Boys and Girls Together: A Novel

by William Goldman

  “Hey out there I’m done in here.” She opened the bathroom door a crack.

  “Proud of you.”

  “Well ...”

  “Well what?”

  “Turn off the light, dopey.”

  “The switch is clear across the room and I’m naked.”

  “Put something on.”

  “No, I don’t think I want to do that.”

  “You don’t think what? Listen, you can see through what I’m wearing.”

  “It’s very strange, but I’m absolutely unable to move.”

  “Oh, a wise guy,” Tony said. “God save us all.” She gave a very loud sigh. “All right; I’ll turn out the light. But you can’t look.”

  “Do you honestly expect me not to look?”

  “If you didn’t look, I’d never forgive you,” and she threw the bathroom door open, dashing across the floor to the wall switch, and then the room was dark, but not before Walt had seen the outline of her body beneath the white nylon negligee.

  There was no sound in the room, nothing but their breathing, and in the darkness Walt had difficulty seeing her until she stood by the far end of the bed, her body outlined again in the faint gray light from the window. She bent down a moment, pulling back the covers.

  Omigod, Walt thought. Omigod.

  “Of course you’ve got to promise not to touch me,” Tony said.

  “What?”

  “You’ve got to promise to be a good boy. Otherwise you can’t stay.”

  “Sure, I promise.”

  “You really mean that now; no fooling around.”

  “I promise, I promise.”

  “All right then,” Tony said, and she jumped into bed, lying stretched out, her back to him. “Sheets are cold,” she said, and she began wriggling her body around.

  I’m dying, Walt thought.

  “Don’t you just love listening to the rain?”

  “Oh, absolutely.”

  “Let’s listen to the rain, Walt. Let’s hold our breath and listen to the rain.”

  They held their breath a while.

  “Hey,” Walt said finally.

  “Shhh. It’s just so beautiful, don’t spoil it.”

  “I won’t make a sound,” Walt said, and he rose up on one elbow and gently blew on her back.

  “Ooooooooo,” Tony went.

  Walt kissed her back.

  “Ooooooooo,” Tony went again.

  Walt kissed her neck.

  “Oh, Walt—”

  Walt kissed her ear.

  “Walt, you promised.”

  He kissed her eyes.

  “You promised to be a good boy!”

  “Just a good-night kiss?”

  Tony said nothing.

  “Just one?”

  “All right,” she whispered. “One.” And her arms went around him and her mouth pressed up against his and he could feel her fingers digging into his back. They rolled across the bed and he grabbed for her breasts, but almost before his hand made contact she was pushing him away. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “Kissing you good night.”

  “Oh God,” Tony said. “God, God, God.”

  “What’s the matter?”

  “I’m just so disappointed.”

  “Tony ...”

  “Good night, Walt,” and she moved to the far side of the bed.

  Walt started after her.

  “Stop!”

  “Tony, I’m dying.”

  “Good night, Walt.”

  “But, Tony—”

  “I mean it. Good night.”

  “Will ya just—”

  “Good night!”

  “O.K., O.K., g’ night.” He lay on his side of the bed, reaching for the blanket.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever been so disappointed in anybody in all my life,” Tony said.

  “Tony ...”

  “Don’t talk. I’m half asleep already.”

  “But I’m only—”

  “What is it?”

  “You’ve got all the blanket, Tony. Couldn’t I have some of the blanket?”

  “Oh, take it, take it all.”

  “Take what you want but just be quiet.”

  “I don’t need all of it!”

  Walt began to laugh.

  Tony looked over at him. “There’s nothing funny,” she said.

  Walt quieted.

  “I’m all tense,” Tony said and she started to stretch. She stretched her arms and when she stretched her legs her foot lingered for a moment on Walt’s leg. “Sorry,” she muttered.

  Walt began laughing again. “O.K.,” he said. “Game’s over. Let’s kiss and make up.”

  “I cannot believe I heard you accurately.”

  Walt reached out for her. “C’mere,” he said.

  “I’m going to the couch,” Tony said. “Don’t make me go to the couch.”

  “Tony, enough is enough. You’re not serious.”

  “I’m not serious? I’m not serious?”

  “Omigod,” Walt said. “You are.” He gave a long whistle. “I’ll be a son of a bitch. What’s the matter with you?”

  “Not very much.”

  “Oh, come on. I mean, you don’t, by any chance, consider this the least little bit castrating, do you?”

  “Now you’re calling me a castrator?”

  “Oh, not necessarily. I mean, let’s make it hypothetical. O.K.? There’s this girl, see, and she out of the blue invites this guy to share her sack—”

  “Out of the blue? It wasn’t raining?”

  “All right, it was raining—that’s not the point. The point is she invites him to split the bed. With me so far? O.K. Now, after a few preliminaries, such as running around in a nightie you can see through, she—”

  “I didn’t ask you to turn out the light, I suppose.”

  “Anyway, they get between the sheets and all of a sudden she says, ‘No, no, mustn’t touch,’ and—”

  “I said that before I ever got in bed.”

