The Hotel New Hampshire Part 38

'Shut Up,' Arbeiter said. 'It's possible to have a bear ride in the car with Freud. Everyone knows Freud's got a thing for bears. It might be a nice idea to have a bear ride with him - on his last trip.'

'No change in the plan, not now,' said Schraubenschlussel, nervously. 'According to plan,' he said, looking at his watch. 'Two minutes.'

'Go now,' Arbeiter said. 'It will take a while to get the blind man out the door and in. the car.'

'Not me!' Freud cried. 'I know the way! It's my hotel, I know where the door is,' the old man said, hobbling on the baseball bat toward the door. 'And you've parked that d.a.m.n car in the same place for years!'

'Go with him, Schraubenschlussel,' Arbeiter told Wrench. 'Hold the old f.u.c.ker's arm.'

'I don't need any a.s.sistance,' Freud said, cheerfully. 'Good-bye, Lilly dear!' Freud cried. 'Don't throw up, dear,' he urged her. 'And keep growing!'

Lilly gagged again, and shook; Arbeiter moved the gun about two inches away from her ear. He was apparently disgusted with her puking, though it was only a very small puddle that Lilly had managed; she was not even a big vomiter.

'Hang in there, Frank!' Freud called - to the entire lobby. 'Don't let anyone tell you you're queer! You're a prince prince, Frank!' Freud cried. 'You're better than Rudolf!' Freud yelled to Frank. 'You're more majestic than all the Hapsburgs, Frank!' Freud encouraged him. Frank couldn't speak, he was crying so hard.

'You're lovely, Franny my dear, Franny my sweetheart,' said Freud softly. 'One doesn't have to see to know how beautiful you are,' he said.

'Auf Wiedersehen, Freud,' Franny said.

'Auf Wiedersehen, weight lifter!' Freud cried to me. 'Give me a hug,' he asked me, holding out his arms, the Louisville Slugger like a sword in one hand. 'Let me feel how strong you are,' Freud said to me, and I went up to him and hugged him. That was when he whispered in my ear.

'When you hear the explosion,' Freud whispered, 'kill Arbeiter.' Arbeiter.'

'Come on!' Schraubenschlussel said, nervously. He grabbed Freud's arm.

'I love you, Win Berry!' Freud cried, but my father had his head in his hands; he would not look up from where he sat, sunk in the couch. 'I'm sorry I got you in the hotel business,' Freud said to my father. 'And the bear business,' Freud added. 'Good-bye, Susie!' Freud said.

Susie started to cry. Schraubenschlussel steered Freud through the door. We could see the car, the Mercedes that was a bomb; it was parked against the curb almost in front of the door to the Hotel New Hamps.h.i.+re. It was a revolving door, and Freud and Schraubenschlussel revolved through it.

'I don't need your a.s.sistance!' Freud was complaining to Wrench. 'Just let me feel feel the car, just get me to the fender,' Freud complained. 'I can find the door by myself, you idiot,' Freud was saying. 'Just let me touch the fender.' the car, just get me to the fender,' Freud complained. 'I can find the door by myself, you idiot,' Freud was saying. 'Just let me touch the fender.'

Arbeiter was getting a stiff back, leaning over Lilly. He straightened up a little; he glanced at me, checking on where I was. He glanced at Franny. His gun wandered around.

'There it is, I've got it!' we heard Freud crying, cheerfully, outside. 'That's the headlight, right?' he asked Schraubenschlussel. My father raised his head from his hands and looked at me.

'Of course course that's the headlight, you old fool!' Schraubenschlussel yelled at Freud. 'Get that's the headlight, you old fool!' Schraubenschlussel yelled at Freud. 'Get in in, will you?'

'Freud!' Father screamed. He must have known, then. He ran to the revolving door. 'Auf Wiedersehen, Freud!' Father cried. At the revolving door, Father saw the whole thing very clearly. Freud, with his hand feeling along the headlight, slipped toward the grille of the Mercedes instead of toward the door.

'The other way, you moron!' Schraubenschlussel advised. But Freud knew exactly where he was. He tore his arm out of Wrench's grasp; he leveled the Louisville Slugger and started swinging. He was looking for the front license plate, of course. Blind people have a knack for knowing exactly where things that have always been are. It took Freud only three swings to locate the license plate, my father would always remember. The first swing was a little high-off the grille.

