Free The Lockwood Concern by John O'Hara Page B

box, throw it in the wastebasket. I don't want it now, either." "Why did you come home, I wonder? You didn't have to. You have some money. It's bad enough to bring disgrace on the family without being arrogant into the bargain." "I see. You wouldn't let Henry meet me." "Henry is off today." "Then of course you wouldn't meet me yourself. In seven and a half years this was the first time I wasn't met by anybody." George Lockwood snorted. "I declare, I think you expected us to meet you with a brass band." "No such thing, and you know it, Father. I expect to be punished, and I hope I take it like a man. But picking on me for not wearing garters. And returning my cigarette box." The son's voice broke. "Honestly." "Good God, not tears. You're certainly running the gamut, from swearing like a trooper to now, blubbering like a girl. If you're going to bawl, go on up to your room." "I'm not going to bawl anymore. I'll tell you once again, what I told you over the phone, I'd give anything if I could do over again. I'd rather flunk out than cheat." "Or be caught cheating. I understand you got away with it once before." The son hesitated. "I got away with it twice before. But I wish I'd let nature take its course and I'd flunked out." "Yes, it would have been a lot easier to get you in someplace else if you'd only flunked out. You could even have got back into Princeton. As it is, you've been turned down by Penn State and Bucknell." "You mean you applied for State and Bucknell?" "I spoke to friends of mine. I can get you in Bucknell next year. Your mother has a cousin, a Baptist minister in Wilkes-Barre." "I don't want to go to Bucknell, or any place else." "Oh, you've made your own plans. What are they, may I ask?" "I'm going out to California and get a job." "In a bank, I suppose." "What are you trying to do? Kick me in the nuts? No, not in a bank. One of my roommates' father is more willing to give me a chance than my own father. I have a job on a ranch, and I'm leaving next week. I could leave tomorrow, as far as that goes." "Well, why don't you? I won't stop you." "You couldn't stop me. I hope I never see you again as long as I live. Good-bye, Father." "Just a minute, before you make your dramatic exit. Your mother is waiting to see you. What are you going to tell her?" "I'll tell her that I have a job in California, and that I have to leave tomorrow." "Just so we get our stories straight, that's all I care about. Bear in mind when you go upstairs that this may be the last time you ever see her again. That is, if you plan to stay in California any length of time." "How long?" "If you stay a year. And if you do anything to excite her now, you may have to postpone your trip a few days. So don't be dramatic with her." "Why couldn't it be the other way?" "God damn you! Don't expect me to forget that." "I won't," said Bing Lockwood. His mother took off her boudoir cap as he entered her room. She was sitting in a high-backed chair, in nightgown and negligee, her satin-slippered feet on a carpeted circular footrest. She quickly ran her fingers through her hair and held out her hands. "Georgie, I'm going to turn you over my knee, that's all there is to it. Give me a kiss." He kissed her, and sat in a matching high-backed chair on the opposite side of the fireplace. "Smoke. Go ahead. And give me a puff," she said. "When did you start smoking?" "When did I start smoking? Exactly thirty years ago. Cubebs, when I was fourteen." "Did they have cubebs then?" "Oh, I don't know. I was only joking. I never have smoked, but I know you used to smoke cubebs. When you were fourteen, and even younger." "Did you know it then?" "How could I help knowing? You could smell them a mile away. Have you had your supper?" "No." "You must be hungry." "Not very. I had an oyster stew in the Reading Terminal." "You've been talking with your father, I know. I could hear your voices, but I couldn't make out what you were saying. He's very upset, of course. But he'll come