Charles Webb

The Graduate

Benjamin Braddock has graduated from a college in the East of the USA. On the evening after his return, a party is given for him by his wealthy parents. He tries to escape from the guests’ approving and congratulating comments.

Benjamin opened the door leading into the living room. He walked through the room keeping his eyes ahead of him on the carpet until Mrs. Calendar took his elbow. “Ben?” she said. “I just think it’s too terrific for words.”
He walked past her and into the hall. Just as he got to the foot of the stairs his father came up behind him. “Leave me alone.” “Ben, for God’s sake what is it.” “I don’t know what it is.” “Come here,” Mr. Braddock said. He took his arm and led him down the hall and into a bedroom. “Son?” he said closing the door and locking it. “Now what is it?” “I don’t know.” “Well something seems pretty wrong.” “Something is.” “Well what?” ‘I don’t know!” Benjamin said. “But everything — everything is grotesque all of a sudden.” “Grotesque?” “Those people in there are grotesque. You’re grotesque.” “Ben.” “I’m grotesque. This house is grotesque. It’s just this feeling I have all of a sudden. And I don’t know why!” […] “But I’ve got to be alone. I’ve got to think until I know what’s happening to me.” […]
As a birthday present, Benjamin receives diving equipment from his parents. In the presence of their neighbors, Mr. Braddock makes Benjamin test it in their swimming pool.

“Now ladies and gentlemen? The boy is going to perform spectacular and amazing feats of skill and daring under water.” Mr. Arnold laughed. “Get your pennies ready, folks.” “Are you ready, boy?” Mr. Braddock said. “All right then. On with the show!” “On with the show!” the Arnold children yelled, jumping up and down “On with the show! On with the show!” Mrs. Arnold stood up and took their hands and then it was suddenly perfectly quiet in the yard. Benjamin cleared his throat. He walked slowly toward the edge of the pool, keeping his chin down against his chest so he could see where he was going through the mask, but before he reached the water one of his flippers got caught under his foot and he nearly pitched forward onto his face. The children began to laugh again and leap up and down. “Oh no,” Mrs. Arnold said. “That wasn’t funny.” [...] Benjamin placed his foot down onto the top step at the shallow end of the pool, then walked slowly down the steps to the pool’s floor. “Wait a minute,” his father said, he hurried to the edge of the pool with the spear. Benjamin stared at him a moment through the glass, then grabbed the spear away from him, turned around and began walking slowly down the slope of the pool toward the deep end. The water rose up around his black suit to the level of his chest. Then to his neck. Just as the water level was at his chin the flippers began scraping against the bottom of the pool. He let all his breath out and tried to force himself under but the air tank kept him afloat. He began thrashing with his arms but his head would not go under. The Arnold children began to laugh. [...] Benjamin pulled the mask partially away from his face, “The show’s over,” he said quietly. “What’s wrong?” “He needs a weight!” Mr. Arnold called. “That’ll get him under. If you had a big rock it would do it.” “Right,” Mr. Braddock said. He straightened up. “Folks?” he said. “There will be a brief intermission. Hang on to your seats.” He hurried past the pool and through a gate into the rear part of the yard, where the incinerator was. [...] When Mr. Braddock returned he was carrying a large piece of concrete used to keep the lid of the incinerator closed. Benjamin took it from him and walked slowly back toward the deep end. Some of the guests began laughing and applauding as his head went under and then it was perfectly quiet beneath the water as he walked gradually down to the very bottom of the pool. He stood a moment looking at a wall of the pool, then sat down. Finally he eased himself down onto his side and balanced the heavy piece of concrete on his hip. Then he turned his head to look up at the shiny silver surface of the pool above, “Dad?” he said quietly into his mask.

In the morning Benjamin got up earlier than usual. He dressed himself in a pair of khaki pants and an old jacket he had bought in the East at an army surplus store, and went downstairs. Mrs. Braddock was in the kitchen. “You’re up early,” she said. Benjamin walked past her and sat down at the table in front of his grapefruit. “I’m leaving home,” he said. “What?” “I said I’m leaving home,” he said, picking up his spoon. “I’m clearing out after breakfast.” Mrs. Braddock reached up to wipe her hands on a towel beside the sink. “You’re going away?” she said. “That’s right.” She frowned and walked across the room to sit down beside him at the table. “You’re taking a trip?” she said. “That is right,” Benjamin said. He dug into the grapefruit. “Well where are you going,” she said. “I don’t know.” “You don’t know where you’re going?” “No.” She sat a moment looking at him. “I don’t understand what you mean,” she said. “If you want the cliché,” Benjamin said, looking up from his grapefruit. “I’m going on the road.” “What?” “On the road. I believe that’s the conventional terminology.” “Well Ben,” his mother said. “What.” “I still don’t understand this. You aren’t just planning to throw your things in the car and leave, I hope.” “No.” “Then what?” “I’m hitchhiking.” “What?” “Mother, you haven’t been on the road much, have you?” Mrs. Braddock began shaking her head. “Don’t get excited, Mother. I’ll be all right.” “You mean you’re just going to pack your bag and go?” “I’m not taking any luggage.” “What?” “I’m taking what I have on.” “Are you serious?” “Yes.” “Well how much money are you taking?” “Ten dollars.” “Oh,” she said. “Then you won’t be gone more than a day or two.” Benjamin raised a section of grapefruit to his mouth. “How long will you be gone?” his mother said. “I don’t know.” “More than a day or two?” “Yes.” “But not more than a week.” “Look,” Benjamin said. “Maybe five years, maybe ten. I don’t know.” “What?”

(1963)