Giles Goat Boy (28 page)

“It was the awfulest thing to
listen
to!” Anastasia said. “Maurice has a way about him … I don’t know how he does it, but he seems to make everybody worse than they really are, I couldn’t believe it was Uncle Ira I heard saying ‘There’s nothing on this campus can’t be bought by the man who can pay the price.’ Then Maurice began teasing that Uncle Ira liked to
pretend
to be selfish and hard-hearted, but actually he was a sentimental old do-gooder (which is just what
I
think!). The more Maurice teased him about founding the Lying-In Hospital and raising me out of pure generosity, the more Uncle Ira swore he’d done those things for nobody’s benefit but his own. When Maurice saw how upset Uncle Ira was, he vowed he’d do that business with Chancellor Rexford for nothing, the day Uncle Ira could prove it wasn’t simple good-heartedness with me and the Unwed Co-eds’ Hospital.”

“You see what a Dean o’ Flunks he is?” Max cried to me—who was gripping my stick with anger.

“It got worse and worse,” Anastasia declared. “After a while Uncle Ira was claiming he’d built the hospital just so he could interview the girls himself—he said he liked to ask them questions about how they’d gotten in trouble, and see them cry when they told their stories; he even said he liked to
watch
, in the delivery-room—I
know
it isn’t true! And Maurice said so himself, that Uncle Ira was trying to
sound
flunked, because he was ashamed of his passèdness … Well, I burst in and said I’d heard the whole thing, and told Uncle Ira he should be ashamed of himself for such fibs, and Maurice for leading him on. Uncle Ira was furious, but Maurice just laughed and said ‘What about
her?
Does she let you watch when the boys—[I can’t say it; you know what I mean]?’ Uncle Ira turned white—I did too!—but then he seemed to get hold of himself, and he said, ‘Stacey, this man is a wicked liar who’ll say anything that suits his purpose; but he also knows every flunkèd thing there is to know about people that they wish nobody knew of. So when he says you’ve been letting all those boys [you-know-what], he might be lying or he might not. I want you to tell me the plain truth now,’ he said: ‘if he’s lying I’ll throw him out, and Lucky Rexford can do his flunkèdest to break me to pieces. But if he’s telling the truth, I’m going to thrash you like no co-ed on this campus was ever thrashed!’

“It seemed to me Maurice got worried when Uncle Ira said that, because he said, ‘What do you
expect
her to do when you put it that way? You’re begging her to lie about it, even if it costs you your business! And you call yourself a selfish man!’ But Uncle Ira hardly heard him,
he was staring so at me; and you know, I almost
did
tell a lie, he scared me so much. And especially I didn’t want to get a spanking there in front of Maurice! But then Uncle Ira looked like he was ready to have a stroke, and the only thing I could
think
of was how important it was to calm him down and get it out of his system. And I hated to tell a lie anyhow, especially when it might ruin his business—”

“I wish I didn’t hear this,” Max said. “I wish this was finished.”

“I’ll bet anything you told him the truth,” I hazarded.

Anastasia nodded sorrowfully. “I couldn’t say a
word
at first, but I bent over his desk, the way I always did for spankings, and that was the same as admitting about the boys. Believe me, it was just for Uncle Ira’s sake; and Maurice—he’s so
clever
about these things—when Uncle Ira started spanking me, Maurice laughed and asked me wasn’t it true what the boys had told him, that I didn’t make love to them for my own sake at all, but just because they said it would hurt them if I didn’t? At first I thought he was saying that for
my
benefit; Uncle Ira even stopped spanking me for a minute and asked me was it true, and Maurice said, ’Sure, it wasn’t
her
fault; they told her they’d commit suicide or flunk their exams if she didn’t
help
them, and she believed them.”

“Why, that was decent of him, wasn’t it?” I exclaimed. The image of Anastasia bent over the desk was much with me.

But she shook her head. “Don’t you
see?
As soon as he said it I realized that if I
agreed
that that was how it was—I mean on
my
side of it, because I’m sure those boys never said what they did just to take
advantage
of me—if I agreed, Uncle Ira might stop and drive Maurice away, and lose his business and all. So, awful as it was, I had to tell a worse lie yet: I had to say it was
me
that persuaded the boys to do what they did, because I wanted to fool Uncle Ira and because—I just
enjoyed
doing flunkèd things!”

