Black Chalk

Months after Asia, while travelling around Europe, Jolyon had once again made sure to stay close to backpacking Americans. They had such an easy manner and he felt comfortable and safe around them, especially whenever a situation felt hazardous. Americans believed in their rights and standing up for them vociferously. Jolyon always felt secure in their constitutionalist company.

One night in Venice he had been crossing the Piazza San Marco, the whole experience like wandering through the jewellery box of a wealthy duchess, and next to him a Montanan named Todd had gasped at the view and said, ‘Man, that’s it. I’m seriously moving to Europe when I’m done with the whole college shitstorm. All the best Americans end up in Europe anyway.’

The notion that all the best Americans ended up in Europe appealed to Jolyon and Jolyon liked to cherish and cultivate the notions that appealed to him best.

And this Chad looked like one of the good guys. Jolyon had teased him about his name only to indicate that potentially he liked him. But then Jolyon remembered that, unlike the British, Americans tended not to initiate their friendships this way. In his head he now ran over the words he had spoken aloud. ‘Who on earth names their son after a Third World fucking country?’

Yes, perhaps his crabbiness had made the words, intended as a welcoming joke, sound a little severe.

IV(ii) ‘I wasn’t baptised Chad,’ said Chad. ‘It’s from my middle name – Chadwick.’

But Jolyon couldn’t abandon the joke, he had to follow through to show it had been only a joke in the first place. He tried to sound playful. ‘So you actually choose to be named after a Third World country?’

The English had such a sarcastic way with their vowels. To Chad’s ears everything for those first few months had sounded biting or wry. I’m going to the sooh-permarket for some booh-ze and cheeh-se. It was like living submerged in an ocean of Oscar Wildes.

He couldn’t think of an immediate response to the Third World quip. Everything had gone wrong in the span of mere seconds. To have approached this foreign stranger in Pitt’s front quad was the número dos bravest thing he had ever done. But now courage felt like foolishness. He felt the blood climbing toward his cheeks, the patter of its hot little feet.

‘I’m sorry, I’m a little tired and I didn’t mean to . . . I’m Jolyon,’ said Jolyon, offering his hand. ‘Like Julian but pronounced jolly, which might seem ironic right now.’

Chad initiated part two of the plan. ‘Jolyon,’ he said, pronouncing the name carefully, Jolly-un, so that he would not forget it. And then Chad abandoned the plan completely, still smarting despite the apology. ‘Sounds like a country and western singer,’ he said, ‘You know, with suede tassels and big hooters.’

Jolyon considered the foreign final word, its alien vowels and consonants. Hooh-durrs. What did it mean? But then the universal gesture of men the world over, hands cupped above the midriff, gave the game away.

‘Jesus, you’re right, Chad,’ said Jolyon, taking absolutely no offence. And then, laughing and leaning in, Jolyon pointed over Chad’s shoulder. ‘You see that guy over there?’ he said.

Rounding the other side of Pitt’s front quad and being helped by his parents and two more second years was yet another freshman. He was wearing a businessman’s blue pinstripe shirt tucked stiffly into black jeans.

Jolyon leaned in further. It made Chad feel like his most trusted confidant and together they were about to embark upon an act of heroic subversion.

‘That guy’s name is Prost,’ Jolyon whispered. ‘I met him in the bar when I came up for interview. You know how most people, when they take a year off before starting university, visit Asia and come back as Buddhists? Or try and sleep with as many Scandinavians as they can while backpacking round Europe?’

Chad nodded for want of a better or more truthful response.

‘Well, Prost over there took a year off and you know what he did? He worked for a bank. I swear to God, a major bank for an entire year. Commercial loans division. I bought him a pint and he told me all about it like he’s so much better than everyone else who, you know, maybe just wanted one last scrap of fun before entering the big, bad scary world of adults.’ Jolyon leaned back and raised an eyebrow. ‘The guy’s a one hundred per cent, grade A, total fucking cock.’

Chad laughed, his splutter too loud so great was his sense of relief.

Jolyon clapped him on the shoulder. ‘You know, now I come to think of it, Chad’s a cool name. The incorruptible cop, the sheriff who stands alone against the band of outlaws.’ Jolyon smiled. It was the sort of smile you longed to earn. And then he said, ‘If you help me with my bags, I promise I’ll buy you a pint.’

‘Sure,’ said Chad. ‘You know, I kinda planned to offer anyway.’

‘Excellent,’ said Jolyon.

So they were going to be friends. It was agreed.

Jolyon had decided.

V