  “Now this hypothetical guy, he gives it the die-for-Rutgers try, and she’s moaning so loud you can hear it in the next apartment and—”

  “Oh boy,” Tony said. “Go on.”

  “It gets kinda unpleasant here because all of a sudden this hypothetical girl turns into Frieda Frigid and she’s muttering ‘God, God, God’ like it’s downtown Hiroshima two seconds after the bomb.”

  “It just doesn’t pay,” Tony said, “to try to be nice to people.” She shook her head in the darkness. “No. No. If you try to be nice to people, they take advantage of you.” She shook her head again. “No. No. It just doesn’t pay.”

  “All of a sudden I’m the villain?”

  “I’m so disappointed I want to cry. There was rain and it was nasty and I thought it might be nice—no, I’ll tell you the absolute truth. I thought it would be fun. Oh, if you knew the men who have wanted to trap me in bed.”

  “What’s this got to do with anything?”

  Tony sighed. “I always thought it would be such fun to have a man spend the night here. Oh, it’s sad.”

  “You’re winning again. I don’t know how but you’re winning.”

  “Oh, Walt, it’s not a contest. We’re not opponents. I’m not fighting you.”

  “Well, then, keep your eye on the referee because somebody’s killing me.”

  “Poor Walt.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Poor Walt.”

  “Dammit—”

  “Give me your hand.”

  “Why?”

  “Just give me your hand.”

  Walt gave her his hand.

  Tony held it. “Come here,” she said and she put her arm around him, resting his head on her shoulder. “There,” she said. “There.” Softly, she began stroking his chest. “You know what I think?”

  “What do you think?”

  “I think you better go.” She continued stroking his chest with just the very tips of her fingers.

&n
bsp; “Go?”

  “Yes. Leave. Now. It’s best. This isn’t working out. If you stay ... well, if you stay you’ll just get more upset and what’s the point in that? Where are your clothes? In the closet? I think you better put them on and go home. Don’t you agree? It’s best you go.”

  “Well ...”

  “Please,” and she lightly kissed his cheek. “In the morning you’ll see I was right. Go now. Please. For me.”

  Aw, come on, Walt thought. You can do better than this. I mean, isn’t this a little obvious? You tell me to go and all the time you’re pawing me and what I’m supposed to do is beg you to stay, but I’m on to you. I mean, you can whistle if you think I’m gonna beg. “You’re right.” He got out of bed and made his way toward the closet.

  “You do think so, don’t you?” she said from under the covers.

  “Oh, absolutely.”

  “You’re not just doing this?”

  He switched on the closet light, grabbed his clothes, headed for the bathroom to dress. “Huh?”

  “I meant, you do think I’m right.”

  “Course you’re right,” Walt said as he dressed. “This whole thing was a mistake. I should have known better.”

  “It’s as much my fault as yours.”

  “As a matter of fact, I was about to leave on my own when you suggested it.” Walt raced into his clothes.

  “You were?”

  “That’s right.”

  Tony got out of bed. “I’ll see you to the door.”

  “You don’t have to. I’m all dressed. I know the way.”

  “Never,” Tony said and she walked toward his voice in the darkness, took his hand. “I was brought up on Emily Post.” She led him out of the bedroom. “I’m really sorry things turned out like this.”

  “We’ll forget it.”

  “Of course we will.”

  “ ’Night,” Walt said when they reached the apartment door.

  “I just hate sending you out in the rain like this.”

  “I’ll be all right.”

  “Oh, it could have been so much fun,” Tony said and her hands rested on his shoulders a moment, and then she pressed up against him, holding him tight.

  Walt tried to kiss her, but her head was averted. But when his hands found her breasts her head turned toward him and he pressed his mouth down on her mouth and when they broke he could hear her breathing and he said, “Let me stay.”

  “Don’t ask me.”

  “Please.”

  “Oh, Walt.”

  “Please. Please.”

  “I could never trust myself,” she whispered, opening the door. “Good night, darling.”

  All of a sudden Walt found himself standing in the hallway. He watched as she threw him a kiss. Then her fingers were dancing at him. Then the door closed. Walt waited a moment. He stuck his hands in his pockets, shrugged, turned, ambled to the elevators, paused, then butted the “down” button with his head. A few moments later he walked out into the rain.

  He worked his way cautiously to Lexington, darting from doorway to doorway, but in spite of his efforts he was drenched by the time he reached the corner. As he turned onto the avenue he assumed the center of the sidewalk, moving slowly, hands in pockets, stopping occasionally to rub his bruised head, trying to ease the pain. For a moment he was tempted to taxi down to his tiny Village apartment. It was expensive, but who was he kidding? He could afford it. Walt glanced around, saw there were no cabs and broke into a wild run. He was terribly winded when he reached the subway station, and his legs felt weak, even though it had been but four blocks and once upon a time he could have run three times that and smiled. He started down the steps, fished a token from his wet pocket, sneezed and passed through the turnstile. The station was vacant and he nodded in thanks, because it was probably close to three in the morning and that was when the nuts came out and they frightened him. They liked him, the nuts did; they seemed always to seek him out. And that frightened him too.

