Who Composed Your Beauties

(Going into tenth grade, Holden has to do an art and a language. Or, he can pick whether to stay in academics or go vocational. If he goes vocation he doesn’t have to do an art or language. He’ll effectively drop out. He wouldn’t get a high school diploma, but he’ll have an apprenticeship.

And he’s behind in all his classes. He talks to Bill about it because he doesn’t talk to the counsellors about it. They think he’s dumb, who cares. He doesn’t talk to Miss Wong about it. He’s behind in math and if he wants to stay on course he has to do summer school. So he’s thinking about welding. He’s been doing it in shop class and he’s good at it.)

“Mr. Moretti says I’m good at it because I’m focused and I take it seriously. And he says there’s good money in welding. I could work in Norfolk, do welding for the Navy.”

“Why not just join the Navy?” asked Bill.

“I don’t want to join the Navy,” Holden huffed. “I want to be a welder.”

“I’m just saying, you could be a welder in the Navy.”

Holden folded his napkin neatly and placed it on his lap. “I don’t think I would do very well cooped up on a ship. I would probably get myself killed because I’d annoy everyone.”

Bill frowned. “Well, I’d never dissuade anyone from honest work, and welding’s as honest as anything else. But I don’t think that’s a reason to drop out of high school.”

“But what’s the point?” Holden looked up at him, eyes big, mouth turned down. “My grades aren’t good enough to get me a scholarship. They might not even be good enough to get me into college. And even if they were, I’d probably just fail because I couldn’t handle it.”

Bill scowled. “What are you talking about?”

Holden picked up his spoon and pushed ice cream around the bowl. “I can’t open my mouth in class without someone making fun of me, or getting pissed off. I can’t even pass my stupid driving test.” His shoulders hunched up, and his voice shook a little. “Mr. Moretti thinks I could get a good job as a welder. No one’s ever said something like that about me before.”

Bill scoffed. “I think you could do just fine at college. And hell, Nancy thinks you hung the damn moon.”

“No offence Bill, but you and Nancy don’t know me very well.” Holden kept pushing his spoon around.

Bill leaned back and crossed his arms. “Fine, Holden. Like I said, honest work is honest work. I think welding is a great choice, if it’s really what you want to do. But tell me this. How long do you think you can do it for?”

Holden looked up at him, brow furrowed. “What does that mean?”

“I mean it’s hard work, physically. You don’t think your back or knees will start to go? How long do you think you can weld for? Until your thirties? Your forties?” Bill lit a cigarette. “What I’m asking is, have you ever met an old welder?”

Holden looked thoughtful. “I guess… if I took care of myself, I think I could do it until my forties.”

“Okay. So you’re forty. And your back and knees are shit, and you can’t work anymore. And who knows what the world looks like by then. There might not even be a United States for all we know.”

“Maybe I’ll be dead by then,” Holden mumbled.

Jesus Christ, thought Bill. You are not scaring me off that easily, kid. “You might be,” he said. “But let’s plan for a world where you’re not. You’re alive, and forty, and you can’t work, and the Soviet Union has taken over. And they say, from each according to their abilities, and what exactly are your abilities?”

Holden’s brow furrowed, and he looked away, and his lips moved, like he’d just heard some life-changing prophecy. From each according to his abilities, he seemed to say to himself.

“Well?” prodded Bill.

Holden’s attention snapped back. “I don’t know, Bill. I don’t know what my abilities ar— would be in this hypothetical Soviet takeover you’re imagining.” He pouted and stared down at his plate. “I guess I could teach welding.”

“Oh yeah? Where?”

Holden still wouldn’t look at him. “A community college,” he said quietly. “Or a high school.”

“Well, you’d need a teaching certificate for that,” said Bill.

“So?”

“So that means college.”

Holden shook his head. “Then I’d go to college then. I’ll have saved up some money.”

“You need a high school diploma for that.”

“Then I’ll get my GED.”

“When you’re forty.”

Holden scowled. “What’s wrong with that?”

Bill shrugged. “It’s harder to learn when you’re older. That’s why kids go to school, and not adults.”

“And it’s why so many adults are such assholes,” Holden muttered under his breath, staring at his plate.

Bill snorted.

“If I get good enough at welding, I could get a master qualification and have apprentices,” said Holden. “Then I could keep teaching them.”

“Sure, apprentices.” Bill ashed his cigarette. “That means you’d be running your own business, and you’d need clerical and administrative skills for that.”

“I thought we were Communists in this scenario.”

Bill snorted again. “It’s just not one scenario. Reagan could somehow become President, and you’ll end up in a libertarian nightmare where your entire life is one giant business transaction.”

Holden was pouting again. “People run their own businesses without being educated. It happens all the time.”

“Yeah, fair enough,” Bill conceded. “The American dream, it’s a wonderful thing. But Holden, you have to imagine it would be easier with a high school diploma under your belt.”

Holden’s shoulders went up. He kept staring at his plate, and his breath was coming faster. “There’s a nursing aide course. I could do that instead.”

Bill leaned back. “What?”

“It’s the same thing, I wouldn’t have to graduate,” Holden said hurriedly. “Then I could start working next year and save money, and then finish high school later on and go to nursing school.”

“Do you… want to be a nurse?” asked Bill.

Holden shrugged, his head still bowed. “Nancy liked it,” he said, his voice shaky. “And I think it would be less, like, physically demanding.”

Bill took a long drag. “Nancy liked it because she’s very nurturing. That’s her natural ability. Is it yours?”

Holden didn’t answer. 

“And I’m not sure about the physically demanding part,” said Bill. “You should check with her about that. She certainly complained about her back often enough.”

“Do you think men shouldn’t be nurses, Bill?”

Bill laughed. “Kid, at my age, I can’t tell you how many times I wished the nurse in the room wasn’t a pretty young woman. So, no, I don’t give a shit about men being nurses.” He took another long drag off his cigarette and regarded Holden. “What’s this about, Holden? You went from not finishing high school to finishing it in a few years. It sounds like you want to finish it, so what’s the problem? I know summer school sucks, but it’s only the mornings, and you always get up early, anyway.”

Holden was hugging himself, and making himself very small. Bill realized he was trembling.

“Hey. What’s wrong?”

Holden took a shaky breath. “I just… I wanted to work this summer.”

“You can still work a little. And we’ll give you pocket money.”

Holden shook his head. “I need money to move out next year, and I don’t think I’ll be able to finish high school on my own. I just thought it would be better if I was done before I moved out.”

(Holden cries. Bill tries to comfort him)

“You don't want me to stay,” sniffled Holden. “I fucked up.”

"Well, yeah," said Bill, weakly. "But you're sixteen. It happens. Holden, I took you out for ice cream. Is it not obvious that I forgive you?"

"No," Holden whined.

"Well… why not?"

Holden averted his gaze. His voice was very quiet. "Because you never said it."

“Holden,” Bill said, gently. “Do you always assume the worst?”

Holden wiped at his eyes. “Yeah. Don’t you? All that— ‘when you’re forty and you can’t work anymore.’ That’s assuming the worst.”

Bill was quiet for a while. “I plan for the worst. It’s a little different.” He thought of Nancy and her secret medications. He wasn’t even that good at planning for the worst, evidently.