Rebel Without a Cause (42 page)

L: ‘You were crying then?’

I know I was crying and my aunt rushed in so fast I was afraid of her too.

L: ‘Do you remember if he touched you?’

No; he was standing at the foot of the bed. He didn’t reach over; he didn’t touch me …

L: ‘Do you remember what his face was like?’

I couldn’t see his face: I could just see an outline; his face wasn’t on it. Like a shadow, I could see right through him.

L: ‘But did you see his outline?’

An outline, just an outline. It was in the daytime. They must have put me to sleep early in the afternoon or maybe in the morning. He wasn’t there when I fell asleep; he went out with my aunt before I slept but he was there when I woke up.

L: ‘Do you remember having gone to a moving picture with your mother and your father? How old were you then?’

I was real small. I wasn’t older than six or eight months.

L: ‘Do you remember what you saw?’

Men—with big hats—real big hats, cowboys. It was a cowboy picture I think. I think it was the first show I ever went to.

L: ‘Tell what you remember about it.’

It’s hard to think. All I remember about it … In the show it was dark. I could see the bright rays of light coming from the projector room flashing on the screen. It was a cowboy picture, big hats, guns. O, I know! It was dark. The rays from the projector room—they—were—the lights that—that—I saw coming from my father’s eyes! When we went to the show I wasn’t even sitting in my mother’s lap, just sort of lying in—her—arms, half-lying, half-sitting; and I remember the rays of light going to the screen. My father … Whether I imagine the man who was—when I was in the baby carriage, I don’t know. I—I thought I saw a man—with a black hat and a dark
overcoat. His face was sunken in and dried up. His eyes were soft. I wasn’t crying, just looking at him, looking at him—and he looked at me too, for a moment or so. But I don’t know why when I was sitting in my high chair with my father and mother at the table, why it started getting dark all of a sudden. I can’t explain that. I remember my father’s face looking at me, then changing, the lights getting brighter and brighter, the rays seeming to shoot from his eyes; then it started getting dark, but it didn’t just get real dark, everything at once. It was like a cloud of—smoke—or gas, so I couldn’t see; like real black smoke coming rolling in, covering everything, filling in all the air around …

L: ‘Now continue from where you saw your father’s eyes shining.’

I could see the sunlight, the daylight, in the next room next to the kitchen where I was sitting. The darkness just seems to vanish into the floor. The lights are still there. I can feel them on me. My mother—she seems to be eating. The lights are still there and he looks at my mother. It’s hard to see the lights because there is daylight in the room, but I can make them out a little bit; they haven’t disappeared. I guess he is paying no attention to me. I was crying then. My mother and father seemed to be talking. The lights are between my mother and my father, between them, in the center. They are disappearing, going into daylight. They disappear. There’s just beams of light. My father’s eyes seem to be getting smaller, smaller. They seem to be going away. The blackness is coming, blackness with a very small bit of light in the middle. I guess that’s his eyes. There is a very small light, then it goes away. It goes away. I see a saucer on my board, a spoon in it; a saucer on the board that folds over the highchair. I don’t remember seeing it there before. I don’t know where—how the saucer got there, how the spoon and the saucer got there. There is some liquid in the saucer, the spoon is turned toward my left hand, as if I was going to pick it up with my left hand. I don’t remember seeing the saucer before. I see the sun in the other room, the rays coming in, coming in at an angle; and the sun on the floor seems to be just splattered all over. I can’t see the window, just the floor. I’m afraid to look at him. I’m afraid to see that light. I’m not eating. The saucer has a spoon in it and there is a liquid in it. I don’t look at my father; I’m afraid of his eyes. He’s got black eyes, like coal. I—I know—I
must have been seven or eight months old. I couldn’t feed myself. I could just about sit up. I can see the saucer and the spoon because that’s in the liquid and all I can see is the handle of the spoon sticking out of the saucer. There—there seems to be a calendar over my father’s head. A calendar is there, with a picture of a—a big ship on it. I can see over his head but I am afraid to look at him because when I look at him I see the lights. I’m just looking at the steamship. It seems to be coming towards me. It’s a front view. I can’t see the numbers on the calendar: it’s all jumbled up, the months, all jumbled and mixed. It’s a big calendar. The numbers are big. I can see my mother now. I can see all the dishes, the cups in front of her, and her hair … I know she is staring at me but her eyes are not cruel. When I can look quick I see they are soft. I look at the table and see the dishes. I feel that my mother is looking at me. I can see the salt and pepper shakers and they look to me like they’re penises, two penises standing up on small round discs, small round glass discs. One is real white and I can see the white stuff in it. The other one is different-colored. I see the tin caps on them, round tin caps. I don’t know why they should remind me of penises; but they look like them standing on two discs. These salt and pepper shakers are just standing there. I just can’t seem to get them out of my vision. I’m looking at them and they are standing there. They’re just standing there. I can’t get them out of my mind …