“He knew you better!” Max burst out.

“Maybe so. But he
did
need to get it out of his system, Dr. Spielman. He started in again, and Maurice laughed, and I was crying all over the ledger-sheets, and worrying because my tears were making the ink run … But the worst was what happened next. Maurice told Uncle Ira he certainly must love me very unselfishly to get so upset over what I’d done; it just proved what a sentimental old fool he was! Uncle Ira
really
went crazy then: he spanked me harder than ever, and started crying himself, and he shouted, ‘I enjoy it! I enjoy it!
There’s
my profit, right there!’ I
know
he didn’t mean it! But he said ‘What do you think I raised her for? I
love
this!’ Oh, George, you can’t
believe
how it hurt him to
say that! The ruler flew out of his hand, and he tried to spank me with his bare hand and couldn’t do it right; it didn’t even hurt. He was completely helpless, and I turned around and hugged him and told him not to worry, it had been a terrible spanking and had taught me a lesson I’d never forget. Maurice quit his laughing then and looked at me in the strangest way: it wasn’t just that he could see through what I’d said; it was as if he’d suddenly thought of something that upset him the way he’d upset Uncle Ira … I can’t say it right … but much as I hated him right then, it seemed to me he had some
terrible
need of his own.”

I struck the sand with my stick, and Croaker growled under me. “If you say
he
spanked you too, I’ll flunk him! There’s been enough spankings!”

Max said nothing.

“It wasn’t that,” Anastasia replied. “He just had an awful look in his eyes—I thought he was ready to cry himself, can you imagine? Then he told me in this strange voice that he knew very well I’d confessed on purpose to save Uncle Ira’s business, but he couldn’t decide just why, and before he made up his mind whether to help Uncle Ira or not he had to know some things: Hadn’t I really enjoyed it with those boys? And didn’t I let Uncle Ira spank me so I could get what I wanted from him? Mind you, I couldn’t tell which answers would be the right ones for Uncle Ira’s sake. Also there was this awful need on Maurice’s
own
face, like if I said the wrong thing it would do something terrible to him—but whether it might be better for him in the long run to have that terrible thing happen, I couldn’t tell either. I was
confused!
So finally I just told the plain truth: I said that what I enjoyed about the boys was just what I’d liked about playing with the maids when I was little: that it seemed to make them happy without hurting me. As for the spankings, they certainly did hurt, but the reason he mentioned wasn’t right at all: Uncle Ira had
always
been sweet to me, spankings or no spankings, but everybody needed to get things out of their systems now and then, and I owed Uncle Ira such a lot, and it was good for him in so many ways, he could spank me twice as hard and twice as often if he wanted to, and I thought it was just
awful
of Maurice to make him say those terrible things about himself!

“All this time, you know, Uncle Ira was sitting in his desk-chair, making noises, and I was standing beside him holding his head against me. But when I finished talking he put his head down on his papers and wouldn’t let me comfort him at all. Then Maurice took hold of my arm-his
voice wasn’t teasing the least bit any more; it was like he was
begging
me, if you can imagine it, and he said, ‘Now tell me the Founder’s truth, girl.’ And what he asked me was, didn’t I find it even a
little
bit exciting to—to have Uncle Ira bend me over the desk and spank me like that? What a horrid idea! It was the flunkèdest thing I’d ever
heard
of! But his eyes were just blazing, and there was something about his face—I’d never
seen
such an expression! Uncle Ira sat up and looked at me, and I realized what he’d think about himself if I said it was just for his sake I’d let him spank me. But the other was such a flunkèd thing to say, what Maurice wanted to believe! Much worse than pretending about the boys; I could hardly make the words come. But I said, ‘If you must know, I guess it is a little bit exciting, in a way.’ I thought
that
ought to satisfy him, but he squeezed my arm harder and said in that same voice, ‘In what way?’ How was I supposed to know what to say then? All I knew was that I had to say something
awful
, and the only thing I could think of was what I’d hear the boys say sometimes; I didn’t even understand it, whether it was possible for girls too, I mean, or how it could apply to a thing like
spanking
, but something told me it was the right thing to say …”

Anastasia’s cheeks flamed; but she pressed on, even regaining her disconcerting glibness. “So I looked him straight in the eye, and I said, ‘When Uncle Ira spanks me with his ruler, Mr. Stoker—it gets me
all hot!
’ Do you see why I had to say that, George?”

