Read Online Midnight Cowboy by James Leo Herlihy - Free Book Online
Authors: James Leo Herlihy
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matches and began to fool with it, trying to distract himself from the anxiety he felt. The matches were very real and definitely a relief; he bent them and twisted them and put them down and picked them up. Perry was still talking:
“It’s not just tonight you don’t know what to do with.
Your whole life is a burden to you. You frown a lot, Joe. And you pick things up and put them down.” He looked pointedly at the book of matches. “You have plans for burning down the world. But you’re losing a lot of motion, a lot of time. You’ve got to get cool. Find out what you want and rule out everything else, and then you’ll be cool as can be. Now: What have you got to do?”
“Find out what I want?”
“Correct. And then?”
“Ummrn.”
“Rule out …” Perry coached.
“Rule out everything else.”
“Right. Now again.”
“Find out what I want, and rule out everything else.”
“You’re getting tuned in, Joe. That was lesson one. Here’s
exercise
one: this room. What is there in it that you want? Just name it, anything at all, and I’ll see to it you get it.”
Joe started to scan the room with his eyes, and Perry said: “Look at me. Maybe that will help you, Joe. That’s it. Now I’ll ask you again: Is there anything at all you want?”
Joe studied Perry’s face, straining to find a clue in it. But he found none.
“You know, Joe, there are people and quite a few hundred of them at that who would pay out considerable sums of money to be in your position right now: locked in a room with me and being asked what they want.”
Joe was actually dizzy from the mental effort he was expending. Another long moment passed. Then suddenly Perry was off the bed and standing before Joe’s chair, looking down at him. His movement from the bed had been so quick as to be almost violent. The quiet of the place and the mood Joe felt had been instantly annihilated, and now a strange young man had hold of his shirt front, was gripping him in a way that compelled him to look up into his face.
He was surprised to find no anger or violence in the man’s eyes, as there had been in his movements. He was simply looking into Joe’s face in a gently penetrating way, and when he had looked for a long moment, he said, “If we’re going to be friends, Joe, there’s just one rule …”
Joe felt he was living through some miracle: This stranger, a fine and handsome and knowledgeable and authoritative person, was turning his powers, his focus, his friendship, upon such an unworthy object as himself. Surely he had made some mistake in judgment, selecting Joe Buck for his attentions. When he discovered his error that would be the end of it. Meanwhile Joe was terrified of making some wrong gesture, speaking some stupid giveaway word that would hasten Perry’s departure. He tried to think up ways of stalling off this inevitable blunder, little words and gestures that would nudge it gently forward in time. But he wasn’t up to it. He knew he wasn’t up to it. Perry was too wise, too far ahead of the game, he couldn’t be fooled.
... and the rule is, no crap. There is to be no crap. None. I am sick of people who know what they want and won’t take it, won’t even speak up and name it. When I say to you, ‘What do you want, Joe,’ you answer. You just say whatever that thing is you want. You understand me?”
“Yeah. Yeah I do, Perry, I do.”
“That’s good.” His face broke gradually into a smile, and then he released Joe’s shirt front and sat on the edge of the bed, bridging with his eyes the few feet of space between himself and Joe. When Joe’s eyes had joined his own, he said, “Say it now. Name the thing you want.”
Stupid bastard, Joe said to himself,
say
something, talk up, can’t you talk up? So stupid you don’t know what you want? Say something, say anything, and that’ll be a start.
“I, uh, I think I
“It’s not just tonight you don’t know what to do with.
Your whole life is a burden to you. You frown a lot, Joe. And you pick things up and put them down.” He looked pointedly at the book of matches. “You have plans for burning down the world. But you’re losing a lot of motion, a lot of time. You’ve got to get cool. Find out what you want and rule out everything else, and then you’ll be cool as can be. Now: What have you got to do?”
“Find out what I want?”
“Correct. And then?”
“Ummrn.”
“Rule out …” Perry coached.
“Rule out everything else.”
“Right. Now again.”
“Find out what I want, and rule out everything else.”
“You’re getting tuned in, Joe. That was lesson one. Here’s
exercise
one: this room. What is there in it that you want? Just name it, anything at all, and I’ll see to it you get it.”
Joe started to scan the room with his eyes, and Perry said: “Look at me. Maybe that will help you, Joe. That’s it. Now I’ll ask you again: Is there anything at all you want?”
Joe studied Perry’s face, straining to find a clue in it. But he found none.
“You know, Joe, there are people and quite a few hundred of them at that who would pay out considerable sums of money to be in your position right now: locked in a room with me and being asked what they want.”
Joe was actually dizzy from the mental effort he was expending. Another long moment passed. Then suddenly Perry was off the bed and standing before Joe’s chair, looking down at him. His movement from the bed had been so quick as to be almost violent. The quiet of the place and the mood Joe felt had been instantly annihilated, and now a strange young man had hold of his shirt front, was gripping him in a way that compelled him to look up into his face.
He was surprised to find no anger or violence in the man’s eyes, as there had been in his movements. He was simply looking into Joe’s face in a gently penetrating way, and when he had looked for a long moment, he said, “If we’re going to be friends, Joe, there’s just one rule …”
Joe felt he was living through some miracle: This stranger, a fine and handsome and knowledgeable and authoritative person, was turning his powers, his focus, his friendship, upon such an unworthy object as himself. Surely he had made some mistake in judgment, selecting Joe Buck for his attentions. When he discovered his error that would be the end of it. Meanwhile Joe was terrified of making some wrong gesture, speaking some stupid giveaway word that would hasten Perry’s departure. He tried to think up ways of stalling off this inevitable blunder, little words and gestures that would nudge it gently forward in time. But he wasn’t up to it. He knew he wasn’t up to it. Perry was too wise, too far ahead of the game, he couldn’t be fooled.
... and the rule is, no crap. There is to be no crap. None. I am sick of people who know what they want and won’t take it, won’t even speak up and name it. When I say to you, ‘What do you want, Joe,’ you answer. You just say whatever that thing is you want. You understand me?”
“Yeah. Yeah I do, Perry, I do.”
“That’s good.” His face broke gradually into a smile, and then he released Joe’s shirt front and sat on the edge of the bed, bridging with his eyes the few feet of space between himself and Joe. When Joe’s eyes had joined his own, he said, “Say it now. Name the thing you want.”
Stupid bastard, Joe said to himself,
say
something, talk up, can’t you talk up? So stupid you don’t know what you want? Say something, say anything, and that’ll be a start.
“I, uh, I think I
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