L: ‘Harold, today I want you to go back again to the things you were telling me about yesterday. There is no more darkness. You are sitting in your highchair; the spoon in the saucer is immersed in the liquid, its handle pointed toward the left. You are sitting near your mother. As you look into the next room you see the sunlight on the floor, thick, heavy, splattered. Over your father’s head you notice a calendar with the picture of a ship on it. Now you continue.’

The handle of the spoon is towards my mother. On the table there are other dishes. I can still see the salt and pepper shakers. They keep reminding me of two penises. I seem to be sitting just a few inches, maybe a foot, above the level of the table. I look down sort of and see the salt and pepper shakers at an angle with the table. I’m not sitting as high as my mother and father. They are sitting
higher than I am and their heads are higher. My mother looks at me. She says something but I can’t understand. My father is sitting there. Nothing wrong with him. It’s light. I can see he’s got a white shirt on. There are a lot of dishes on the table. I don’t know how they got there or what. The sun is real bright, very bright. It’s hitting on the shiny floor; it looks like smeared over the floor. When I was sitting in the show … I know … My mother is holding me on her lap. I’m held in her right arm. I can look up and back a little bit and I can see flashes of rays from the projecting room. I know when I used to go out in my baby carriage the sun would shine; but my eyes were alright—in the carriage. The sun is shining; nothing seems wrong. I guess I was about six or seven months old then. I know I could sit up just a little bit. I see a lot of different things, housetops, trees, poles and wires. Now I see the baby carriage … It—everything—seems—jumbled up …

L: ‘Now you can remember things very clearly, so clearly that you can act them out. You are going to act just as you did when all this happened. You are getting smaller, smaller. You are a little baby again. You are going to behave just as you behaved when all this happened. Now you are a little baby. You are wrapped in a blanket, all around. You are with your mother and father in a moving picture theatre. Your mother is holding you in her right arm; you are lying in her arm. Now you are going to tell me about it. It’s dark. Through the darkness you see the lights from the projector. Now you are going to behave just as you behaved then; and you are going to tell me about it, tell me about it completely. Go ahead!’

I can see the screen—and the big hats on it. I can see a big man. He is laughing. I can see his face a little bit. He turns his head and I can see his hat. He is laughing. I can hear music—soft organ music. It’s dark. I can make out figures around me, people’s heads and … My mother seems to be watching everything. When I touch her she puts my hand down. She seems to be watching the picture closely. In my mother’s arms—it’s soft—real soft—like … I move my feet a little bit. I can hear some music. I can look up and see back a little. I see flashes of light going by. I see the lights
from the projector room in the back and—my father—he looks at me … He is talking to my mother in whispers. I can see his face.

