The Diary of a Rapist

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Evan S. Connell. The Diary of a Rapist

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CONTENTS

THE DIARY OF A RAPIST

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This noon an attack of vertigo. Thought I’d fall. Managed to lie down, absolutely humiliated. To have people staring down at you—forced to admit in public that you’re sick—can’t remember when I’ve been so embarrassed. It gave everybody the impression that I’m not in very good health. I can’t imagine what happened today. And the worst of it was McAuliffe acting cynical, could tell from his grin that he thought I was malingering. He’s gotten afternoons off with various pretenses & so assumes other people are equally dishonorable. It’s as if he regards conscientious people as being foolish. The thought of him nauseates me. Reminds me of a diseased stork with its feathers dropping out, greasy hair dangling over those bloodshot eyes. A person could die and he’d think it was a trick. I’ll ignore him tomorrow, won’t say good morning. If I’m indebted to anybody in that office for consideration it’s Mrs. Fensdeicke, and am forced to admit to myself it’s a surprise. Would never have guessed she could be so solicitous, but then she’s a woman. Illness touches them every time. One of the few things I like about them. She wanted to call a doctor. Perhaps I should have agreed instead of getting to my feet. Still felt dizzy, but lying down in public was unbearable & not one person in that office will ever forget what happened today. I hate them for seeing me helpless, even though the fault was mine. How awful, the whole business. Worries me. Never had an attack like that before. Mr. Foxx came out and looked at me lying on the couch. I felt like such an idiot, nodding and smiling although he didn’t say a word. Somehow that moment changed our whole relationship. I remember staring up at that puffy brown face—he looked older, too, noticed the gray hair—I think he’s West Indian or Puerto Rican. Tempted to speak to him as an equal but didn’t quite have courage. Should have let him know I’m too intelligent to be doing the work I’m doing. Yes, there was your moment, Earl! Why didn’t you seize it? However, I have a feeling that he understood. He may very possibly be considering me for a supervisor’s position. We’re one short, rumor is. I could be the appointee. I’ve taken examinations enough, so Something ought to come of them. Foxx could do a great deal for me. I only wish I’d made a better impression. I wonder what he saw when he looked down—Summerfield lying on the maroon leather couch with a wool blanket pulled up to his chin and his feet sticking out. I could feel a draft on my ankles. What a day to be wearing these dime-store socks—it was all I could do to prevent myself from explaining I bought just one pair almost as an amusement because they were inexpensive. Ordinarily nobody would notice but I had to choose this particular day to get sick and expose them to the world. Oh God. I hope Mr. Foxx didn’t notice them. He must have. Yes, they did turn out to be an amusement, they certainly did! Well, too late now, too late to fret. Went back to his office without a word. I expected him to give me the remainder of the day off. Seems rather odd he didn’t suggest it. Even so he’s a good man. He’s all right. Whatever he wants me for—anything at all! I’ve thought of him as somebody to avoid. Do your work, keep out of the chief’s way, that was my motto, but now I think I’ve been too self-effacing. Much too much. He’s aware of me now. I could drop by his office on the way out some evening and mention the incident, thank him for his consideration, shake hands. We might have lunch together some day. Yes, that might not appear strange. I’m sure there’s no regulation against it. Why shouldn’t we become friendly? I ought to let him have a closer look at me. It’s foolish to be humble.

JANUARY 16

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