The Graduate by Charles Webb Page B

the table.
    “You’ve been away,” Mrs. Robinson said.
    “What?”
    “Weren’t you away for a while?”
    “Oh,” Benjamin said. “The trip. I took a trip.”

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    “Where did you go,” Mrs. Robinson said, taking a sip of her martini.
    “Where did I go?”
    “Yes.”
    “Where did I go,” Benjamin said. “Oh. North. I went north.”
    “Was it fun?”
    Benjamin nodded, “It was,” he said. “Yes.”
    Mrs. Robinson sat quietly a few moments, smiling across the table at him.
    “Darling?” she said.
    “Yes?”
    “You don’t have to be so nervous, you know.”
    “Nervous,” Benjamin said. “Well I am a bit nervous. I mean it’s—it’s pretty hard to be suave when you’re...” He shook his head.
    Mrs. Robinson sat back in her chair and picked up her drink again.
    “Tell me about your trip,” she said.
    “Well,” Benjamin said. “There’s not much to tell.”
    “What did you do,” she said.
    “What did I do,” Benjamin said. “Well I fought a fire.”
    “Oh?”
    “Yes. The big forest fire up there. You might have—you might have read about it in the newspaper.”
    She nodded.
    “It was quite exciting,” Benjamin said. “It was quite exciting to be right up there in the middle of it. They had some Indians too.”
    “Did you put it out?”
    “What?”
    “Did you get the fire out all right?”
    “Oh,” Benjamin said. “Well there were some others fighting it too.
    There were—yes. It was under control when I left.”
    “Good,” she said.

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    Benjamin picked up his glass and quickly finished the drink. “Well,” he said. “I’ll buy you another.”
    Mrs. Robinson held up her glass. It was still nearly full. “Oh,” Benjamin said. He nodded.
    “Benjamin?”
    “What.”
    “Will you please try not to be so nervous?”
    “I am trying!”
    “All right,” she said.
    Benjamin shook his head and turned to look out the window again.
    “Did you get us a room?” Mrs. Robinson said.
    “What?”
    “Have you gotten us a room yet?”
    “I haven’t. No.”
    “Do you want to?”
    “Well,” Benjamin said. “I don’t—I mean I could. Or we could just talk.
    We could have another drink and just talk. I’d be perfectly happy to—”
    “Do you want me to get it?”
    “You?” he said, looking up at her. “Oh no. No. I’ll get it.” He began nodding.
    “Do you want to get it now?” she said.
    “Now?”
    “Yes.”
    “Well,” he said. “I don’t know.”
    “Why don’t you get it.”
    “Why don’t I get it now? Right now?”
    “Why don’t you.”
    “Well,” Benjamin said. “I will then.” He rose from the table. “I’ll get it right now then.” He walked a few steps away, stopped, then turned around and came back. “Mrs. Robinson. I’m sorry to be so awkward about this but—”

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    “I know,” she said.
    Benjamin shook his head and walked across the Verandah Room. He stood for several moments in the doorway looking at the clerk behind the main desk, then finally pushed his hands down into his pockets and walked across the thick white carpet.
    “Yes sir?” the clerk said.
    “A room. I’d like a room, please.”
    “A single room or a double room,” the clerk said.
    “A single,” Benjamin said. “Just for myself, please.”
    The clerk pushed a large book across the counter at him. “Will you sign the register, please?” There was a pen on the counter beside the book. Benjamin picked it up and quickly wrote down his name. Then he stopped and continued to stare at the name he had written as the clerk slowly pulled the register back to his side.
    “Is anything wrong, sir?”
    “What? No. Nothing.”
    “Very good, sir,” the clerk said. “We have a single room on the fifth floor. Twelve dollars. Would that be suitable?”
    “Yes,” Benjamin said, nodding. “That would be suitable.” He reached for his wallet.
    “You can pay when you check out, sir.”
    “Oh,” Benjamin said. “Right.