The catcher in the rye

“She’s a dancer,” I said. “Ballet and all. She used to practice about two hours every day, right in the middle of the hottest weather and all. She was worried that it might make her legs lousy — all thick and all. I used to play checkers with her all the time.”

“You used to play what with her all the time?”

“Checkers.”

“Checkers, for Chrissake!”

“Yeah. She wouldn’t move any of her kings. What she’d do, when she’d get a king, she wouldn’t move it. She’d just leave it in the back row. She’d get them all lined up in the back row. Then she’d never use them. She just liked the way they looked when they were all in the back row.”

Stradlater didn’t say anything. That kind of stuff doesn’t interest most people.

“Her mother belonged to the same club we did,” I said. “I used to caddy once in a while, just to make some dough. I caddy’d for her mother a couple of times. She went around in about a hundred and seventy, for nine holes.”

Stradlater wasn’t hardly listening. He was combing his gorgeous locks.

“I oughta go down and at least say hello to her,” I said.

“Why don’tcha?”

“I will, in a minute.”

He started parting his hair all over again. It took him about an hour to comb his hair.

“Her mother and father were divorced. Her mother was married again to some booze hound,” I said. “Skinny guy with hairy legs. I remember him. He wore shorts all the time. Jane said he was supposed to be a playwright or some goddam thing, but all I ever saw him do was booze all the time and listen to every single goddam mystery program on the radio. And run around the goddam house, naked. With Jane around, and all.”

“Yeah?” Stradlater said. That really interested him. About the booze hound running around the house naked, with Jane around. Stradlater was a very sexy bastard.

“She had a lousy childhood. I’m not kidding.”

That didn’t interest Stradlater, though. Only very sexy stuff interested him.

“Jane Gallagher. Jesus…” I couldn’t get her off my mind. I really couldn’t. “I oughta go down and say hello to her, at least.”

“Why the hell don’tcha, instead of keep saying it?” Stradlater said.

I walked over to the window, but you couldn’t see out of it, it was so steamy from all the heat in the can.. “I’m not in the mood right now,” I said. I wasn’t, either. You have to be in the mood for those things. “I thought she went to Shipley. I could’ve sworn she went to Shipley.” I walked around the can for a little while. I didn’t have anything else to do. “Did she enjoy the game?” I said.

“Yeah, I guess so. I don’t know.”

“Did she tell you we used to play checkers all the time, or anything?”

“I don’t know. For Chrissake, I only just met her,” Stradlater said. He was finished combing his goddam gorgeous hair. He was putting away all his crumby toilet articles.

“Listen. Give her my regards, willya?”

“Okay,” Stradlater said, but I knew he probably wouldn’t. You take a guy like Stradlater, they never give your regards to people.

He went back to the room, but I stuck around in the can for a while, thinking about old Jane. Then I went back to the room, too.

Stradlater was putting on his tie, in front of the mirror, when I got there. He spent around half his goddam life in front of the mirror. I sat down in my chair and sort of watched him for a while.

“Hey,” I said. “Don’t tell her I got kicked out, willya?”

“Okay.”

That was one good thing about Stradlater. You didn’t have to explain every goddam little thing with him, the way you had to do with Ackley. Mostly, I guess, because he wasn’t too interested. That’s really why. Ackley, it was different. Ackley was a very nosy bastard.

He put on my hound’s-tooth jacket.

“Jesus, now, try not to stretch it all over the place,” I said. I’d only worn it about twice.

“I won’t. Where the hell’s my cigarettes?”

“On the desk.” He never knew where he left anything. “Under your muffler.” He put them in his coat pocket — my coat pocket.

I pulled the peak of my hunting hat around to the front all of a sudden, for a change. I was getting sort of nervous, all of a sudden. I’m quite a nervous guy. “Listen, where ya going on your date with her?” I asked him. “Ya know yet?”

“I don’t know. New York, if we have time. She only signed out for nine-thirty, for Chrissake.”

I didn’t like the way he said it, so I said, “The reason she did that, she probably just didn’t know what a handsome, charming bastard you are. If she’d known, she probably would’ve signed out for nine-thirty in the morning.”

“Goddam right,” Stradlater said. You couldn’t rile him too easily. He was too conceited. “No kidding, now. Do that composition for me,” he said. He had his coat on, and he was all ready to go. “Don’t knock yourself out or anything, but just make it descriptive as hell. Okay?”

I didn’t answer him. I didn’t feel like it. All I said was, “Ask her if she still keeps all her kings in the back row.”

“Okay,” Stradlater said, but I knew he wouldn’t. “Take it easy, now.” He banged the hell out of the room.