In the Fall They Come Back

by Robert Bausch

  Suzanne,

  For you, and just the beginning, I hope.

  Ben

  The seniors filed in and I noticed Leslie take her seat, not looking at anyone. She only had her notebook with her. The others talked and joked as they got settled. Suzanne came in, head down as usual, and sat down. I saw her pick up the magazine, and stare at it. She ran her fingers over its surface, studying the cover. She took off my note and put it in her bag. Then she put the magazine down under her chair. She almost didn’t look at it. I got everybody to be quiet, then I said, “Take some time and read in your texts for a while. Or whatever you want. We’ll have a little quiet reading time.”

  I didn’t look directly at her, but I saw her reach under her chair and retrieve the magazine. She opened it and began paging through it. I watched her now. The others had settled down and were reading quietly. I was standing at my desk, leaning back against it, and when Suzanne got to pages 38 and 39 she seemed to freeze. It was almost as if someone had shouted at her from the surface of her desk. She ran her long, white, fingers over the page as she read what was there, and then by god she raised her head up and looked at me. Her eyes were green, brimmed with tears, and beautiful. Her bright red hair draped on either side of her face made her look almost angelic. For a flawless moment, she stared at me, and I stared at her. I think I had this ridiculous grin on my face. I know I was very happy that she was actually sitting upright and looking at me with those eyes. And something else happened to me. I don’t know how to explain this—I mean I can’t say why it made me feel this way—but I wanted to understand it and still do. I was ecstatically happy. I had no reason for it, but that is what it was: Happiness, pure and simple.

  Somebody sneezed and broke the trance. Suzanne looked down at her desk for a second, then she closed the magazine and holding it against her breast, got up, grabbed her book bag and ran out of the room.

  I wasn’t sure what to make of that. I think she was crying. I made sure everybody was working, then I ambled out into the hall. I didn’t find her there, so I went into Mrs. Creighton’s office. Mrs. Creighton was sitting at her desk with those glasses on, writing on a pad. When she noticed I was there, she looked up.

  “Did Suzanne come in here?” I asked.

  “No.”

  “Well—she just got up and left my class.”

  “Maybe she went to the bathroom.”

  “You think?”

  “I can have Doreen check, if you want.”

  “No,” I said. “I’ll wait and see.” Then I asked if she could talk for a bit and she nodded. I sat down and told her what I had done with Suzanne’s poems.

  “And they’re published?”

  I was still proud of it, so I was smiling when I said, “They sure are.”

  “What were you thinking?” Mrs. Creighton said, an expression of horror on her face.

  “What?”

  “That little girl is so private, so terribly afraid of …”

  “No,” I interrupted her. “Nothing in the poems is about her. I don’t even think the personal pronoun I appears in them. They’re all very abstract.”

  “They are.” She was gazing at me, still with that look on her face.

  “Yes. And what’s more, she looked up when I gave her the magazine.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “She sat straight up and looked me in the face.”

  “And you think that’s some kind of breakthrough?”

  It was a trick question. I could see she already thought she had the answer. She sat back and placed the tips of her fingers together so that her two hands made a sort of temple between her face and mine. It didn’t matter how happy I was, she was not very pleased. I wondered if maybe she knew something about what had gone on with Leslie. I didn’t know where to place my hands. Finally I said, “I don’t think it’s a breakthrough, but isn’t it progress?”

  “You think so.” This was a statement.

  “Has she ever looked at you that way?”

  “No.”

  “Or anyone else?”

  “She looks at her mother.”

  “Now she looks at me,” I said. “Her eyes are green, by the way.”

  “I wonder if you know what kind of chance you took with her.”

  I shrugged. I guess I knew it was a chance, but Drummond convinced me it was a good thing. Who complains about being published? “I thought it would be a very good thing,” I said. “The poems were good enough to publish, apparently.”

  She took a very deep breath that turned into an exasperated sigh. “You don’t have any idea of taking precautions do you. You just act. Just go ahead and do things without considering consequences.”

  “No I don’t. I mean I consider consequences.”

  “You don’t. That’s the one thing I’ve noticed about you.”

  “I hadn’t noticed.”

  “At the prom last spring, did you think about what might happen when you challenged that big bully to go outside and have a cigarette with you?”

  “I just suggested we go have a cigarette. I didn’t challenge him.” I couldn’t believe that was her take on what I had done. I thought everybody agreed I had pretty much saved the day.

  “It was a reckless thing to do.”

  “Mr. Creighton said …”

  “I know he was impressed. I wasn’t.” She put her hands down in front of her and stared at me, still frowning. It looked as though she was trying to read something written very small on my forehead. “I want you to consider things a little better than you do. Understand?”

  “I understand,” I said.

  “Now you should get back to your class. Let me know if Suzanne doesn’t return.”

  I was pretty dejected, to tell the truth. I think she saw that.

  As I was leaving she smiled. “Don’t worry, I still believe you will be a wonderful teacher.”

  I said nothing. I waved slightly and went on back to my class.

