Читать книгу Jack’s Passion - Bill Kinsella - Страница 9

Jack returned to his apartment late that afternoon. He got permission from the landlord to extend his lease for a couple of months. Before going upstairs the landlord gave him his mail, mentioning he’d signed for one of the items. Jack didn’t look at the mail right away but immediately began packing for his upcoming trip to his aunt and uncle’s. He quickly filled a canvass duffel bag then returned to the bureau where he’d set his mail down.

There were a couple of bills, one from the phone company, another from a utility. There was a letter addressed to Recent Graduate from a credit card company offering a new Master Card account. Under the credit card letter was a business sized envelope with a certified mail sticker attached. This was the letter the landlord had signed for. It was upside down in his hands. He felt the envelope as he removed the green sticker, then turned it over to read the return address. The envelope was of fine quality paper, with a texture that made it feel as if it had been minutely stitched together the way a fine piece of cloth might be. It was off-white, with embossed, thick, black typing. The print was elegant and bold and the return address read Sanders Brown. It was the last letter he’d been waiting for from Wall Street.

Jack sat down on the bed to read the letter but shadows in the room made it difficult to read and he chose not to turn on the lamp. So he got up and went to the window in the living room and broke the seal of the envelope by tearing the left corner of it open. He took out what he thought was the only page of the letter, not realizing that when he’d torn the envelope, he’d separated the first from the second page of the letter. He discarded the envelope with the second page still inside.

The first page looked like a complete letter. Jack read carefully:

Dear Mr. Conroy:

Sanders Brown Company has carefully reviewed your letter of interest, college transcripts, and personal references. We are pleased to be able to extend to you an invitation to interview with our firm. We will be conducting interviews during the second two weeks of June. Please contact the undersigned by June 15 to arrange for an interview.

Very Truly Yours, Cliff Sutton

Manager Human Resources

He had ten days to respond. But he was leaving for his uncle’s the next day and wouldn’t be in Claremont Hills until the fifteenth. If he wanted to set up the interview, he should do it first thing in the morning. But he felt reluctant to do so. He’d dragged his feet about sending letters to Wall Street in the first place. Veronica thought she knew why, although Jack had never come right out and said it. That was because, intermittently, he still did want to go to Wall Street. But, lately and increasingly, his feelings about working there, when he admitted them to himself, were negative. He didn’t explore the reasons but that is how he felt. He didn’t want to go. His father had urged him to send letters. His mother and father had expressed disappointment about him not getting his letters out sooner. They wanted him near them.

They would be proud and delighted if he went to Wall Street. It was his dad, also, who’d suggested Jack provide both his school and home address for response, fearing Jack’s delay in contacting firms might result in their responses coming to Duke after he’d already left school. Jack had forgotten about that and since he didn’t see the second page of the letter, didn’t realize a copy had been sent to his home. He never read the following:

CC: Mr. John Conroy, Claremont Hills Estates, Claremont Hills, NJ

All Jack could think now was that he wished the letter had not come. He’d waited most of the semester, thinking secretly: I hope I don’t get an interview. Now that he’d gotten an offer to set up one, he felt sick to his stomach about it.

What he craved was the feeling he’d had that morning after Mr. Bellini had offered him a job. He’d been happy. It was true, at Underwood after the relay he’d wished he was going to Wall Street. But that was to beat Dayton. Dayton had made him feel less enthusiastic about staying in Durham, making him think that by working for Bellini he’d be shirking responsibility. Then, too, Coach Ross’s comment, while it was meant to make him feel confident, further dampened Jack’s excitement about taking the job at the nursery. In his mind, Jack could hear Coach Ross saying: “Whatever he chooses to do, I know he’ll lead others doing it.”

So this letter might have made him feel that he was back on track. Dayton would have to eat crow if Jack beat him to Wall Street by getting a job with Sanders Brown. And Wall Street’s future would be in better hands. These thoughts passed through his mind and momentarily pleased him. So did the ideas his parents would be proud and Coach Ross would be proud. But all of that incidental pleasure dissolved into a sinking feeling when Jack thought about not working at the nursery, about being in New York instead of Durham, about being away from Veronica.

Then the letter took on a different quality. It became like a draft notice sent to him during wartime bringing with it an array of implications, of certain limitations, and affecting him so somberly that his plan to work for Bellini and be near Veronica seemed hopelessly naive-a pipe dream. It occurred to Jack that what he’d arranged was a young man’s oasis from the real world. Real possibility presented itself with the letter that came late but not late enough.

Time, too, took on a different quality with the letter. Confusion spoiled time and expectation turned it into a kind of battle ground. Time, so long his patient escort, now seemed an urgent usher directing him to the nearest exit of his present life out into a chaos of nows. Now, he must decide what to do, where to go, whether he had to leave or whether he must stay. Now, now, now is all he felt, and he wasn’t at all sure what to do now. Jack needed perspective but felt incapable of obtaining it in the swirl of the moment. He stood in his apartment taking inventory of its contents, all the paraphernalia of four years at Duke, not sure whether he was corning or going in the larger sense. He went back into his bedroom, stood still and stared at two maps and a photo between them that he’d used as wallpaper for the past year.