  Walt sat huddled on a bench thinking about Tony, who he really didn’t like all that much, not when you came right down to it, so why did he let her bug him like that? It would have been so simple just to end it, end it, cut it off.

  “Snip,” Walt said.

  Except that it wasn’t. It should have been, so why wasn’t it? ’Cause I want to quit a winner, Walt thought. If only once—one time—he could leave her with the taste of victory stinging his tongue, then he could forget the way to her door easy apple pie. But she was clever. God, she was. Clever and sexy—a tough opponent. Walt sighed as the uptown local stopped in front of him. I wished I lived uptown, he thought. Just for tonight. He stood and walked around the bench, his clothes still wet from the October rain. His body felt very cold and he sneezed again as he sat back down on the bench. “Why are you such a fink, Kirkaby?” he mumbled, and then he shut up fast because a crazy man was descending the stairs at the end of the subway platform.

  “God bless Clark Gable!” the crazy man shouted.

  Walt huddled up on the bench and closed his eyes.

  “God bless Ralph Waldo Emerson!”

  The voice was nearer and Walt sneaked a look, glancing at the crazy man and the thinnish spinster lady who was hurrying by him as fast as she could, staying as far away from him as possible. Walt closed his eyes again.

  A subway train roared into the station and Walt half stood before he realized it was another uptown local. Walt shook his head. Two in a row just wasn’t fair. Not when he was soaked to the skin and there was a crazy man stumbling around nearby. “Nuts,” Walt said. Two in a row; why did that seem like the story of his life?

  “God bless America!” the crazy man shouted.

  “Some people,” the spinster lady said, and she sat down at the far end of the bench.

  Walt nodded.

  “Look at him. Just look at him. They ought to do something. They ought to police these places. A body just isn’t safe.”

  Walt nodded again.

  “What about this weather?” the lady went on, and she shook her head. “Terrible. Just terrible.”

  Walt smiled at her and stood up, because another train was roaring into the station, a downtown local.

  “God bless Franklin D. Roosevelt Junior,” the crazy man shouted.

  “Not a minute too soon,” the lady said, indicating the train.

  “Right you are,” Walt agreed.

  “I think it’s the bomb causes this weather,” the lady said. “Have you read about that?”

  “No. Sorry.”

  “Well, some meteorologists think all this bomb exploding by the Russians has affected the weather.”

  “Could be,” Walt said as the subway doors opened.

  “God bless Lucas T. Hathaway!”

  “I hate those Russians,” the lady said. “Have you ever seen rain like this on Christmas Eve before?”

  “No,” Walt said and they had stepped inside the train before he remembered that the month was October, and then as he started to turn away she grabbed him by the arm and said, “Would you like to kiss me under the mistletoe? I always carry mistletoe,” and she held up a piece but Walt jerked loose and dived for the door which had started to close and it caught him for a moment until he could fight it open and then he was running down the platform, up the steps and back into the rain.

  It seemed warmer at first, not quite so punishing. He stumbled through it, eyes half closed. Why were the nuts after him? And why had he begged Tony like that? “Please. Please. Let me stay.” Damn her. Damn her and damn the nuts too, and especially damn the rain. Why did the nuts always pick on him? From his very first day in the city, when he was walking toward Times Square and the cripple began following him down the street yelling “Too good to talk to me? Too good to talk to me?” until he had to run to get away, but once he was away he doubled back, following the cripple from across the street for almost half an hour and why had he done that? Walt whirled, spotted a taxi and waved. The cab stopped beside him. Walt s
tood there with his hand on the door. After a moment the driver rolled down his window.

  “What is it?” the driver said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, you flagged me, buddy, come on now. In or out.”

  Walt just stood there. Then he said, “I’m sorry. I was just—I need some information. Do you know where there’s a subway stop around here?”

  “Sure. Four blocks up on Lex.”

  “Oh,” Walt said, dropping his hand. “Thanks.” He turned, starting to walk toward the subway stop until the taxi turned a corner. Then Walt stopped, shook his head, reversed direction. “Why did you do that?” he muttered. “What’s the matter with you?” He shivered. Then he heard a great roll of thunder and he shivered again. He reached into his back pocket and brought out his handkerchief and tried to dry his glasses but the handkerchief was wet too, so he stopped trying. Walt shook his head. The rain was harder now and very cold. He broke into a run, dodging the tacklers, the football tucked tight against him, and two tacklers were coming at him now, so he twisted his small body past one and stiff-armed the other and then he had clear sailing all the way to the goal line.

  Winded, Walt slowed. For a moment he was silent. Then he sang:

  I got guilt

  You got guilt

  All God’s chillun got guilt

  When I get to Heaven gonna lose all my guilt I’m gonna

  Bleed all over God’s Heaven

  Heav’m Heav’mmm

  Everybody talkin’ ’bout Heav’m ain’t a goin’ there

  Heav’m Heav’mmm gonna

  BUH-LEED

  All over God’s Heav’mmmmm.

  He finished the song as the rain increased in tempo, so he ducked under an awning and stared out and started the song again: I got guilt, you got guilt—