'Lower!' Father screamed, through the revolving door. 'Auf Wiedersehen!'

The second swing hit the front b.u.mper a little to the left of the license plate, and my father yelled, 'To your right! Auf Wiedersehen Auf Wiedersehen, Freud!' Schraubenschlussel, Father said later, was already running away. He never got far enough away, however. Freud's third swing was on the money; Freud's third swing was the grand slam. What a lot for that baseball bat to go through in one night! That Louisville Slugger was never found. Freud was never entirely found, either, and Schraubenschlussel's own mother would fail to identify him. My father was blasted back from the revolving door, the white light and gla.s.s flying in his face. Franny and Frank ran to help him, and I got my arms around Arbeiter just as the bomb blew - just as Freud had told me to do.

Arbeiter in his black tuxedo, dressed for the Opera, was a little taller than I was, and a little heavier; my chin rested firmly between his shoulder blades, my arms went around his chest, pinning his arms to his side. He fired the gun once, into the floor. I thought for a moment that he might be able to shoot my foot with it, but I knew I'd never let him raise the gun any higher. I knew Lilly was out of Arbeiter's range. He fired two more shots into the floor. I held him so tightly that he couldn't even locate my foot, which was right behind his foot. His next shot hit his own foot and he started screaming. He dropped the gun. I heard it hit the floor and saw Lilly grab it, but I wasn't paying much attention to the gun. I was concentrating on squeezing Arbeiter. For someone who'd shot himself in the foot, he stopped screaming pretty soon. Frank would tell me, later, that Arbeiter stopped screaming because he couldn't breathe. I wasn't paying much attention to Arbeiter's screaming, either. I concentrated on the squeezing. I imagined the biggest barbell in the world. I don't know, exactly, what I imagined I was doing to the barbell - curling it, bench-pressing it, dead-lifting it, or simply hugging it to my own chest. It didn't matter; I was just concentrating on its weight weight. I really concentrated. I made my arms believe in themselves. If I had hugged Jolanta this hard, she would have broken in two. If I had hugged Screaming Annie this hard, she would have been quiet. Once I had dreamed of holding Franny this tightly. I had been lifting weights since Franny was raped, since Iowa Bob showed me how; with Arbeiter in my arms, I was the strongest man in the world.

'A sympathy sympathy bomb!' I heard Father yelling. I knew he was in pain. 'Jesus G.o.d! Can you believe it? A f.u.c.king bomb!' I heard Father yelling. I knew he was in pain. 'Jesus G.o.d! Can you believe it? A f.u.c.king sympathy sympathy bomb!' bomb!'

Franny later said that she knew, immediately: Father was blind. It was not just because of where he was standing when the car blew up, or the gla.s.s that was blasted into his face as he stood at the revolving door; it was not all the blood in his eyes that Franny saw when she wiped his face enough to see see what was wrong with him. 'I knew somehow,' she said. 'I mean, what was wrong with him. 'I knew somehow,' she said. 'I mean, before before I saw his eyes. I always knew he was as blind as Freud, or he would be. I knew he I saw his eyes. I always knew he was as blind as Freud, or he would be. I knew he would would be,' Franny said. be,' Franny said.

'Auf Wiedersehen, Freud!' Father was crying.

'Hold still, Daddy,' I heard Lilly saying to Father.

'Yes, hold still, Pop,' Franny said.

Frank had run up the Krugerstra.s.se to the Karntnerstra.s.se, and around the corner up to the Opera. He had to see, of course, if the sympathy sympathy bomb had responded - but Freud had possessed the vision to see that the Mercedes parked in front of the Hotel New Hamps.h.i.+re was too far from sympathy to make the Opera respond. And Schw.a.n.ger must have just kept walking. Or maybe she decided simply to stay and watch the end of the opera; maybe it was one she liked. Maybe she wanted to be there, watching them all at the curtain call, taking their last bows above the unexploded bomb. bomb had responded - but Freud had possessed the vision to see that the Mercedes parked in front of the Hotel New Hamps.h.i.+re was too far from sympathy to make the Opera respond. And Schw.a.n.ger must have just kept walking. Or maybe she decided simply to stay and watch the end of the opera; maybe it was one she liked. Maybe she wanted to be there, watching them all at the curtain call, taking their last bows above the unexploded bomb.

