Saturday

Saturday structures the Unnamed protagonist’s recollections as both a weekly routine and a promise repeatedly made and broken. Its afternoons bring him to the movies with Mary; its nights may bring him to her house while she babysits. He plans and longs for these encounters throughout the week, yet even a Saturday that proceeds as hoped leaves something unsettled. Sunday follows with a weight he cannot breathe away, and the cycle begins again.

The Weekly Pattern

The day gathers importance through repetition. The Unnamed protagonist looks forward to Saturdays from Sunday morning onward, carrying the expectation through classes and the intervening weekdays. The prospect of seeing Mary shapes how he experiences the week: Saturday is not merely free time but the anticipated point toward which his plans and attention turn.

The routine is vulnerable to interruption. Sometimes Mary cannot go to the movies or does not babysit, and the Unnamed protagonist worries that a change of plan will spoil the day. He especially dislikes learning at the last minute that she will not be babysitting, because he may already have arranged to leave his friends without explaining where he is going. He considers meeting her in the park if the house is unavailable, but prefers the privacy of the house. The possibility of disruption makes a successful Saturday feel conditional rather than secure.

Saturday Afternoon at the Movies

On Saturday afternoons, the Unnamed protagonist meets Mary at a corner and they go to the same theater. The film itself is almost incidental: he does not check what is playing or whether he might enjoy it. He anticipates the meeting so intensely that, as morning passes, his stomach tightens and he grows increasingly restless. He wears the same blue corduroy pants, which he regards as lucky and practical for sitting; he also inspects them in the bathroom afterward and washes off any visible stains before they stiffen.

One Saturday marked 11/30, his mother gives him a quarter for the movie. She asks what he will see, accepts that he does not know, wishes him a good time, and tells him to be home for dinner. He walks rapidly toward the theater, then slows as he nears it in case Mary is already waiting. She is not: she usually arrives about ten minutes after him, wearing a long pink jacket. While he waits, he looks at the theater’s stills without much interest in the films, then leans against the building until she arrives. They join the other children in line, take seats along the far right side, and arrange her jacket across their laps as the lights go down.

The theater’s darkness allows the pair to conceal their activity beneath the jacket while keeping their attention apparently fixed on the screen. Their heads remain still and their eyes face the images as the Unnamed protagonist gradually touches Mary under her clothing. Mary adjusts the jacket to keep herself covered. The scene’s deliberate progression—waiting for the lights, settling into their seats, and moving slowly under the cover—makes the movie outing a repeated private arrangement rather than an occasion centered on the movie.

Saturday Night with Mary

The evening encounter takes place when Mary babysits on Saturday nights. After the people she is watching have gone, the Unnamed protagonist joins her, and they sit together on the couch. They are hesitant about using the bed and unsure what else to do, but the account describes sexual contact that he initiates and directs. At intervals he makes Mary perform oral sex, including by standing and making her kneel. The encounters can continue for hours, with the same acts recurring rather than developing into a different kind of intimacy.

The routine also includes a practical concealment: before the people return, the Unnamed protagonist washes his hands and leaves. On his way home, he fears that his mother may smell his hand. In his later recollection, the smell of soap from a movie theater bathroom becomes associated with the effort to wash away traces of sexual contact. Saturday’s separate settings—the public theater and the house where Mary babysits—are thus joined by secrecy and the bodily evidence he tries to remove.

After one Saturday has gone well so far, he sits in his room waiting for his mother to call him to dinner. He is somewhat more relaxed, but still puzzled and discontented. He expects to go out after dinner, spend time with his friends, and then find a way to leave them without revealing that he intends to see Mary again. The evening remains subject to the same uncertain condition as the afternoon: he hopes nothing will prevent the people from going out and Mary from babysitting. He regards the house as better than the park because it gives him a view of her body and the actions he anticipates.

Sunday and the Return of the Cycle

Saturday’s anticipated pleasure does not carry over into Sunday. The following morning brings an oppressive weight on the Unnamed protagonist’s chest and a gnawing discomfort. He tries to relieve it by breathing more deeply, but each breath seems only just short of providing relief. The day appears gray and heavy, and his mother asks whether he will go to church with her. He refuses, then leaves the house to meet his friends and pass the day with them.

The weekly sequence returns without resolution: school occupies Monday through Friday, Saturday offers another chance to see Mary, and Sunday follows again. Even when nothing has gone wrong on Saturday, the Unnamed protagonist remains dissatisfied; the successful day has not removed the sense that something is missing. Saturday’s significance lies in that contrast. It is the week’s intensely anticipated interval, organized around repeated encounters, but its brief satisfactions cannot prevent the grayness that resumes afterward.