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1 5 Mary's Tape: The Heist (conclusion) Fred and I agreed to meet at a place near town down at a lake where people came to swim and picnic in the summer. There was a pavilion there with a screened area above, where they sold sandwiches and steaks. The downstairs was a boat dock, a place to change for swimming , and perhaps a dry dock in winter. But Fred and I met outside and sat at a picnic table. He was wearing the blue shirt, the tan slacks, same as earlier, but had added a foulard, something for going out. Fred Davis had a lean, rather blank face except that his eyes back of those odd-shaped glasses were intelligent, and he observed everything without asking questions. He seemed receptive to whatever was going on. I hadn't seen him since I left Philadelphia, and I now felt, seeing him again, that he had brought his house—that atmosphere —with him, and that even here it was forbidding. It had seemed not only rich but mysteriouslyso; there was a darkness about the wealthy that had gone into it; the money, which had originally come from coal, might after that have also sprung from railroads or the stock market or real estate—there were stories about all three. If I'd asked the right questions I might have found out more. I would ask Mother, but she'd only smile faintly, distantly,and say "Business interests," which means nothing. "You can bet it was business interests, all right," Jeff had said. "Now the guy's got nothing to do but swap good investments for better and sit on boards of directors and enjoy a sexy new wife." Yet I wanted to tell Fred things. I wanted to then, and I wanted to now. For instance: "I know I made good grades at Bryn Mawr at first, but I'm not interested in being educated. I know I fell behind. I'm 189 190 THE N I G H T T R A V E L L E R S just always practicing. But I thought I might follow up on that other thing, anthropology. I couldn't act interested in a lot of other things. I can't pretend. Also I wanted to be with Jeff. Maybe I would have been happy in your house except for things I couldn't help feeling." "All that," he said, and looked out at the lake, where a small sailboat was tacking uselessly, for there was no wind that day. Some children were going hand in hand out into the roped-off swimming area, making small uncertain steps forward where the bottom sloped unevenly . "But you could have talked to me." He coughed. He went up to the pavilion and came back with a drink in his hand; it looked like bourbon. He took a sip and sat back down. "The day you ran away from Bennington I had just made an appointment to go out to Bryn Mawr and see your faculty counselor. I had a feeling things were difficult for you. There were other schools. There might have been a way of talking things over with Jeff, too, if you'd have asked me. As for your mother, I know she demands things of you—'measuring up,' she calls it. Don't you understand her ambition for you?" I thought it over. "What does she want me to be?" He turned his gaze slowly toward the restaurant pavilion above and then to the dock below. Near the gas pump some fuel had spilled a multicolored film in the water. It rocked when waves from a speedboat finally reached shore. "What does she want me to be?" I repeated , wondering if the pendulum swing of his gaze, as though he watched the world's slowest tennis game, wasgoing to pass me again. "She wants me to be a credit to her," I said bitterly. His eyes turned back to mine. "Surely there's more to her than that." "If you don't know, I don't," I said. And added, "And if I don't know, you don't." He laughed. The laugh began with a smile but couldn't stop there. He suddenly found it worthwhile to have seen me. The laughter which crinkled up the tight skin of his face stopped as suddenly as shutting off an outboard motor. "You could have passed any course you wanted to. I think...

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