Rebel Without a Cause (34 page)

When I was younger everybody used to feel sorry for me because my eyes were that way. My aunts, my grandmother, everybody. My grandmother never said anything about it, neither did my aunt Louise, but my aunt Vanya did. When I was younger everybody used to pet me too. My aunt Louise, I think she liked me most. When we lived on B—— Street she would bring toys home for me, and when I was at her house she always had some cake. I used to eat a lot of cake when I was out. My grandmother always treated me fine too.

I don’t think we lived in P—— very long. I was still small when we moved. My father had a brother or a cousin or some sort of relative there, and I guess that’s one reason we went there. He was in the business of reconditioning tires. This was about twenty years ago. I don’t know what happened. He didn’t like me in the shop where he was working because I used to get in his way. The sun was shining through the big windows and I’d walk in the sunlight and I couldn’t see anything. When I was in the sunlight I’d cover my eyes and then bang into something or other and he’d get angry with me. At that age my sister was very young and my mother was still nursing
her, nursing her at the breast. My sister had the measles when we were living at F—— Street. I can remember that because the doctor—he was a tall, thin doctor and he wore a dark suit—he said that I wouldn’t get them because I’d had them once. My sister was only about three or four months old when we lived in P——. She was born when we lived in B——. We lived in a two-story house with another family. They had two children, the girl about four and the boy around two, a little older than me. They had a little wagon or something and they were aways arguing about it. I was about two when my sister was born and I don’t remember much about it. I know we had a big—a big sunporch, and the sun used to shine. There was linoleum on the floor, of a real light color, and the sun would reflect off that. When I’d sit in my highchair the sun seemed to come up right in my eyes. The windows on the side had shades on them and sometimes my mother would draw the shades.

We didn’t have a car then, but I know my father must have had a good job because he would need a pretty good income to afford the home like we had. Something must have happened; he must have lost his job. This was in nineteen-twenty or twenty-one.

L: ‘Harold, where did you sleep?’

I don’t know. I—I—only remember the—highchair—the highchair. There were—big windows and when I had the measles I used to sit out on the porch to have my meals there. I know we had a large pantry off the kitchen right next to the porch. O, I don’t know: I can’t seem to remember.

L: ‘Do you remember where you slept?’

I guess I had a cradle. I slept in a cradle with squared wooden bars on it. On one side of it was my mother’s bed, on the other side was a big bureau. There were wheels on the cradle, and sometimes my mother would push it over to open a drawer in the bureau when she wanted something. A big mirror. We had a gas stove. It was real light in color; it looked like yellow, real light. We had a kitchen and a bedroom where my mother and my father and I slept, and dining room. There was a big funny-like chandelier, with glass on it. It used to shine when the lights were on, and tinkle when the wind blew through the rooms. And in the parlor we had funny furniture, old, very old-fashioned. The dining room—there were I guess eight chairs in the dining room, and a big table in the center of the room.
The chandelier hung right above the table. In my mother’s bedroom there was the bed and the cradle was between the bed and the bureau, and there were two other bureaus in the room and a closet.

L: ‘On whose side of the bed was the cradle placed?’

On my mother’s side. O … I used to sleep on my mother’s right. My father on the left. Sometimes I would sleep in the bed; they would have me in when I couldn’t sleep or something was bothering me. Sometimes when I would cry or something my mother would—reach—out through the bars and—pat me and quiet me. And often, in the morning, when my father would leave for work, I would be sleeping and—she—would take me out of the cradle and put me in the—bed—with her. There were two big windows in the room, both with curtains and shades. Every morning, around mid-morning, the sun would come in and shine on the linoleum on the floor. The linoleum was real shiny. Sometimes when the shades were drawn it seemed as if the sun still was coming in, but most of the time they were up. O, we lived on the second story—because—when you looked out the window—there—wasn’t anything for a long way, and then there was another house.…

L: ‘Do you remember anything that happened when you were in the cradle next to the bed?’

I know—my father used to holler at my mother when I cried—when I couldn’t sleep or something. It makes me feel as if I—can still hear—it makes me—feel as though he—was—always hollering at me—when he—something—when he was saying something to my mother about me crying. I can’t remember much about it. The beads on the highchair always seem to come up. I spent a lot of time in that highchair.