One was a map of Durham and Duke, the other a map of the world. Between them, a photograph of a lake he’d liked going to in the country outside of Durham fit neatly into the scheme of the maps and acted for Jack like their key. Seeing the lake photograph always soothed Jack. He’d thought of it as God’s eye that he could look into and find his own soul and be calmed. Seeing the lake, he could somehow manage with whatever went on in school and the world, remaining hopeful.

He’d blown the photo up into a poster the same size as the maps and it had seemed the perfect link between where he’d been and where he felt he’d be going. Today, though, the lake photo did not provide its usual solace. Something about the sudden acceleration of purpose Jack felt upon receiving the letter thwarted the photo’s calming effect.

He had expected graduation to be liberating. But as he stood there in the room, now gazing at his diploma which lay flat on the surface of a dark table, he felt like he had just gotten a summons to appear on trial where what was at stake was his very being. He felt duty bound to be all that he could be, but apprehensive about needing to be that in New York.

He paced the rooms of his apartment, grappling with his feelings, stopping in front of the same window where he’d read the letter and watched the sunset. The sun setting cast that section of Durham where he lived into soft, gray shadows. Everything outside appeared indistinct, only vaguely what he knew it to be. And at that moment, the quality of the outside world’s appearance struck a sympathetic chord in Jack, as if it reflected his hazy notions of future. The light in his apartment had also diminished with the sun going down and seemed on the verge of disappearing altogether. So as Jack stood at the window, it was as if he was positioned between two worlds of growing darkness, of dubious certainty, of nebulous meaning. In the thralls of this fade out, peering back into his darkened room, Jack felt a sudden, terrible loneliness.

Veronica, his girlfriend, would be coming to the apartment soon and that reassured him. But now, alone, he felt lost. He couldn’t wait for her to leave the school library where she worked. He thought of calling her and asking her to come home now but that seemed too extreme.

He thought of calling home and telling his parents about the Sanders Brown letter but couldn’t bring himself to do that. If he conveyed any hesitation about New York, he knew his parents would dismiss it. They’d say what he felt was just temporary and normal, call it post graduate jitters naturally setting in as he prepared to begin again. They’d definitely say any fear of his, if that’s what this hesitation was, was baseless. What, after all, did he have to be afraid of? Hadn’t he just graduated from Duke? Wasn’t that more proof of his exceptional nature, more proof that he’d be up to any challenge, handle any adjustment, his post college life might deliver?

Jack knew that’s how his parents would react. They couldn’t possibly understand the depths of his present loneliness. For it seemed, even to Jack, baseless. After all, Veronica, his girlfriend would remain his girlfriend even if he went to New York. So what was it? What was it but some overwhelming sense of finality, inexplicable in terms of his present situation?

He stood a long while in the fading light, clutching the letter in his hand. He looked at his packed duffel bag and felt a sudden urgency about getting away. He wanted to take Veronica that instant to Taylor Island. Moreover, he wanted to return to Durham after the 4th of July as he’d told Mr. Bellini he would. He felt paralyzed. Then he heard footsteps on the walkway leading up to the house his apartment was in.

He looked at his watch. He looked down to see Veronica about to come inside. His jaw stiffened, his hand tightened. In an impulse, he took the Sanders Brown letter with both hands and tore it up, and then threw it the trash. When Veronica came into the apartment and stood before him, he felt better. “Hello, V,” he said, looking at her like he hadn’t seen her for years. “I want us to leave tonight instead of tomorrow.”

Veronica gave a puzzled look. “What’s up?” she asked.

In the dim light of the room Veronica appeared like a dark outline of herself and Jack wanted to be able to look into her eyes. He turned on the lamps in the room. Now he could see into her eyes and it was like looking into the lake. He put his arms around her waist and pulled her close to him. “I missed you so much today,” he said softly.

Veronica returned his affection with a peck on his cheek. “You’re not telling me something,” she said. “Did something happen today? You seem preoccupied.”

Jack let go of her waist and took both her hands in his. He turned and gazed out the window at the now quiet street. “A couple of things happened,” he said.

“Well?” Veronica queried.

“I beat Dayton in the relay,” said Jack, smiling.

“That’s good,” Veronica grinned, “next?”

“Mr. Bellini offered me a job.” Jack pulled back from Veronica into attention, waiting for her reaction.

“Jack, that’s wonderful!” Veronica lit up in delighted surprise. “That means you’ll be staying in Durham, right?”

She hadn’t thought that would happen. Tears came into her eyes. “Jack,” she whispered.

Then as an afterthought, “But why should we leave tonight, everything seems to have turned out wonderfully. There’s nothing else, is there?”

Jack gazed at Veronica. He traced the outline of her face with his hand then placed his hand softly on her dark hair behind her neck and stroked it.

“Everything’s good, V, I just want to go away with you, and be with you, and show you things and can’t wait.”

“Okay.” Veronica sighed, relief and happiness both in her voice. “Okay, Jack.”