  45

  Roses in Spring

  Suzanne did not come back to class that day. Apparently she waited outside until the end of class then when her mother came to pick her up she simply took the Hounds-Tooth home with her and that was that. If I wanted to see the magazine ever again, I’d have to get it from Drummond. I never got any poems from her after that, either. It was so late in the year though, she might have been done writing poems by that time. They had thinned out near the end there anyway. But I was still a little worried about her, to tell the truth. You have to be vigilant with such a delicate and fragile person. Annie said I had again pulled a bonehead play. But Suzanne had actually looked at me. I saw her green eyes, bright with wonder. Suddenly she was alive for me in ways she never had been before. I realized that was what her look was: a sign of life. And that is probably at least part of the reason it made me so happy.

  I didn’t argue with Annie about Suzanne though. I thought I did the right thing, and still do. The only thing I argued with Annie about was the prom that year. I was really hurt that she refused to go with me. “I’ve been there,” she said.

  “Well, I have to go.”

  “You can pretend to be sick.”

  “No, I can’t. It’s expected of me. I don’t want to go alone.”

  “Well I’m not going. I don’t want to buy a new dress and I’m certainly not going to wear the same dress I wore last year.”

  “Why not?” I asked. “Everybody said you looked beautiful.”

  “You don’t wear the same dress the next year, you just don’t.”

  “I’m going to wear the same tuxedo.”

  “You don’t have to. Rent something different.”

  I didn’t want to argue. We’d been doing nothing but arguing that whole year it seemed. I was always disappointed and saddened when I got home in the late afternoon and she wasn’t there—but on the other hand, sometimes, even in my sadness, I reveled in the solitude. It’s hard to be under scrutiny all the time, and lately it seemed as if Annie was always l
ooking for faults.

  The prom that year was earlier in the spring—the third week in May—because it had been so hot the year before. I rented the same tuxedo, and Mrs. Creighton rented the same hall. Mr. Creighton again put on a show that stopped everyone; he played a version of The Allman Brothers’ song, “Blue Sky,” pounding on that guitar with such energy I couldn’t sit still.

  Doreen wore a dress this time. A pale blue sleeveless gown with some sort of cloth configuration in the middle under her breasts that looked like a white rose. It had a white ribbon that trailed down in front. Her hair was cut a little shorter but parted in the middle, and it shone under the spinning overhead lights in such a brilliant pattern, she really was kind of attractive. Her eyes were dark—especially in that light—and her dark thin eyebrows curved perfectly over them. You couldn’t see the scars on her jaw and chin or on the cheeks either side of her nose. That was a function of the light, but also probably some pretty heavy foundation. She sat by herself again, at a table not far removed from Mr. and Mrs. Creighton, Granby, and me.

  Since Annie was not with me I was a little reluctant to be anywhere near Doreen, but I realized she couldn’t be left to sit by herself like that. It might have been easier if there was some booze to help me out, but finally I decided I had to say something to her. I figured I would ask her to join us, but then a shadowy, tall, slightly portly figure crossed the dimly lit room and sat down next to her. She smiled and he kissed her hand and when he leaned into the light to do that I realized it was Professor Bible. Mr. Creighton finished his set, and I could see the disc jockey setting up behind him. The quiet couldn’t last too much longer.

  I walked over and said hello to Professor Bible and he said he was glad to see me. I motioned for him to remain seated, and then I too kissed Doreen’s hand. “You look lovely,” I said. “All the ladies do.”

  “Have you seen Leslie?” she asked. It was not ironic; she was enthusiastic about the way Leslie looked. “You’ve never seen such an angel.”

  I sat down next to Bible. “How’ve you been, sir?”

  He smiled. “Lost a little weight. I’m taking it easy.”

  “It’s good to see you.”

  He turned back to Doreen. I felt as if he were sort of leaving me out there with my tuxedo; almost as if he were excluding me. I sat there for a while as he talked to Doreen. His back was to me and I couldn’t hear a word he was saying because the disc jockey had started playing his records. But as I started to go back to my table he grabbed my arm and yelled, “Where you going?”

  I shrugged.

  He pulled me back toward him. “Come on, sit with us.”

  I sat back down and he leaned away from the table and put his arms over the backs of my chair and Doreen’s. When the music stopped momentarily he said, “It’s good to see you guys again.” I wondered what he would say if he knew what I had been up to.

  Then I saw Leslie. She was standing next to an older gentleman who was very lean and tall. He had slightly graying hair over his ears and a broad forehead under dark hair combed straight back. I realized, just as Doreen announced it, that it was Leslie’s father.

  “Wow,” I said.

  “Imposing fellow,” Bible said.

  Leslie caught my eye and gave a slight wave of her hand. She did not smile. She wore a white dress that was open in the back, but that covered the front of her completely. It had some sort of filigree, or lacy pattern above her chest, dark patches of skin and shadows showing through. She wore pure white pearl earrings and a pearl necklace that wrapped around her throat above the dress in three rows. It was an absolutely stunning effect. The dress was floor-length and seemed to have layers of lace and delicate silky white cloth. Wrapped around her waist was a series of bows and ribbons, all whiter than the dress if that was possible. The dress made her skin look dark and smooth. She had two bright red roses in her hair, on one side, just above her ear, which seemed to keep her gold hair back on that side. Her father wore a black tuxedo, and he was a full head and shoulders taller than she was. He took her elbow and sort of moved her into the darkness on the other side of the room. I wondered what kind of asshole would insist on accompanying his daughter to her senior prom.

