Man, woman, and child(12)

"That's it?" Bob frowned.

"Do you know what this is, Beckwith? Do you know, do you know?"

"Yeah. A goddamn tie"

"—which signifies that the wearer has won a varsity Y in footbdir

"But I haven't," Bob protested.

"I have," Bernie said.

"You're the manager, Bern."

"Does it say that anywhere on the tie? Does it, does it, does it?"

"Bernie, I am a hundred-and-forty-five-pound weakling."

"But you're six one, Beckwith. Put two or three sweaters on under your jacket and you could be a tight end. Believe me, the girls know a football tie when they see one. It turns them on. They almost drop their pants right there."

"Bemie, forget it."

"Come on, Beckwith. This is your big chance."

"You ain't nothin' but a hound dog . . ." It was pitch black, and the deafening sounds of Rumple and the Stiltskins shook the wooden panels of the Branford College dining hall. Bodies rocked and rolled. From either side, crowds of the opposing sexes glanced across at one another while pretending not to.



''Bemie, I feel like a total asshole."

"It's just nerves, Bob. Tlie guys get 'em before every game. Christ, you look like Hercules."

'Tm roasting in these sweaters."

''Oh, Beckwith, lookit all the talent," said Bernie, surveying the populous scene. "God, I'm dying from the pulchritude. If we don't score tonight, we're goddam eunuchs."

''Speak for yourself, Bern."

"Hey! I see my beloved."

"Where?"

"There. The short and cute one. I've gotta make my move."

And for the final time he fixed Bob's tie and sprinted off.

Bob was now on his own. Too self-conscious to just stand there on the dance floor, he took one or two steps toward the female side. His eye now chanced upon a tall and slender girl with long blond hair. Boy, thought Bob, I wish I had the guts.

But three Yalies were already paying court to her. No chance, thought Bob. Besides, I'm really boiling. Maybe I should head back to the room.

"Beckwith!" someone bellowed.

It was one of the trio romancing the young lady.

"Yes?"

''What the hell is that around your scrawny neck?"

To his horror. Bob now realized that the voice belonged to mountainous Terry Dexter, captain of the undefeated football team.

"Where'd you get that tie?" he bellowed, then turning to the Vassar girl, "He shouldn't be wearing that tie."

'*Why not?" she asked, then turned to Bob. "What IS it?"



"The Morons' Club." He smiled. God, she's beautiful.

"Like hell/' said Terry. "It's the football team."

"Not much difference/' Bob replied.

The Vassar girl laughed. This enraged the football captain.

"Beckwith, if you weren't such a fruit cake, I'd destroy you for that stupid witticism."

"Terry/' interposed one of his sycophants, "the guy was only kidding. Don't make an asshole of yourself 'cause he's an asshole."

"Yeah," snarled Terry, "but at least take off that tie, Beckwith."

Bob sensed that this was one demand Terry would not be talked out of. Sweating profusely, he pulled it off and handed it over.

"See you, Terry," he said. And then, making swift retreat. Bob casually tossed a "Nice meeting you" in the direction of the lovely Vassar girl who had witnessed this horror show.

The moment he escaped into the coatroom area, Bob tore off his jacket. Thank you, Bernie, for this mortification. Dexter would doubtless never forget it. And you won't get your goddam tie back, either. As Bob was pulling the first of his sweaters over his head, he heard a muffled:

"Excuse me."

He peered out. It was the girl.

"Yes?" said Bob, too surprised to be nervous. He whipped the sweater back down.

"You forgot something," she said. And in her left hand she held out the football tie.

"Thank you. I guess I looked pretty stupid wear-ingit"

"No," she said gently. "I think it was the sweaters that made you look a little weird/'



<^1

44 Erkh Segal

"Oh/' he said. And then, 'Tm just getting over a cold/'

"Oh," she answered, perhaps beheving him. 'Why d you leave?"

"I don't function well in mobs."

'Me either/' she said.

'You were doing okay."

'Really? I felt like a piece of meat in a butcher's window."

"Well, mixers are always like that/'

"I know," she said.

"Then why'd you come?" A stupid question. Bob instantly regretted asking it.

"I was going stir crazy up in Poughkeepsie," she answered. "Besides, can you imagine how depressing it is trying to study on a Saturday night in an all-girls' school?"