Authors: Joyce Carol Oates
comforted Candace and told her he’d take care of her, please don’t cry he’d take care of her, though stunned trying to grasp how Candace could be pregnant; how, when Royall had been so damned careful; and they hadn’t even made love many times, not in any way that might cause a girl to become pregnant. But if it was so, Royall reasoned, it was so; at heart, Royall was a fatalist like his mother.
Honey I love you. It will be O.K.
Are you sure? Oh Royall, are you sure you love me? Because if
—
Candace, sure I’m sure! Everything will be O.K., I promise
.
I’m terrified of telling my mother
.
I can’t tell my mother
.
Unless
—
Don’t tell her yet
.
Until you’re absolutely sure
—
Royall, I am
.
I am absolutely sure. I’ve been sure for twelve days at least
.
Oh Royall
,
you don’t love me
—
Honey, I do! I said I do.
But
—
would you want to marry me anyway? Even if—I wasn’t
—
Candace had broken down weeping as if her heart would break, and what choice had Royall except to comfort her? He’d felt a stir of excitement, pride, dread, but mostly plain wonderment, that he might be a father within nine months; when he felt, most days, like a boy of about twelve. Still, he couldn’t let Candace down. He did love her. She was about the prettiest girl he’d ever seen, in Niagara Falls at least.
So Royall bought an engagement ring at a downtown jeweler’s, a silver setting with a tiny diamond he’d managed, through connections, to get at a discount for ninety dollars. So Royall formally proposed, and Candace McCann tearfully accepted his proposal.
At first, the wedding was set for June. Then, when Candace discovered she wasn’t pregnant after all, the date was moved to October, when Royall’s season with the Devil’s Hole Company ended.
But do you still love me? Royall? Even if
—
Honey, of course
.
I love you more than ever.
You’re sure? Because if
—
I’m sure.
We will have babies, though
.
Won’t we?
Just as many as you want, Candace
.
I promise
.
Such strange gnarly toads, leaping out of Royall Burnaby’s mouth!
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But truly Royall wanted to marry Candace. He loved her, and he couldn’t bear the thought of hurting her. Hearing that girl cry as if her heart was breaking near about broke Royall’s own heart, he’d come to think was a plastic heart. Cheap and easily cracked yet its materials indestructible.
The most surprising thing about Royall’s engagement was Ariah’s reaction. You’d have thought Mom would fly into one of her raging tantrums and kick Royall out of the house; in fact, Ariah drew a deep breath when Royall stammered in embarrassment he “guessed he wanted to get married, it was time,” and told him yes. Yes, it was time. At nineteen, he was old enough. The way girls and women threw themselves at Royall, it was better for him to settle down quickly with a good, sweet, uncomplicated girl like Candace McCann who wouldn’t push him beyond his capabilities, before something disastrous happened. (This could only mean Royall impregnating some unsuitable girl! As if he had no more control of himself than a dog trotting about the neighborhood in thrall to any bitch in heat.) Just as Ariah hadn’t been disappointed when Royall didn’t go to college, but had seemed relieved, so Ariah smiled at the prospect of her younger son marrying. In fact, the newlyweds could live at 1703
Baltic, for a while. Ariah would move out of her upstairs bedroom, and redecorate it for them.
Live with Ariah in that narrow, cramped house! Royall shuddered at the prospect. Poor Candace would be gobbled up alive, and made over into a second daughter for Ariah.
No. The newlyweds would live in a rented flat on Fifth Street, a few minutes’ drive to the Niagara Gorge where Royall worked from May to mid-October and to King’s Dairy, the most popular ice cream parlor in Niagara Falls, where Candace worked at the counter, and was assistant manager. The newlyweds would live alone!
Ariah was disappointed. You could see Ariah was very disappointed.
Those green-gasoline eyes close to igniting. The pale freckled skin tight at her temples, and nerves pulsing beneath.
Royall, you could save on rent. I wouldn’t charge a penny.
Mom, thanks
.
But I guess not.
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Let me speak with Candace. She’s got a practical head on her shoulders.