It’s got some light on it. My mother, when I touch her—she pushes my hand down. She is more interested in the picture than in me. I see the picture, people’s heads in front and on the side of me. All I see is the shape of the heads. I can’t see the features of the faces and the heads, just the shapes. I see the screen lit up. I see a horse. I don’t hear the horse. I see it walking by. It looks so soft and smooth. The horse opens its mouth. Its mouth has big teeth in it, big teeth. I see his face. He’s all—laughing, laughing at something. Another—fellow—falls off—a horse into the—water. That’s what he’s laughing at. The screen is moving, it’s jumping, jerking, moving … I can’t see the rays from the projection room very much when they are close to the screen. I see the light where it is real small. It looks almost like a circular light. I can’t hear anything much except the music. My father is talking to my mother; they are whispering something. I—I see horses on the screen. No noise. I see—like dust—clouds of dust. It’s settling now. There seems to be a noise. I’m in a comfortable position. I want to go to sleep I guess. I don’t know what it is that I’m playing with. It’s—beads—or … It’s something circular, rough, big. I put it in my mouth. My mother looks pretty and young: she has long brown hair. My father has black hair. I can see it; it’s all lying down on his head real nice. Nothing is wrong with him. He looks well built, not thick, not fat. But far—far off in the back—why—I can look back and see over my mother’s shoulder or arm. I see—in the blackness—this light, a lot of rays coming out of it. They all seem to be shooting at me. It—it scares me. I am afraid. I see the lights in my father’s face and I am afraid. I remember how we came in. We came in on the—left—side. There was a carriage. It’s not a big theatre. We came in and they carried me through the lobby in the back. We went towards the—left side, down the aisle; and we sit on the left side of the screen. When we came to the show it wasn’t dark, not dark. It was in the summertime. I can see people running up and
down. There seem to be—trucks and automobiles. I can hear the noise of some truck as it goes by. It just goes by and … We went across the street in the carriage with my mother. The noise didn’t bother me very much. The big truck, it shook me a little bit but it didn’t frighten me. We’re going along the street. My mother is pushing the carriage. My father isn’t pushing it. My father is walking on the—left side. The belt feels tight around me. About eight months old. I can sit up in the carriage a little but this belt is on me all the time. I can’t move past the belt. I see the tops of houses and buildings going by. Once in a while I get a look at some person, get a look at somebody walking by. It’s daylight but the sun isn’t shining brightly. It just feels nice to be riding, riding, except I hate to go over bumps, gutters. When we walk in the show my father puts his hand on my chest. He wants to look at me. I don’t like him to put his hand on me. It makes it hard to breathe. That morning, when I’m sitting in my highchair I see the lights. Those lights from my father seem to be piercing. The lights … It’s hot. The lights … I remember them from the show.

L: ‘Harold, this is the day after you were taken to the show, isn’t it?’

I … I got up late that morning. My father and mother were in bed late. I never saw them both in bed before. I guess they … I don’t know … When I was sitting in my mother’s arms in the show … I can still hear the music.

L: ‘Did you awaken in the show or when you came out?’

My mother sat up and shook me a little bit. We went out and she—put—me in the—carriage. She covers me up in it. We start going home. There’s a—lot—of people in the street. It’s dark when we are going home. The stores must have been open late. I—it—is—Saturday night …

L: ‘Harold, the morning of which you have been speaking was a Sunday morning, was it not?’

Yes. It was last night. It was last night when we went to the show, wasn’t it? My father was never in bed late with my mother before. I never saw him before …

When I’m sitting in the kitchen, the darkness … I see two lights. They’re—together—like in the show. I—I’m crying when it gets dark. She didn’t seem to pay much attention to me. I didn’t cry before it got dark, only when his face started getting all cut up. I
was afraid of him. I was crying. I know I was afraid of him. I was crying when my aunt rushed into the room. This—man—I could look through … I could see him standing there. He didn’t seem to do anything. When he spoke to me I started crying, yelling. My aunt rushed in. Her face was funny; her head was funny and she was dressed funny. O! O! I see a picture … It’s got an outline of a man, completely black, just a shape, a silhouette, on the screen. That’s it! O! O! This is the afternoon, the afternoon after that morning. The shape was in the show last night. That’s where I saw the figure. I remember it and it scares me. I’m afraid. I cry. My aunt rushes in … My aunt’s face is funny. My father’s face is funny too. I don’t know whether … Before it started to change, before the lights started coming the last time I can remember his face was all—fading out, the darkness coming over it, the whites showing—and—something was wrong. I saw a face like that before. It looked so vicious. It might have been the face of a dog … O! O! O! I see—a picture—in the movie house! I see the picture of something like a dog, a wolf, something … A wolf! They show a picture of him. He runs away. His face … His eyes are shiny, his face looks cut up, sunken in, covered with hair. My father looks like the wolf! His nose got bigger, thinner; it stuck way out; his ears got bigger, pointy just like the wolf …