L: ‘Do you remember anything that happened, early in the morning, when you were in the cradle?… It was a little dark, the sun was just coming up, and you were in the cradle?’

It seems to me that I was old enough to—stand up—in the cradle and—hold on—to the sides. When I looked—in the mirror—on the floor—the sun seemed to shine from the windows and everything seemed to be coming—right—into my eyes. They always got up about the same time, and every time they’d get up the room filled with sunlight. The sun seemed to be glancing off the walls, the floor, everything.…

There was one time, I guess I woke up around the regular hour. Every time I woke up I’d look at my mother’s bed—to—see—if they—if she—was in bed. I’d never see my father in bed with her because he already went to work. Either my mother was in the kitchen or in bed, and as soon as I woke up I’d look over there to see her. I guess I just got into the habit to just wake up and look right over there.

I—I—remember my father … I know—at night—sometimes he would—holler at my mother—I guess to quiet me when I was crying and—he wanted to—sleep.

I saw him in bed—one morning—I woke up—and—I saw something. I saw my—mother and father—in bed. I guess I must have been looking at them for about a minute there. My mother—looked—naked—to me; my father had his—underwear—or something—on him. I saw—I saw—them—having—having intercourse. It was a Sunday morning, I guess, because he never used to be in bed in the morning—and—one morning—he was there. Then—they were having—intercourse—and my mother was—I remember—my mother saw my—saw me looking at them. She was saying something to my father—and then—she—turned around. I guess my father was—on top—of her, and he—I don’t know—I … When my mother saw me looking at them she—must have—told my father—and my father looked at me. I got scared—but—when he picked himself up—I—I saw—his genitals—and—I saw my—Oooo … But I know—my mother—she pulled the nightgown down over her knees and she got up and started talking to me. She went in the kitchen—and sat me in the high-chair and started to make breakfast for my father. I was sitting in the highchair playing with the beads. My mother was talking to me. I don’t know what she was saying. She was fixing the table. Then she called my father and he came out and got dressed and sat down at the table. I don’t know … I—he—started talking to me I guess. I don’t know what he said. I don’t know. I don’t know. Everything seems blurred to me.…

L: ‘Try to go back to that scene and reconstruct it as fully as you can.’

I know I used to wake up every morning and the sun was shining
in the room, and I never used to see my father in bed. I usually could see my mother. Every day when I got up I’d look at my mother’s bed to see if she was up. If she was in—bed—I’d make—a noise so she’d hear me and talk to me. One time I woke up—and—I looked—at the bed. I saw my mother. I could see all the ways up to her hips. She was naked. I could see—my father—on top of her—my—father—on top. They were—having intercourse. I—they—were saying something, I didn’t understand what. I looked at it for a little while. It seemed like a year. Then I guess my mother looked over at me. She pushed my father and—and I guess she said I was up. He—picked himself up. When he did I—saw—his—genitals—and my mother’s. My father’s genitals were—big, so big. I don’t know. I don’t know. I—I was frightened. He just looked at me. I was scared of him when I saw his genitals. My mother … I was scared of something. My mother jumped out of bed. My father put his back towards us. My mother pulled down her nightgown. She came and picked me up and took me to the other room. My father pulled the covers over him. I—I—it—seemed queer to me. The sun was shining—shining into the room.

L: ‘You were afraid?’

I was afraid of my father. I—he always hollered when I cried. He was angry at my mother. I used to hear him. When he was sitting at the table talking to me I was afraid of him. I don’t know. I guess I was always afraid—that he’d do something—hit me or—something. I was just sitting there. He was asking me what was the matter. I don’t know. I can’t … I guess I was afraid, seeing—seeing his—genitals. They seemed so big and so … It seemed as if they—were—going to—hurt me. They were something—like—like a strong animal to me, not like a dog you could pet and play with and that wouldn’t bite you. This was going to hurt me or—somehow it was going to do something. I don’t know. It all seems so blurred.

L: ‘Did you think he was going to hurt your mother?’