Mom, no
.
What you save on rent, you can put away for a down payment on a place of
your own. Oh, Royall! Let me talk to Candace
.
Mom, I’d rather you didn’t
.
You know how Candace is around you
.
She admires you so, and she’s afraid of you, and she doesn’t know her own mind
.
Whose mind is she supposed to know? Yours?
Hey, Mom
.
Don’t let’s fight, O.K.? Candace is going to be my wife, not yours
.
Maybe that’s the problem
.
That poor girl needs more family
.
More than just
a husband can provide
.
Mom, the house is too small! Even with Chandler gone, it’s too small. Juliet
would be uncomfortable, sharing the upstairs with Candace and me
.
That’s ridiculous. You know very well that Juliet is brokenhearted that
you’re leaving, Royall
.
She adores you
.
And she adores Candace, as a sister
.
Jesus, Mom. Please
.
Are you afraid to let me speak with Candace? You are!
Mom, stay away from Candace
.
My music room is winterized. You and Chandler did a wonderful job remodeling
.
I’ll move my bed downstairs, and we’ll buy you and Candace a beautiful big double bed. And you can have that mahogany dresser, it’s an antique
.
Candace can pick out a wallpaper design
.
The choice can be entirely hers. And
curtains! Flounced white curains, I think
.
Royall, look at me
.
How can you be
selfish about something so important? Candace deserves all the love she can get
.
Family is all there is on earth. Seeing there’s no God on earth.
By the time Ariah finished this breathless speech she was trembling, and so was Royall. He would recall afterward with a shiver of dread how close he’d come to giving in. Always, it was far easier to give in to Ariah than to resist.
But Royall was stubborn, and refused Ariah’s offer. No, no! If his mother made his wife into a second daughter, then he, Royall, would be sleeping with his sister. Christ!
In the end Ariah relented. But next morning offered to help pay for Candace’s engagement ring. And again Royall gritted his teeth and thanked his mother politely, and declined.
(Luckily Ariah hadn’t known, or guessed, that Candace thought she was pregnant at that time. Ariah was never to know.) 300 W
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Thinking these thoughts, that made the pulses in his head beat, Royall sat in the idling Chevy at the edge of the high school parking lot. He was staring at the buff-brick, flat-roofed, factory-like building. Ordinary, it was, even ugly, yet at dusk, in the early evening, as streetlights came on, the building seemed to float upon the stained asphalt pavement, every window mysteriously darkened. Damn, Royall regretted now he hadn’t tried harder. He’d been such a popular athlete: softball, football, basketball. If he hadn’t had to work after school, he’d have been on all the teams. As it was, he’d been allowed to substitute occasionally, when the team was facing a tough opponent, and Royall could get off from work. He’d been so well-liked, he’d been unaware, maybe, of another way of being; as a dreamer is unaware he’s asleep until wakened. His teachers had certainly encouraged him. If he’d gone to college he wouldn’t be getting married at the age of nineteen . . . Well, many of Royall’s classmates were married already. Girls especially. (Secretly) pregnant before their weddings, and grateful to be married to guys with jobs at Dow Chemical, Parish Plastics, Nabisco, Niagara Hydro. Most of Royall’s male friends worked for these, or similar factories, the highest paid workers’ jobs in Niagara Falls because they were unionized. Royall had never been attracted to factory work. “Real” work, eight hours a day and five days a week, union dues, contracts. The thought of punching a time clock made him wince. Royall Burnaby, who’d been so often applauded as an athlete, and for his singing-and-guitar performances for local audiences, punching a time clock! His pride would never allow it. And his good sense.
If he’d gone to college. But Ariah hadn’t wanted her younger son to go to college.
Over-reaching
.
Ambition. What does it get a man, it gets
him dead.
Ariah had spoken bitterly, unleavened by her usual caustic humor.
