THE
MAGNIFYING GLASS
565
house-they have remained so clear in my mind that I could draw
a map of their situation on the grassy clearing. I knew the exact
location of the croquet lawn and the sun-baked blistered steps leading
from the boathouse to the lake; I could smell again the fungus in
the damp forest and see the pictures we used to etch on their rotting
surfaces. But, most sharply, I remember the night of "theatricals"
in Grandfather's house.
It was discussed and planned for weeks ahead and secretly re–
hearsed in the boathouse. All the children (numerous cousins and
school friends) were to take part in it. The "grownups" were to be
our audience, but Aunt Teresa, who ran a theater school in New
York, was our director. She was a squat, brown, ugly woman who
flaunted her homeliness with good humor, wearing dangling earrings
and batik blouses like a gypsy fortune-teller. Her enthusiasm was infec–
tious, and as I dressed for the performance, I am sure my heart
beat just as wildly as any prima donna's on opening night. I have
forgotten the play (which we wrote ourselves), but I remember that
I had the role of a bride and my brother's tutor, a tall, blond, mus–
cular "older man" of about twenty was to be the groom. Until now,
I had paid little attention to Dick Reeves, but tonight when I looked
at him in his formal blue suit, his unruly hair dark and slick with
water, his sunburned face polished with cleanliness, I was able to im–
agine that I was in love. My part had become so real that I could
even admire his long curly fair eyelashes, that had always reminded
me unpleasantly of albino spiders. My reflection in the boathouse
mirror was strange, too. I was wearing a white dress and Aunt
Teresa had ingenuously turned the net dining room curtains into a
veil with a long train that dragged dramatically behind me. I was
"made up" for the first time: my mouth was an unfamiliar scarlet
bow and my eyes, no longer mine, looked unnaturally bright and
expectant.
In the dark, we trooped single file over the boardwalk to grand–
father's house. I, carefully holding up my train, was nervous but
happy and confident, at least, of grandfather's approbation. From
behind a screen, I peered at the grownups, while I waited for my
cue. It was disturbing to know all the faces so well-I prayed that
my father wouldn't laugh at the wrong moment and that there would
be no talking during the performance. Grandfather sat in the center
