MUncie6

Well, if the two weeks aren't to be a total loss, Wellington Frobisher thought to himself, I suppose one must make an effort. Home in Muncie, Indiana, on Christmas vacation from Harvard, Wellington was finding things a frightful bore. Funny, he never noticed how drab the local environs were before he went away to Harvard, but now they were unbearable. Nobody knew or cared about the New Frontier, or Existentialism, or anything.

Still, Wellington supposed, I guess I must arrange with one of the local flora for something to do on Christmas Eve. There seemed to be a general whirl of activity that evening, and Wellington did feel rather a yen for social contact. Indeed, Wellington joked to himself, it was about time he got some of that good old social contact in there. He cast about among the girls he remembered, and settled on Eugenie Schwartz as the one least offensive to his tastes. Eugenie always could hold up her end of a conversation, Wellington recalled, and he was about to remark to himself that she could also hold up her end of a formal, but he caught himself just in time.

"Hello?" said the voice on the other end.

"Hello, Eugenie? It's me, Wellington. I'm just back from Harvard for the vacation, and, uh, I see it snowed here, you should see how much snow we have in Boston, it stopped the subways and everything. What I called about was this: would you like to do something Christmas Eve?"

"This is Eugenie's mother. Calm down, Wellington."

"Oh. I didn't recognize your voice, Mrs. Schwartz. Is Eugenie there?"

"Yeah. Do you always call people at 10 at night, Wellington?"

"Oh. I'm sorry, Mrs. Schwartz. You see, at Harvard we're up till all hours of the night in bull sessions. I guess I've lost my sense of time."

"You should sleep more, Wellington. It's not good to stay up so late. It's the hours of sleep before midnight that do you the most good."

"I guess you're right, Mrs. Schwartz."

"Well, I'll let you talk to Eugenie this time, Wellington, but try to call at a more respectable hour in the future, willya?"

Still the same old bitch, Wellington thought to himself, but he was unable to pursue this line of argument any further as Eugenie came to the phone.

"Hello?"

"Eugenie? This is Wellington. How are you?"

"Super."

"How's everything going at school?"

"Fabulous."

"Well, that's fine. What's new around town?"

"Oh, lots. Janice is going steadily with Ralph.

Jo Ann is pinned to Al, and Donna and Joe broke up."

"Uh huh. Well, what I wanted to ask you is: are you doing anything Christmas Eve?"

"Who wants to know?"

"Well, I do."

"Well, maybe I am and maybe I'm not."

"What kind of an answer is that?"

"What kind of a question is 'Are you doing anything Christmas Eve?"

"Oh, for God's sake. Would you like to go out with me Christmas Eve?"

"Wait a minute, I'll have to check. What date is that?"

"Decem...Oh, forget it."

"Well, for heaven's sake. I ask a simple question, and you blow your top. Sure, Harvard man, just call up in the middle of the night and expect me to have everything right at my finger tips."

"I'm sorry, Eugenie. It's the 24th. There's a new Bergman movie coming to the Roxy, and I thought maybe we could go there."

"Ooooooo, fantastic. I just love her. Did you see The Inn of the Sixth Happiness? Wasn't it marvelous? I cried and cried and ..."

"Not that Bergman, Eugenie. Ingmar Bergman, the director. The name of the movie is The Magician, and it's a very fine show. It's very metaphysical and allegorical, and it has excellent photography."

"Sounds drippy. Let's go to Annie's party instead.

Everyone's going to be there."

"Oh, all right. I'll pick you up at eight."

* * *

The party was rather frightening, Wellington thought. But Eugenie most definitely was not. Wellington tried hard not to stare at her well-filled sweater, and essayed to remain calm as she rested her head on his shoulder. Her casual chatter still lacked something:

"Reading Period? What's that?" she asked.

"They give people in upperclass courses two weeks to catch up before exams-there aren't any classes or sections."

"I don't think that's fair at all. We have our exams, too, but nobody gives us a two-week vacation to study for them."

Still, when they danced, it was a delight to hold Eugenie, and later, she gave him a devastating good-night kiss. As Wellington watched the shapely form disappear behind the closing door, he reflected on the vagaries of life. "I suppose one must learn to compromise," he mused. As he stood there thinking, his hands unconsciously made the sign of an hour-glass. Wellington started at the airy figure he had drawn, shrugged his shoulders, and went home.