422
PARTISAN REVIEW
"When did Mama die?"
"Grandma died twenty years ago, daddy ."
"It's a sin." The old man was crying, and singing:
Oh Hel–
Oh Hel-
Oh Helen please be mine
Your count-
Your count-
Your country is divine
For cu-
For cu-
For curiosity
Oh Hel-
Oh Hel-
Oh Helen please love me.
"Clara?"
"1m sitting right behind you, Daddy. "
"Be sure to sing that one to the kids, Old Man," Clara's brother
said.
"It'll kill Ma," Clara said . Her brother caught her eye in the
rearview mirror and winked .
Sadie didn't want to rent a hospital bed: "What for ?" she said.
"It's just a matter of time ," Clara's brother said . Sadie didn't want to
hire a practical nurse: "I can't afford it," she said. "But if it's just a
matter of time?" Clara said . "Don't say
dying,"
Sadie said to Clara,
who hadn't said dying. Clara's sister-in-law rattled the dishes in the
sink: "Shit!" she said. Clara exchanged looks with her daughter, who
rolled her eyes . Clara's son sat in the small room off the kitchen,
holding the old man's hand.
Sadie's Barcalounger stood in the doorway to the old man's
room, which was really the second parlor. He lay on a foam-rubber
couch that had doubled for a bed - such a narrow bed - ever since
Clara could remember . The couch and the bolsters were covered in
slipcovers that Clara coveted - cerise cabbage roses against pale
gray and lime stripes, deco delight. In the first parlor, the one in
which no one ever sat, the sofas were red velvet covered with heavy
perforated plastic; the wood was white, trimmed with gold . The
couch-bed in the second parlor was covered with heavy plastic too .
And now with a rubber sheet. Where are all the doilies Sadie cro–
cheted when we were young? Clara wondered . That morning, be-