In truth it was not until later I learned her exact meaning, but I thought I had the general sense of the situation, and took my cue from Max in praising once again her astonishing selflessness and deploring the flunkèdness of which she had been victim.

“I could have
died
for shame!” Anastasia declared. “But it turned out Maurice didn’t believe a word of what I said. It was as if that’s what he’d
wanted
to hear, all right, but it made him mad to hear it—because he wanted it to be true and knew it wasn’t. He almost hit me himself! ‘
Flunk
you!’ I remember him shouting at me. ‘How far will you go?’ Then out of a clear sky he tells Uncle Ira he wants to marry me (what he really said was, he
had
to marry me), and he looked at me in this twisted kind of way; it scared me to see him. He said he’d guarantee Uncle Ira’s business would get twice as big if I’d marry him. It was strictly a business deal, he said: if Uncle Ira wanted to prove what he’d bragged about before, here was his chance; it would be like selling me for a big profit. But he ought to understand (this was Maurice talking) what he was letting me in for …”

“I
will
kill him, Max!” I vowed.

But Anastasia bade me hear her out. What Stoker’s proposition came to, it developed, had not even the technical respectability of marriage: she was to become upon his completion of Ira’s business, the mistress of Stoker’s every whim and craving—the which, he hinted darkly, were as infinite in number as they were bestial in character.

“It was a
terrible
spot to be in,” she said. “If Uncle Ira said no, he’d lose his business and have to admit he was generous at heart; if he said yes, he’d lose me—and he really did need me—and probably hate himself besides for what he’d done. I wanted to decide
for
him, so he wouldn’t have to blame himself; but I didn’t know which to choose either, I loved them both so …”

“You
loved
them?” I cried, and Max, equally astonished, said, “Stoker too yet!”

“Well, you know what I mean: he was really terribly upset! It was perfectly plain to me he just needed somebody to get things out of his system with, and he was as afraid of showing it as Uncle Ira was. Why do you suppose men are that way?”

I was sure I didn’t know.

“Anyhow, I couldn’t say a word, and neither could Uncle Ira, and Maurice wouldn’t. He walked out of the study with this set look on his face, and Uncle Ira and I kind of followed after, as if we could’ve been going up to our rooms or out for a walk or anything. We ended up out front where Maurice’s motorcycle was, and it seemed to me Uncle Ira must have been wanting me to go with Maurice, or he would have made me stay in the house. Or maybe he thought I was leading the way, I don’t know. Anyhow Maurice got on the motorcycle and started up, and everybody kind of hesitated, and it didn’t seem to me there was anything I could do then but go with him; everybody seemed to be waiting for me. I don’t remember deciding: one minute I was standing with Uncle Ira, the next I was in Maurice’s sidecar and off we were going, just like the wind, and Maurice threw back his head and laughed!”

She tisked her mouth-corner. “That was a couple of years ago. And you know, he
did
keep his word to Uncle Ira, even though in a way he didn’t have to—I mean, since he had me anyhow. I think that was very good of him, don’t you? There’s something really
decent
about Maurice, way down deep.”

“Deep is right,” Max said. His voice was hushed with appall. Recalling the distressed young co-eds of legend, I assumed she had been kept prisoner since that fateful day—her husband being after all the warden of
Main Detention—and fervently offered my services to the end of freeing her, by force if necessary. But Anastasia was merely amused by my suggestion: she was no prisoner at all, she declared; on the contrary, she came and went from their lodgings at the Power Plant quite as she pleased-witness her position in the NTC Psych Clinic—and was persuaded Stoker would not restrain her should she ever choose to leave him permanently. However, he had after all married her, “in a way” (she did not explain in what way), at her insistence, and she didn’t mean to shirk her conjugal obligations. Moreover, he needed her ever so much more than her Uncle Ira had.

“Then all that talk of mistreating you was just to scare you for some reason?” I asked. “I’m glad to hear
that!
Aren’t you, Max?”