What had hurt him, he’d never acknowledged to any living person, was having to follow Chandler in school. Chandler who’d gotten high grades in all subjects, especially math and science. Chandler who’d been a serious student in every class, with few friends and activities to distract him. Royall’s teachers had liked Royall, sure, but they hadn’t been able to resist comparing him constantly to Chandler, to Royall’s
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disadvantage. What the hell, why try? Anything Royall did academi-cally, Chandler had already done better. In some cases, much better.
Fuck it! Royall got into the habit of forgetting homework assignments, cutting exams. He’d told himself that being voted best-looking senior boy was better than being valedictorian of his class like Chandler. Ask the girls.
“Royall! You aren’t looking like your
self
.”
It was the lightest of reproaches. Not a scold. Candace had run to sling her arms around Royall’s neck and kiss his cheek that was uncomfortably warm, and needed shaving.
This long day! He was an hour late, and his breath smelled of beer.
Yet Candace wasn’t going to scold outright, preoccupied with wedding plans. Candace’s sister Annie was there, and two of Candace’s friends, and the phone was ringing, and Candace was in a bright glittery mood, like an astronaut, Royall was thinking, just before the moment of take-off.
Candace kissed Royall again, wetly on the mouth. She had a way of kissing that was exclamatory and victorious. Royall blushed, the others were looking on. If he’d been alone with Candace he would have hugged her tight and buried his face in her crinkly, curly hair. He said not a word. He’d become confused by words. The woman in black had stolen away all his words, and he’d never been an articulate boy. Cap’n Stu had bade him goodbye and good luck with a pulveriz-ing handshake and Royall hadn’t been able to respond with anything more than a wince.
“You can’t stay long, honey. We’re going over the
food
.”
Royall didn’t want to know what this meant. What
food
had to do with him and Candace getting married, or, in fact, what getting married had to do with him and Candace loving each other, or believing they loved each other. Since that night last spring when Candace wept in his arms whispering how she’d die if Royall didn’t love her, he’d been confused.
Sometimes, hearing his fiancée and his mother excitedly discussing the wedding, which was never less than The Wedding, as 302 W
Joyce Carol Oates
you’d say The Holidays, or The Falls, Royall felt like an intruder. A church wedding? Was that what they’d be having? (But Royall wasn’t at all religious. He’d only attended a few services at the Church of Christ and Apostles, a sparrow-colored shingle-sided church on Eleventh Street, to please Candace. He’d had the vague idea that he and Candace would elope over a weekend? No?) Well, a church wedding was what they were having, as Royall learned. A small private wedding. But there would be a bridesmaid, or would there be two bridesmaids? There would be guests, a reception afterward at 1703
Baltic? Quite a surprise, that Ariah who never invited anyone into her home if she could avoid it, except her music students, would suddenly open the house to “guests”; Ariah, who scorned bourgeois convention, and had many times proclaimed her repugnance, to her children, for the “outmoded institution” of marriage, would be playing the organ at her son’s wedding, and had ventured out to buy her first new dress in years, at the Second Time ’Round Fashions downtown. “Royall, did your mother tell you the latest?” Candace asked, her glittery voice quavering. “My mother
is
coming. And, oh God, she insists she’s bringing this ‘man friend’ of hers nobody has ever
seen.
”
Royall shifted his shoulders uncomfortably. He knew he was meant to share Candace’s indignation, or anxiety, but he wasn’t up to it. “I guess you’re tired, honey. That job of yours!” Candace sighed, turning to appeal to her sister and friends, with whom no doubt she’d been sharing her disapproval of Royall’s occupation at the Devil’s Hole. “All those silly tourists clamoring around you. Half the women draping themselves over you and having their pictures taken! And I just know that boat isn’t safe. Going into the Niagara Gorge, it can’t be safe. And it doesn’t even pay that much, to make up for being dangerous.” Candace’s words lifted like the querulous notes of a bird’s cry. The tiny diamond on her left hand winked as Candace moved her hands about in a flurry of emotion, doll-like, prettily. Candace was a very pretty girl, twenty years old, but with the manner and affecta-tions of a fifteen-year-old; her breathy soprano voice, her every gesture communicated prettiness, and an expectation that others respond to this prettiness, as a dancer moves to familiar music.