Myra-Breckinridge-Gore-Vidal

surgical table, making the greatest effort to calm myself, toput it all down not only for its own sake but also for you,Randolph, who never dreamed that anyone could ever actout totally his fantasies and survive. Certainly your ownguilty longing to kill the nerve in each of Lyndon Johnson'stwenty-odd teeth without the use of anesthetic can never inthis life be achieved, and so your dreams must feed uponpale surrogates while mine have been made reality. Shortlyafter ten, Rusty arrived. He wore the usual checked shirtwith two buttons missing and no T-shirt, as well as chinotrousers and highly polished cowboy boots. He lookedabout the infirmary curiously. "I never been in here before.""That explains why there's no physical record of you. "Neverbeen sick a day in my life." Oh, he was proud! No doubt ofthat. "But even so, the Academy requires a record. It's oneof Uncle Buck's rules." "Yeah. I know. And I've beenmeaning to drop in sometime and see the Doe." "Perhapsthat won't be necessary." I placed the physical examinationchart squarely in the middle of the surgical table. "Sitdown." I was pleasant. He sat in a chair so close to minethat our knees touched. Quickly he swung his legs wide sothat my knees were now between his and there was nopossibility of further contact. It was plain that in no way do Iattract him. We chatted a moment about Mary-Ann, andabout Letitia's interest in her career. I could see that Rustywas both pleased and envious, a normal reaction. Then,delicately, I got around to the subject of Mexico; he becamevisibly nervous. Finally, I told him that I knew what hadhappened. "You won't tell Mary.-Ann, will you?" That was his