Beekman Astir
Mr. Rueben looked up from a stack of manila papers at the sound of a light knock.
“Yes?” He asked, head turning slowly to the door while his eyes remained on paper he was reading.
“It is Claire.” Said she.
“Oh, come in my niece.” He said taking one long step from behind his desk to the door which he opened politely.
“Please take a seat and a piece of chewing gum.” Mr. Rueben said suavely pointing to a chair.
He then walked over to his desk and retrieved a jar.
Claire dragged the petite wooden chair from one of the student’s desks and sat in it directly in front of Mr. Rueben’s desk.
“Oh, I can’t chew gum.” Said Claire, lustfully eyeing the sticks of peppermint flavored rubber.
Her eyes traveled up to Mr. Rueben’s face which looked confused and was moving up and down with the motion of his own chewing.
“No? Why not?” He asked, straightening up.
“Because my mother says that it is unhealthy.” Claire said, almost as if she were trying to convince herself.
“How so?”
“It will make my intestines stick together.” Claire said immediately before turning pink.
“It will do what? That’s ridiculous. The innocent little piece of candy never leaves your mouth!” Mr. Rueben laughed.
“But if you swallow it I mean…” Claire said, rather embarrassed.
“But are you going to do that?” Mr. Rueben asked.
“No…not on purpose. I mean, not at all since I won’t chew it.” Claire answered, eyes traveling from Mr. Rueben to the jar and back all the time.
“But that’s silly. It isn’t at all true that it will make your intestines stick together.” Mr. Rueben said, looking around for the lid to the jar.
“I’ll have one, thank you.” Claire said suddenly.
“What?” Was the bewildered response.
“I will have a stick of gum please.” Claire said firmly (though she knew it was odd and was avoiding eye contact because of it.)
“What did I say that made you change your mind?” Mr. Rueben asked as he pulled out a sweet-smelling stick.
“That it wasn’t true of course. I don’t stand for things that aren’t true.” Claire said coolly taking the gum and acting as if this were obvious information. This was a bad habit of hers, making something she said seem like “elementary knowledge” when it was really very uncanny. When she did this, Pete always mumbled something about women and how he couldn’t stand them.
“Alright then,” Said Mr. Rueben as he watched Claire pop the gum into her mouth. “But didn’t you say that you weren’t allowed to chew gum?”
Claire looked a little uneasy, but the first taste of gum hadn’t disappointed her and this soothed her mind.
“No…” She began, slurring a bit between chews. “Because Mother wouldn’t tell me things unless she thought it was best for me…and she did think that, but she wouldn’t have told me if she had known the truth.” She then looked at her finger tips, the floor, and the desk and everywhere but Mr. Rueben’s face before he spoke again.
“You don’t have to sit like that.” He said, going to his seat.
“Like what?” Asked Claire, uncrossing her feet.
“Like you are going to be scolded.” Mr. Rueben said, making a wave toward her whole appearance.
Claire didn’t know quite what to do, but in the end her chair was off center and looked much more natural.
“You know,” Mr. Rueben then said. “I just realized that you haven’t put cards on the tree.”
Claire glanced toward the twisted dead tree against the wall and remembered when she had first seen it and what Miss Inches had said:
“Mr. Rueben has his pupils write down all of their accomplishments and put it on that tree.”
“Oh,” Claire said, rubbing the back of her neck as if it were sore.
“Go ahead,” Mr. Rueben said pulling out from his desk drawer small white cards and envelopes which matched the “leaves” of the tree. “Write down some of your many accomplishments.
Claire took the cards and admired them.
“But I don’t know of anything to write.” She said, almost sadly.
“What? You must be joking.” Mr. Rueben said with a laugh. “There are cards up there that say everything from ‘Finished a book’ to ‘Learned to fish’ to ‘Forgave a friend’ or what not.”
Claire swallowed loudly and made a miserable looking smile.
“All I’ve done is…caused problems.” She blurted out, eyes fixed on the note cards in her hands.
“What are you talking about? If that’s true then I wouldn’t be surprised if, if your intestines were all stuck together.” Mr. Rueben said.
Claire smiled a bit more naturally.
“I have lost my reputation. My parents are going to see my report and know that I have made a mistake. They will call the school and Miss Victory will tell them about my running away from school in the worst possible way. Then my parents will come down here themselves and scold me silly and I’ll have some sort of punishment. But no punishment will be worse than seeing my parents disappointed faces.” And with these last words, Claire’s throat began to burn and she stopped talking all together because she knew that if she went on she would surely cry. And already, how many times had she cried since she arrived in New York? Too many to count.
“It is November first,” Mr. Rueben said. “Just over two months since you and the other freshmen arrived. But today is a new beginning.” He paused for sometime as Claire sat staring at his desk, her face splotched with red.
“Did you mean to disappoint your parents?” He then asked, very softly like an uncle should.
Claire shook her head vigorously.
“Of course not.” She squeaked.
“Tell me exactly what happened.” He then said.
Claire’s first thought was that this would be a long and painful story, but as she began, she felt more and more relieved to have a listening ear. She hadn’t talked to Trudy; all she wanted was to hear “juicy secrets” as Judith called them. And Claire had none of these to offer. She had wished for someone to listen without judging her or trying to be entertained…just to listen as Mr. Rueben was so intently doing from his desk.
Ever so often Mr. Rueben would ask a question very gently, but mostly he just pulled his dark eyebrows over his eyes and put his chin in his fist and listened.
“And I just wanted to get rid of the mouse,” Claire was explaining. “I liked Cyrano, but it was wrong to keep him and I wanted to show the girls that I wasn’t afraid to do what was right and to give up what was wrong. It was just a little mouse, I know, but he was sort of a symbol. I thought that the girls would…turn around when they knew what I had done for them, but they didn’t. They just wanted to know if Emit was my beau and if I was going to be expelled. I think that everyone would be better off if I was.”
And just when Claire was explaining how much she loved her parents and her brother and that she really was trying to make them proud, the bell rang.
“Is that half-time?” Claire asked, mid-sentence.
Half-time was thirty minutes into recess when the students were allowed drinks.
“No,” Mr. Rueben said. “The bell doesn’t ring at half-time. Recess is over.”
Claire’s jaw dropped and she slid out of her seat which she had been wadded up in.
“An hour already?” She said unbelievingly.
She scooted her chair back to its desk and hurriedly spat her gum into the waste basket.
Mr. Rueben scurried from his desk and opened the door for her.
Claire slid out with her things but then stopped halfway and put a hand on the door so that Mr. Rueben wouldn’t shut it yet.
“Mr. Rueben,” She said slowly. “What did you want to talk about?”
Mr. Rueben smiled.
“All of the things that we did talk about Dearest.” He said.
For a moment, Claire felt as if he meant that he had known beforehand what she would say, for sometimes Mr. Rueben did seem like some sort of magic man like the Indian men with turbans and monkeys in books, but then she realized with a smile that Mr. Rueben just wanted to talk to her about all of the things that she needed to talk about.
“Good afternoon Claire.” Mr. Rueben said.
“Good afternoon Uncle.”