I don’t know. I was afraid he would hurt
me.
I was afraid seeing my father’s genitals. They looked like a new, different animal, a vicious animal, a dog. I heard my mother say something to him. I know she said, “He is looking,” or something like that. I—it seemed she was saying … She was crying. She seemed to be saying that he—should—stop it. She—I—she was telling him not to do it
because—it hurts. I can hear it. My father always seemed rough. He always hollered at me. I guess I must have thought he might hurt my mother. I guess I was afraid of him. I always thought he would hit me or something, that he might hurt me …

L: ‘With his genitals?’

It seemed like that. I guess I was afraid of him because his genitals seemed like something that would—that would—hurt instead of … I just looked at them, for a long time, a minute or so. When he picked himself up I saw his genitals then … I don’t know. I was afraid of them.… So big and—so—vicious-looking—so—brutal. They … I saw my mother all the way up, all the—hair and—everything, her—genitals. He seemed to be saying she should lie still and that he is not hurting her or anything. He said it in a way … I guess he must have been hurting her. It seemed he didn’t care about anything. She was saying he was hurting her, he should stop it. When she looked over at me I could see her eyes. I guess I was afraid, looking at her. When my father looked over at me and saw I was awake, he jumped up then. When he did, I saw his genitals—so I got more afraid—that he’d be coming over to me and—hurting—me with—his genitals. I—I—my father was hurting her. She was hollering he should stop it. He was talking—if—in such a tone that he didn’t care whether he was hurting her or not. When my mother picked me up, everything seemed all right again. She held me real close to her. It made me—feel—safe. Then when I was in the highchair and my father came in again I was scared of him. I was afraid of my father, not my mother. I could see when she had her nightgown way up over her hips her—genitals—very hairy and—black. It was something different, something I—never saw before. I just felt that—it—felt like a carpet or … I can’t seem to remember. I didn’t want to look at it. It looked ugly. I guess I wasn’t afraid of it. I was—afraid—afraid of—his. Her—it might have reminded me of a—a—a cat—that might—scratch you. I know it was something I didn’t—want—to—touch or—see, because it was as if … I was not afraid of it. I was afraid of my father’s.

L: ‘You were afraid of his … Harold, tell me something. Did you ever read any books on abnormal psychology, or psychoanalysis? Have you ever heard anything about psychoanalysis?’

No. I’ve never read anything. I heard only about Freud.

L: ‘What have you heard about Freud? Did you ever read a book by Freud?’

No; I never read any book.

L: ‘Where did you learn the term ‘phallus’?’

I don’t know. Phallus? O, I remember. When I worked at the greenhouse—I worked there for quite a long time—there was a fellow working with me. He used to be a Wall Street broker. He was a fine man: he used to help me increase my vocabulary. Every time a new word would come along he would tell me about it. That’s the way it was with this word.

L: ‘Have you ever discussed any of these things with Perry? Have you ever told him what we are doing, what we are talking about here?’

No—no …

Well, Doctor, I really feel some improvement in my eyes. I don’t know; it’s a funny sort of feeling. It feels as if my eyes were bulging out, as if the muscles were tightening.

L: ‘Well, Harold, that’s fine. I’m glad to hear it. Now, have you anything special to say to me today?’

No, I don’t think so except …

L: ‘Except what?’

Except that Perry has been talking to me again. You know, I told you a long time ago that he asked me if I was telling you everything; so he asked me if I was telling you everything; so he asked me again if I was telling you everything that come into my mind. I told him no, I wasn’t; that there are only three or four things that I can think of at one time and that’s all I’m telling you; the other things I’m forgetting about. So he thinks it will be a complete failure.

L: ‘You told him that you didn’t tell me everything?’

I told him I couldn’t tell you everything. I don’t worry about him.

L: ‘That’s cheerful news about your eyes today.’

It feels sometimes as if my eyelids were holding themselves up; the eyes seem to be bulging out. Yesterday C—— said that the little thing, the lens in the pupil, contracted to a pin-point; that he had never seen it so small. I feel my eyes bulging out. You know, Doc, when you made my eyes stay open after you put me to sleep here; well, when I went into the sun my eyes would stay open. I could feel
it but I couldn’t see anything. But on Saturday I could see a little bit right in the sun. I suppose I will have to get used to it and then the eyes will absorb most of the light …