LESLIE EPSTEIN
55
start of grade school; she hovered while we brushed our teeth. When we
stepped back to the bedroom, Arthur had not returned. We got into
pajamas. We got into bed. Mary turned off the un shaded light. She
moved to the far side of her bed and sat, looking out the window. At
midnight the floodlight went off outside the building. The headlights
from the cars and trucks periodically swept across the black glass of the
window, like a lighthouse beam. Mary made obscure gestures in the
darkness; she was removing her clothes. She took off her sweater. She
unbuttoned her blouse. Her skirt had a zipper. She stood to unzip it. She
was wearing a white slip that, like the bones in a Halloween costume or
the image in a fluoroscope, seemed to float and flit all on its own. She
moved into the bathroom, then returned to her spot before the window.
Where is that man?
[
heard her say under her breath.
"Mary, is he lost, do you think?"
"My oh my, I thought sure you asleep. No . He's stubborn. He's going
to fill that tank or die striving. You go on to sleep, Mister Richard.
Tomorrow we're seeing those caves."
I didn't sleep, not yet. [ watched the ghost of the undergarment pace,
sit, pace once again. Then I watched as, like a smoke puff, it began ris–
ing higher and even higher. I realized that Mary was taking off the piece
of silk. Something clamped my shoulder. Barton's hand. I could tell he'd
stopped breathing. The two of us, then, stared at her full breasts, the
bulge of her belly, and the overlapping flesh folds at her waist and her
thigh. A car came, followed by another. Her spectacles, of gold, shone;
so did the cross of Jesus at her neck. Her body was like a black candle
whose wax had melted. I held my breath too. I watched as she bent, so
that her breasts hung swaying; off went her shoes. Then she reached up
and spookily took off the top of her head. Behind me, Bartie gasped. He
trembled, making the whole bed shudder. Then, simultaneously, we saw
that she had removed what we always thought might be a wig. Her teeth
came out next, into a glass of water. Then she wrapped her old plaid
nightdress around her body and lay down on top of her bed. The three
of us, I think, fell asleep.
When I woke I thought it was dawn. But the light that poured
through the window came from across the roadway. A number of cars
had gathered there, on the shoulder and beyond, and the headlights,
crisscrossing, lit up the Susanna's fac;:ade. I heard music, or at any rate
singing, along with shouts and curses and laughter. I rose to an elbow.
Barton was already up, clutching his knees. "Shhh," he hissed, his fin–
gers to his lips. "It's a lynch mob. I bet they've got Arthur. They started
a fire. They're going to burn us down."
