back up and holding it. “Keep digging.”

  “Isn’t this exciting,” Mrs. Arnold said.

  Peter and Louise came over to sit on the rug beside him and watch.

  Benjamin reached down into the box and drew out a rubber mask with a glass plate in it, and two hoses leading out from the side of it.

  “That’s your mask,” his father said.

  Peter Arnold took it from him to hold. Benjamin reached in a
gain for a large silver cylinder with the words COMPRESSED AIR stenciled on it in orange letters.

  “That’s your oxygen supply.”

  “I can see that,” Benjamin said. He dropped the tank on the rug and reached into the box a final time and pulled up two black rubber fins. He looked at them a moment, then dropped them back into the box and sat back on the couch. “Thanks,” he said. He reached for his grape juice.

  “Well now, let’s have a show before it gets dark,” Mr. Braddock said.

  “What?”

  “I’ll be right back,” his father said. He turned around and hurried out of the room.

  “What did he say?”

  “I think he wants you to give us an exhibition out in the swimming pool,” Mrs. Braddock said.

  “Oh no,” Benjamin said, straightening up on the couch.

  Mr. Braddock returned carrying a long metal spear and handed it to Benjamin.

  “Listen,” Benjamin said.

  “Go on up and get your gear on,” his father said. “I’ll set up some chairs out by the pool.”

  “Look,” Benjamin said, shaking his head. “This is a great gift, but if you don’t mind—”

  “Let’s go,” Mr. Braddock said. He began gathering up the equipment from the floor and handing it to Benjamin.

  “Dad, it’s just what I wanted and all that but I can’t—”

  “We want to be sure it’s safe,” his mother said.

  “Safe? Sure it is. Look.” He reached down into the floor of the box and pulled out a white slip of paper. “Here’s the guarantee right here.”

  “Let’s go,” his father said, taking his arm and pulling him up from the couch.

  “This is ludicrous, Dad.”

  “Come on,” Mr. Arnold said, grinning at him. “Let’s see a few underwater stunts.”

  “Oh my God.”

  “Let’s get to it,” Mr. Braddock said. He piled the equipment in Benjamin’s arms and began pushing him toward the hall.

  “Come on now, Dad.”

  His father left him standing in the hall and returned to the living room. Benjamin waited a moment, then walked back to the entrance of the room.

  “Dad?”

  “What’re you still doing down here.”

  “Could I see you a minute, please?”

  “Oh no. You get ready.”

  “Could I see you a minute in the hall, please!”

  Mr. Braddock walked back into the hall.

  “Now I refuse to make a goddamn ass of myself in front of the Arnolds.”