48
PARTISAN REVIEW
Then Lotte did scream, loudly. Bartie jumped from his chair and
leaped toward Sampson; he covered the dog's ears with his hands.
Norman lifted a fist into the air. "Enough!" he shouted. Then he
btought it down so hard on the table that, as in a magic trick, every–
thing on it jumped half an inch in the air. "Goddamn it! Enough!"
LOTTE SPENT THE EVENING playing Schubert sonatas on the baby grand.
Exiled to my bedroom,
I
heard the wrong notes. Later, waking,
I
heard
her voice, then Norman's, arguing, even though they were at the other
arm of the house. And this, at all hours: the thud-thud-thud-thump of
Barton's head striking either his bedstead or the wall.
In
the morning we
found our suits laid out for us, with white shirts and starched white col–
lars. When 1 went downstairs
I
saw that Mary was dressed up as well;
she had on a matching skirt and blouse, and the lamb's-wool sweater
that Norman had given her for Christmas. A row of three suitcases, two
small valises and a larger portmanteau, sat near the front door.
"What are those for?"
I
asked the maid. "They aren't Norman's.
Th ey a ren't Lotte's."
"Those are your bags, yours and Mister Barton's. And my clothes
and Arthur's clothes are in that big suitcase. We are taking a car trip
together all the way to the state of New Mexico; we are going to see
those underground Carlsbad Ca verns."
"What are you talking about? Who said so? Nobody asked us. What
if we don't want to go? Don't we have rights?"
"None 1 know to speak of," Mary answered. "Long as you the little
people, Miss Lotte, she makes the decisions."
"1 am going to talk to her.
I
am going to wake her up. It's ridiculous,
this beauty sleep. Where's Bartie? He'll never agree to go."
"You look out that front window where Arthur has the car in the
drive. That boy has his foot on the gas pedal already."
1 went into the dining room and pushed the curtains aside. There was
the Buick, the top up, the engine off; Barton was in the driver's seat,
twisting the steering wheel left and right. Arthur, in a brown suit, came
downstairs and carried all three bags to the back of the car. The battle,
I
saw, had been lost. Nonetheless, 1 moved to the foyer and shouted up
the long curve of the staircase. "You want to get rid of us! You're
ashamed of us! Bartie was right! You're going to sell the house when
we're gone!"
From the sleepers above, no answer. Mary came out with a hamper
and her handbag. Docilely, 1 followed.