Frank said later that when he ran out of the Hotel New Hamps.h.i.+re to go see if the Opera was safe, he noticed that Arbeiter was a very vivid magenta color, that his fingers were still moving - or perhaps just twitching - and that he seemed to be kicking his feet. Lilly told me later that while Frank was gone - Arbeiter turned from magenta to blue. 'A slate-blue color,' Lilly, the writer, said. 'The color of the ocean on a cloudy day.' And by the time Frank got back from seeing if the Opera was safe, Franny told me that Arbeiter was completely motionless and a dead-white color - the color was all gone from his face. 'He was the color of a pearl,' Lilly said. He was dead. I had crushed him.

'You can let him go now,' Franny finally had to tell me. 'It's okay, it's going to be okay,' she whispered to me, because she knew how I liked whispering. She kissed my face, and then I let Arbeiter go.

I have not felt the same about weight lifting since. I still do it, but I'm very low-key about the lifting now; I don't like to push myself. A little light lifting, just enough to make me start feeling good; I don't like to strain, not anymore.

The authorities told us that Schraubenschlussel's 'sympathy bomb' might even have worked if the car had been closer. The bomb authorities also implied that any any explosion in the area might have set the sympathy bomb off at explosion in the area might have set the sympathy bomb off at any any time; I guess old Schraubenschlussel hadn't been as exact as he thought he was. A lot of nonsense was written about what the radicals had time; I guess old Schraubenschlussel hadn't been as exact as he thought he was. A lot of nonsense was written about what the radicals had meant meant. An unbelievable amount of garbage would be written about the 'statement' they had been trying to make. And there wasn't enough about Freud. His blindness was noted, in pa.s.sing; and that he had been in one of the camps. There was absolutely nothing about the summer of 1939, about State o' Maine and the Arbuthnot-by-the-Sea, about dreaming dreaming - or about the - or about the other other Freud, and what Freud, and what he he might have had to say about all this. There was a lot of idiocy about the might have had to say about all this. There was a lot of idiocy about the politics politics of what had happened. of what had happened.

'Politics are always idiotic!' as Iowa Bob would have said.

And there was not enough about Fehlgeburt, how she could break your heart the way she read the ending of The Great Gatsby The Great Gatsby. They acknowledged that my father was a hero, of course. They seemed polite about the reputation that our second Hotel New Hamps.h.i.+re had enjoyed - 'in its prime,' as Frank would refer to those sordid days.

When Father got out of the hospital, we gave him a present. Franny had written Junior Jones for it. Junior Jones had provided us with baseb.a.l.l.s for seven years, so Franny knew that Junior could be counted on to find Father a new baseball bat. A Louisville Slugger all his own. He would need it, of course. And Father seemed touched by our present - by Franny's thoughtfulness, really, because the bat was Franny's idea. I think Father must have cried a little when he first reached out his hands and we placed the bat in them, and he felt what it was he held. We couldn't see if he cried, however, because the bandages were still on his eyes.

And Frank, who had always had to translate for Father, had to become his interpreter in other ways. When the people from the Stastsoper wanted to pay us a tribute, Frank had to sit next to Father - at the Opera - and whisper to him about the action on the stage. Father could follow the music, just fine. I don't even remember what opera it was. It wasn't Lucia Lucia, I know that much. It was a particularly farcical comic opera, because Lilly had insisted that we wanted no Schlagobers Schlagobers and blood. It was nice that the Vienna State Opera wanted to thank us for saving them, but we didn't want to sit through any and blood. It was nice that the Vienna State Opera wanted to thank us for saving them, but we didn't want to sit through any Schlagobers Schlagobers and blood. We'd already seen and blood. We'd already seen that that opera. That was the opera that played in the Hotel New Hamps.h.i.+re for seven years. opera. That was the opera that played in the Hotel New Hamps.h.i.+re for seven years.

