58
PARTISAN REVIEW
When he saw Barton and me he sagged against the top of his crutches
and lifted his hat. Mary was weeping when she came outside. Arthur,
when we ran to him, kept his eyes down. "We got's to go home," he
said. "You boys please to get to the car."
We drove the whole of that day and, though Arthur had not had much
sleep, right through the night. The Buick, on the open road, hit seventy–
five, then eighty, and stayed there. Mary never removed the handkerchief
from her eyes. Neither she nor Arthur would tell us what had happened.
We stopped for coffee. We stopped for soup that was too hot to eat. We
pulled over so Arthur could take a half-hour's nap. Barton slept most of
the time. Once he woke and said, not tearfully, but philosophically,
"King George is dead. Norman is dead. All the kings wil l be dead."
WE MADE A DASH THROUGH THE MOHAVE at first li ght and got to Sun–
set by mid-afternoon. Bartie began rocking as we followed the boule–
vard's twists and turns. I took his hand as we passed Mandeville
Canyon and began the last climb to Riviera. We took the hairpin onto
San Remo and drove to the house. There were no reporters, no neigh–
bors, at the front of the
l a~n.
We drove past the pillared fa<;ade and
parked at the circle that surrounded the rustling pecan. Sampson came
leaping and barking, as if nothing had happened. The Packard, I
noticed, was not in the garage. Lotte was at the back door. She stood on
tiptoe. She cried, "Boys! Here I am!"
She led the two of us up the sta ircase, left, and left again to her and
Norman's bedroom. She lay down, dressed as she was, on top of the
canopied bed. Barton stood by the window. I lay on the carpet, behind
the cha ise lounge. Lotte began by saying, "Did you get to see the cav–
erns? Wasn't it a wonderful trip?"
Barton did not reply. I could not think of a word to say.
"Well, that was silly. I can't imagine why I said it. Of course it was
not a wonderful trip. Now you are going to have to be big boys. All
grown up. We are going to have to face this together. Norman went out
in the Packard. He was going to Burbank, to clean out his office . Oh, if
only Arthur had been here to drive! I can't help blaming myself for that!
What happened, boys, Barton, Richard, is that he hit a tree. Perhaps he
had a stroke. Or a heart attack. What does that matter? He hit a tree
and was terribly hurt and he lingered for a time but at ten o'clock this
morning I am so sorry to tell you your father died."
Now the tears spi ll ed from me. Hidden by the furniture,
I
beat my fists
on the green carpet. "But he was a good man! He was too good to die!"
Barton sa id, "You are lying! Don't be a li ar!"
