The Graduate by Charles Webb Page A

around her shoulders, “and I am getting pretty tired of this conversation.”
    “Well how did it happen. How did you get pregnant.”
    “How do you think.”
    “I mean did he take you up to his room with him? Did you go to a hotel?”
    “Benjamin, what does it possibly matter.”
    “I’m curious.”
    “We’d go to his car,” she said.
    “Oh no.”
    “What?”
    “In the car you did it?”
    “I don’t think we were the first.”
    “Well no,” Benjamin said. “But it’s—it’s kind of hard to conceive of you and Mr. Robinson going at it in the car.” He sat down in the chair again and began to smile. “In the car?” he said. “You and him?”
    “Me and him.”
    He shook his head, still smiling. “So that’s where old Elaine—” He looked up. “What kind of car was it.”
    “What?”
    “Do you remember the make of car?”
    “Oh my God.”
    “Really,” Benjamin said. “I want to know.”
    “It was a Ford, Benjamin.”
    “A Ford!” he said, jumping up from the chair. “A Ford!” He laughed aloud. “Goddammit, a Ford! That’s great!”
    “That’s enough.”
    He shook his head and smiled down at the rug. “So old Elaine Robinson got started in a Ford.”
    “Benjamin?”

    The Graduate
    98
    “That’s great.”
    “Benjamin?”
    “What.”
    “Don’t talk about Elaine.”
    He stopped smiling suddenly. “Don’t talk about Elaine?” he said.
    “No.”
    “Why not.”
    “Because I don’t want you to,” she said. She turned around and walked to the bed.
    “Well why don’t you.”
    Mrs. Robinson pulled the bedspread down along the bed and dropped it on the floor.
    “Is there some big secret about her I don’t know?”
    “No.”
    “Then what’s the big mystery.”
    “Take off your clothes,” she said.
    Benjamin frowned and removed his coat. He dropped it behind him onto the chair, then began unbuttoning his shirt.
    “I wish you’d tell me,” he said.
    “There’s nothing to tell.”
    “Well why is she a big taboo subject all of a sudden.”
    Mrs. Robinson uncovered one of the pillows at the head of the bed.
    “Well,” Benjamin said, removing his shirt and dropping it on his coat, “I guess I’ll have to ask her out on a date and find out what’s—”
    Mrs. Robinson straightened up suddenly. She turned around to stare at him. “Benjamin, don’t you ever take that girl out,” she said.
    “What?”
    “Do you understand that.”
    “Well look. I have no intention of taking her out.”
    “Good.”

    The Graduate
    99
    “I was just kidding around.”
    “Good.”
    “But why shouldn’t I.”
    “Because you shouldn’t.”
    “Well why are you getting so upset.”
    “Let’s drop it,” Mrs. Robinson said. She turned back to the bed and uncovered the other pillow.
    “Are you jealous of her?” Benjamin said. “Are you afraid she might steal me away from you?”
    “No.”
    “Well then what.”
    She shook her head.
    “Mrs. Robinson,” Benjamin said, taking a step toward her, “I want to know why you feel so strongly about this.”
    “I have my reasons.”
    “Then let’s hear them.”
    “No.”
    “Let’s hear your reasons, Mrs. Robinson. Because I think I know what they are.”
    She reached down to pull the covers part way back.
    “Your daughter shouldn’t associate with the likes of me, should she.”
    “Benjamin.”
    “I’m not good enough for her to associate with, am I. I’m not good enough to even talk about her, am I.”
    “Let’s drop it.”
    “We’re not dropping it, Mrs. Robinson,” he said, walking across the room. “Now that’s the reason, isn’t it. I’m a dirty degenerate, aren’t I.
    I’m not fit to—”
    “Benjamin?”
    He took her arm and pulled her around to face him. “I’m good enough for you but I’m too slimy to associate with your daughter. That’s it, isn’t it.”

    The Graduate
    100
    She nodded.
    “Isn’t it!”
    “Yes.”
    He stood a moment longer holding her arm, then pushed her down on the bed.