386
PARTISAN REVIEW
"It's true," said his father. "I come from a different world. Your
mother and I led an entirely different life."
"Oh, how can you compare Mother," Wilhelm said. "Mother was
a help to you. Did she harm you ever?"
"There's no need to carry on like an opera, Wilky," said the doctor.
"This is only your side of things."
"What? It's the truth," said Wilhelm.
The old man could not be persuaded and shook his round head and
drew his vest down over the gilded shirt, and leaned back with a com–
pleteness of style that made this look, to anyone out of hearing, like
an
ordinary conversation between a middle-aged man and his respected
father. Wilhelm towered and swayed, big and sloven, with his gray
eyes red-shot and his honey-colored hair twisted in flaming shapes up–
wards. I njustice made him angry, made him beg. He wanted an under–
standing with his father. He tried to capitulate to him, and he said,
"You can' t comp:tre Mother and Margaret, and neither can you and I
be compared, bel \Use you, Dad, were a success. And a success-is a
success. I neVl;' m. de a success."
The doctc. 's old face lost all of its composure and became hard
and angry. His small breast rose sharply under the red and black
shirt and he said, "Yes. Because of hard work. I was not self-indulgent,
not lazy. MyoId man sold dry goods in Williamsburg. We were nothing,
do you understand? I knew I couldn't afford to waste my chances."
"I wouldn't admit for one minute that I was lazy," said Wilhelm.
"If
anything, I tried too hard. I admit I made many mistakes. Like I
thought I shot. 'dn't do things you had done already. Study chemistry.
You had done it already.
It
was in the family,"
His father continued, "I didn't run around with fifty women,
either. I was not a Hollywood star. I didn't have time to go to Cuba
for a vacation. I stayed at home and took care of my family."
Oh, thought Wilhelm, his eyes turning upwards, why did I come
here in the first place, to live near him. New York is like a gas. The colors
are running. My head feels so tigh t, I don't know what I'm doing.
He
thinks I want to take away his money or that I envy him. He doesn't
see what I want.
"Dad," Wilhelm said aloud, "you're being very unfair. It's true
the movies was a false step. But I love my boys. I didn't abandon them.
I left Margaret because I had to."
"Why did you have to?"
"Well-" said Wilhelm, struggling to condense his many reasons
into a few plain words, "I h ad to- I had to."
With sudden and surprising bluntness his father said, "Did you
have bed trouble with her? Then you should have stuck it out. Sooner
or later everyone has it. Normal people stick it out.
It
passes. But you
wouldn't, so now you must pay for your stupid romantic notions. Have
I made my view clear?"
It was very clear. Wilhelm seemed to hear it repeated from various
sides and inclined his head different ways, and listened and thought.