  Then I saw George. He was attending his first prom. He wore a purple tux with black lapels and a black cummerbund. Something about the way he carried himself made me proud. I know I had nothing to do with it, but he showed more confidence now—he’d grown of course from last year and all that weightlifting was paying off. I noticed some of the girls looking at him when he came in. As a date he’d brought a cousin—later I learned his mother had forced this on him—but his cousin was dark and pretty and he didn’t seem to mind.

  I watched others file in: Jaime Nichols, looking a little frightened and tentative; Harvey Mailler with his gangly walk, wearing a white tux with some sort of fluffy shirt underneath. He looked a little like a pirate. Mark Talbot in a black tux with tails and a white tie; Happy Bell in a white tux with black socks, an outfit I’m sure he designed himself; Pam Green in a dress that seemed to puff her shoulders and the fat around her shoulder blades. All of them walked in as though they were prancing before a camera, as though the evening news would be reporting their arrival.

  Suzanne Rule, of course, never came to prom.

  The music kept the room shaking enough that I didn’t have to explain Annie’s absence to anyone. In fact, I didn’t have to say very much to anybody if I didn’t want to. After a while, Bible turned to me and patted my arm. His lips moved but I couldn’t hear his voice. I leaned closer and signaled to him that I couldn’t hear.

  He hollered, “You decided what you’re going to do next year?”

  “I don’t know,” I screamed.

  Doreen looked at me. Then she took a little piece of paper out of her purse, borrowed a pen from Bible and wrote, You better be back here next year, you bastard.

  I thought it was really sweet. She took the tone of one of the boys with me. She had long ago let me off the hook for our kiss, and this note was further confirmation that we would be okay. I smiled.

  To tell the truth, I hadn’t really thought much about the next year. It was too early. I had sent out some applications, as I said, but it was really just to see. I guess you could say I was letting my applications decide for me.

  It was good to see Professor Bible that night. He looked healthy, and maybe happy. Mr. Creighton came over and shook his hand and they made a joke about the Washington Redskins. Mrs. Creighton nodded his way, and smiled at me every time I looked over there.

  Sometime in the middle of the evening, Professor Bible, Doreen, and I went outside. It was a bright, cool night. The moon made shadows everywhere. Bible took a flask out of his jacket and the three of us sipped a little bourbon.

  “Good stuff,” Doreen said through her teeth. It definitely made her squint.

  “That’s a really nice dress,” I said.

  “Thank you.”

  “I liked the tux, last year.”

  Bible said, “Tux?”

  “I wore a tuxedo last year.”

  “Really.”

  “In protest because you didn’t attend.”

  Bible laughed.

  The three of us stood there. Bible said he wanted a cigarette. Breezes picked up and moved swiftly through the leaves around us. I had this secret burning its way through my mind. What would he say if he knew about Leslie? But I was determined not to tell him.

  Doreen brought it up. “So, if I go inside and bum three cigarettes, will you tell me what happened with Leslie?”

  Bible looked at me.

  “Nothing happened,” I said.

  “Tell her,” Bible said. “I want a cigarette.”

  I shook my head.

  Doreen said to Bible, “Leslie is pregnant. And this guy wanted to know about abortion clinics.”

  Bible’s expression did not change, but he let his eyes fall slightly—as though the news reminded him of something painful.


  “Go ahead and get the cigarettes,” I said.

  Doreen went back inside and Bible and I were alone. Across the lawn and down by the road, cars lined up at a traffic light. Each time the light changed we could hear the small, distant, muffled increase of motors. I thought of all the corners in the world—all of them, in every single hamlet—just like this one: filthy cars and trucks, buses and motorcycles, crowding together always, for all time engines burning inside, each one blowing invisible poison out of its pipes. It didn’t seem possible that the earth could possibly survive.

  It was quiet a long time, then finally Bible said, “Is there something you want to tell me?”

  “I thought we’d wait for Doreen.”

  “What happened?”

  I looked at him. “To Leslie?”

  “You can start there.”

  “Well, she did get pregnant.” I couldn’t look at him. Inside, the music stopped and everybody began cheering. Then somebody said something into the microphone and the music started up again.

  “Go on,” Bible said.

  Doreen came back with a pack of Marlboro Lights.

  “Where’d you get those?” I asked.

  “Bummed them from Leslie’s father.”

  “Really. That’s ironic as hell.”

  She smiled broadly and passed out the cigarettes. “Go on,” she said. “What did you tell Leslie?”

  “I gave her the address.”

  “And what happened?”

  “She’s not pregnant anymore.”

  Doreen’s mouth dropped open. “No.”

  Bible lit his cigarette and handed me the matches. I lit mine and Doreen’s. Then I told them the whole story. I was pretty plain about it. I didn’t mention the kiss, Leslie’s tears, or how I had brushed them away from her eyes after I kissed her.