East of Eden by John Steinbeck

2

On May 28, 1918, American troops carried out their first important assignment of World War I. The First Division, General Bullard commanding, was ordered to capture the village of Cantigny. The village, on high ground, dominated the Avre River valley. It was de­fended by trenches, heavy machine guns, and artillery. The front was a little over a mile wide.

At 6:45 A.M., May 28, 1918, the attack was begun after one hour of artillery preparation. Troops involved were the 28th Infantry (Col. Ely), one battalion of the 18th Infantry (Parker), a company of the First Engi­neers, the divisional artillery (Summerall), and a sup­port of French tanks and flame throwers.

The attack was a complete success. American troops entrenched on the new line and repulsed two powerful German counterattacks.

The First Division received the congratulations of Clemenceau, Foch, and Pétain.

3

It was the end of May before the Silacci boys brought the news that the salmon-pink blossoms of the azaleas were breaking free. It was on a Wednesday, as the nine o’clock bell was ringing, that they told him.

Cal rushed to the English classroom, and just as Miss Norris took her seat on the little stage he waved his handkerchief and blew his nose loudly. Then he went down to the boys’ toilet and waited until he heard through the wall the flush of water on the girlside. He went out through the basement door, walked close to the red brick wall, slipped around the pepper tree, and, once out of sight of the school, walked slowly along until Abra caught up with him.

“When’d they come out?” she asked.

“This morning.”

“Shall we wait till tomorrow?”

He looked up at the gay yellow sun, the first earth-warming sun of the year. “Do you want to wait?”

“No,” she said.

“Neither do I.”

They broke into a run—bought bread at Reynaud’s and joggled Lee into action.

Adam heard loud voices and looked into the kitchen. “What’s the hullabaloo?” he asked.

“We’re going on a picnic,” said Cal.

“Isn’t it a school day?”

Abra said, “Sure it is. But it’s a holiday too.”

Adam smiled at her. “You’re pink as a rose,” he said.

Abra cried, “Why don’t you come along with us? We’re going to the Alisal to get azaleas.”

“Why, I’d like to,” Adam said, and then, “No, I can’t. I promised to go down to the ice plant. We’re putting in some new tubing. It’s a beautiful day.”

“We’ll bring you some azaleas,” Abra said.

“I like them. Well, have a good time.”

When he was gone Cal said, “Lee, why don’t you come with us?”

Lee looked sharply at him. “I hadn’t thought you were a fool,” he said.

“Come on!” Abra cried.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” said Lee.

4

It’s a pleasant little stream that gurgles through the Alisal against the Gabilan Mountains on the east of the Salinas Valley. The water bumbles over round stones and washes the polished roots of the trees that hold it in.

The smell of azaleas and the sleepy smell of sun working with chlorophyll filled the air. On the bank the Ford car sat, still breathing softly from its overheating. The back seat was piled with azalea branches.

Cal and Abra sat on the bank among the luncheon papers. They dangled their feet in the water.

“They always wilt before you get them home,” said Cal.

“But they’re such a good excuse, Cal,” she said. “If you won’t I guess I’ll have to—”

“What?”

She reached over and took his hand. “That,” she said.

“I was afraid to.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know.”

“I wasn’t.”

“I guess girls aren’t afraid of near as many things.”

“I guess not.”

“Are you ever afraid?”

“Sure,” she said. “I was afraid of you after you said I wet my pants.”

“That was mean,” he said. “I wonder why I did it,” and suddenly he was silent.

Her fingers tightened around his hand. “I know what you’re thinking. I don’t want you to think about that.”

Cal looked at the curling water and turned a round brown stone with his toe.

Abra said, “You think you’ve got it all, don’t you? You think you attract bad things—”

“Well—”

“Well, I’m going to tell you something. My father’s in trouble.”

“How in trouble?”

“I haven’t been listening at doors but I’ve heard enough. He’s not sick. He’s scared. He’s done some­thing.”

He turned his head. “What?”

“I think he’s taken some money from his company. He doesn’t know whether his partners are going to put him in jail or let him try to pay it back.”

“How do you know?”

“I heard them shouting in his bedroom where he’s sick. And my mother started the phonograph to drown them out.”

He said, “You aren’t making it up?”

“No. I’m not making it up.”

He shuffled near and put his head against her shoul­der and his arm crept timidly around her waist.

“You see, you’re not the only one—” She looked sideways at his face. “Now I’m afraid,” she said weakly.

5

At three o’clock in the afternoon Lee was sitting at his desk, turning over the pages of a seed catalogue. The pictures of sweet peas were in color.

“Now these would look nice on the back fence. They’d screen off the slough. I wonder if there’s enough sun.” He looked up at the sound of his own voice and smiled to himself. More and more he caught himself speaking aloud when the house was empty.

“It’s age,” he said aloud. “The slowing thoughts and—” He stopped and grew rigid for a moment. “That’s funny—listening for something. I wonder whether I left the teakettle on the gas. No—I remem­ber.” He listened again. “Thank heaven I’m not super­stitious. I could hear ghosts walk if I’d let myself. I could—”

The front doorbell rang.

“There it is. That’s what I was listening for. Let it ring. I’m not going to be led around by feelings. Let it ring.”

But it did not ring again.

A black weariness fell on Lee, a hopelessness that pressed his shoulders down. He laughed at himself. “I can go and find it’s an advertisement under the door or I can sit here and let my silly old mind tell me death is on the doorstep. Well, I want the advertisement.”

Lee sat in the living room and looked at the enve­lope in his lap. And suddenly he spat at it. “All right,” he said. “I’m coming—goddam you,” and he ripped it open and in a moment laid it on the table and turned it over with the message down.

He stared between his knees at the floor. “No,” he said, “that’s not my right. Nobody has the right to remove any single experience from another. Life and death are promised. We have a right to pain.”

His stomach contracted. “I haven’t got the courage. I’m a cowardly yellow belly. I couldn’t stand it.”

He went into the bathroom and measured three teaspoons of elixir of bromide into a glass and added water until the red medicine was pink. He carried the glass to the living room and put it on the table. He folded the telegram and shoved it in his pocket. He said aloud, “I hate a coward! God, how I hate a coward!” His hands were shaking and a cold perspiration damp­ened his forehead.

At four o’clock he heard Adam fumbling at the doorknob. Lee licked his lips. He stood up and walked slowly to the hall. He carried the glass of pink fluid and his hand was steady.

Chapter 55

1

All of the lights were on in the Trask house. The door stood partly open, and the house was cold. In the sit­ting room Lee was shriveled up like a leaf in the chair beside the lamp. Adam’s door was open and the sound of voices came from his room.

When Cal came in he asked, “What’s going on?”

Lee looked at him and swung his head toward the table where the open telegram lay. “Your brother is dead,” he said. “Your father has had a stroke.”

Cal started down the hall.

Lee said, “Come back. Dr. Edwards and Dr. Mur­phy are in there. Let them alone.”

Cal stood in front of him. “How bad? How bad, Lee, how bad?”

“I don’t know.” He spoke as though recalling an ancient thing. “He came home tired. But I had to read him the telegram. That was his right. For about five minutes he said it over and over to himself out loud. And then it seemed to get through into his brain and to explode there.”

“Is he conscious?”

Lee said wearily, “Sit down and wait, Cal. Sit down and wait. Get used to it. I’m trying to.”

Cal picked up the telegram and read its bleak and dignified announcement.

Dr. Edwards came out, carrying his bag. He nodded curtly, went out, and closed the door smartly behind him.