54
PARTISAN REVIEW
afforded a view of how the various minerals had stained the layers of
sand. Mary came in to shoo us back to the car, but not before buying
each of us a glass box whose contents were arranged in tiers of color.
This time Barton climbed into the back. He sat close to Mary, turning
the box in his hands, holding it up to the li ght, and then licking it, as if
it were the spumoni we always ordered for dessert at the Swiss Chalet.
WE REMAINED ON ROUTE 66 into New Mexico and past Albuquerque;
then, in late afternoon, we veered south, more or less along the course
of the Pecos River. We had reservations at the Mescalero Motel, only a
short drive from the Monument, which we would visit first thing in the
morning. It was already dusk by the time we reached Roswell, and
pitch-black two hours later, when we pulled into Loving. The Mescalero
had one large, red-tiled building and a series of cab in s spread in a wide
semi-circle. There was a small, lit swimming pool, a little putting green,
and a horseshoe pit with iron stakes at either end. Arthur pulled up in
front of the office, and we followed him inside. There, a tall, thin man
with crutches told us there were no reservations for Jacobi.
"Must be a mistake," said Mary. "Miss Lotte gave me a number."
Arthur put his hand to his cheek . "No, there ain't no mistake."
"Can't we rent the rooms?" I asked the crippled man. "Do we have
to have a reservation?"
"All full up," the clerk replied. "Fu ll up since the start of the month."
"You're a liar," said Barton. '''Vacancy.' That's what the sign says.
I'm a writer. I know every word."
"Looks like I forgot to turn the switch," said the man, doing so now;
the word No flashed on in pink.
Arthur led us out the door. We turned back the way we'd come. There
were no rooms in Otis and none at any of the motels in the town of
Carlsbad. OUf luck was no better at the only place in Lakewood, whose
proprietor, a lready in a woolen nightcap, would not open the screen
door. Finally, in Artesia, we found a vacancy at the Susanna Motel. It
had just a single building, long and low, with the roof sinking like a bro–
ken-down horse. There was only one room for the four of us, and it was
at the end, closest to the highway. Barton and I claimed the bed-it was
as swaybacked as the roof above us-furthest from the window. Arthur
brought in the bags and then went back to the car. He wanted to fill it
with gas, he said, and buy some sandwiches to make up for our missed
dinner.
All we wanted was sleep. In the tiny bathroom, in the green-stained
wash basin, Mary scrubbed our faces, which she hadn't done since the