And so, at the opening of this merry farce of an opera - whatever it was - the conductor and the orchestra and all the singers pointed out my father in one of the front-row seats (that's where Father had insisted on sitting. 'So I can be sure to see see,' he had said). And Father stood up and took a bow; he was great at bowing. And he waved the baseball bat to the audience; the Viennese loved the Louisville Slugger part of the story, and they were touched and applauded for a long time when Father waved the bat at them. We children felt very proud.

I often wonder if the New York publisher who wanted Lilly's book for five thousand dollars would have listened to Frank's demands if if we hadn't all become famous - if we hadn't saved the Opera and murdered the terrorists in our good old American family kind of way. 'Who cares?' Frank asks, slyly. The point is, Lilly had not signed the five-thousand-dollar contract. Frank had gone for higher stakes. And when the publishers realized that we hadn't all become famous - if we hadn't saved the Opera and murdered the terrorists in our good old American family kind of way. 'Who cares?' Frank asks, slyly. The point is, Lilly had not signed the five-thousand-dollar contract. Frank had gone for higher stakes. And when the publishers realized that this this Lilly Berry was the little girl who'd had a gun held to her head, that little Lilly Berry was the youngest surviving (and certainly the smallest) member of Lilly Berry was the little girl who'd had a gun held to her head, that little Lilly Berry was the youngest surviving (and certainly the smallest) member of the the Berry family - the terrorist killers, the Opera savers - well ... at that point, of course, Frank was in the driver's seat. Berry family - the terrorist killers, the Opera savers - well ... at that point, of course, Frank was in the driver's seat.

'My author is already at work on a new book,' Frank, the agent, said. 'We're in no hurry about any of this. As far as Trying to Grow Trying to Grow is concerned, we're interested in the best offer.' is concerned, we're interested in the best offer.'

Frank would make a killing, of course.

'You mean we're going to be rich rich?' Father asked, sightlessly. When he was first blind, he had an awkward way of inclining his head too far forward - as if this might help him to see. And the Louisville Slugger was his ever-restless companion, his percussion instrument.

'We can do anything we want, Pop,' Franny said. 'You can,' she added, to him. 'Just think of it,' she told Father, 'and it's yours.' can,' she added, to him. 'Just think of it,' she told Father, 'and it's yours.'

'Dream on, Daddy,' Lilly said, but Father seemed stupefied by all the options.

'Anything?' Father asked.

'You name it,' I told him. He was our hero again; he was our father - at last. He was blind, but he was in charge.

'Well, I'll have to think about it,' Father said, cautiously, the baseball bat playing all kinds of music - that Louisville Slugger in my father's hands was as musically complicated as a full orchestra. Though Father would never make as much noise with a baseball bat as Freud had made, he was more various than Freud could have dreamed of being.

And so we left our seven-year home away from home. Frank sold the second Hotel New Hamps.h.i.+re for a ridiculously high price. After all, it was a kind of historical landmark, Frank argued.

'I'm coming home!' Franny wrote to Junior Jones.

'I'm coming home,' she also wrote to Chipper Dove.

'Why, d.a.m.n it, Franny?' I asked. 'Why write to Chipper Dove?'

But Franny refused to talk about it; she just shrugged.

'I told you,' Susie the bear said. 'Franny's got to deal deal with it - sooner or later. You've with it - sooner or later. You've both both got to deal with Chipper Dove,' Susie said, 'and you're going to have to deal with got to deal with Chipper Dove,' Susie said, 'and you're going to have to deal with each other each other, too,' said Susie the bear. I looked at Susie as if I didn't know what she was talking about, but Susie said, 'I'm not blind, you know. I got eyes. And I'm a smart bear, too.' not blind, you know. I got eyes. And I'm a smart bear, too.'

But Susie wasn't being menacing. 'You two have got a real problem,' she confided in Franny and me.

'No s.h.i.+t,' Franny said.

'Well, we're being very careful,' I told Susie.

'For how long can anybody be that that careful?' Susie asked. 'The bombs haven't all gone off,' Susie said. 'You two have a bomb between you,' said Susie the bear. 'You've got to be more than careful,' Susie warned Franny and me. 'The bomb between you two,' Susie said, 'can blow you both away.' careful?' Susie asked. 'The bombs haven't all gone off,' Susie said. 'You two have a bomb between you,' said Susie the bear. 'You've got to be more than careful,' Susie warned Franny and me. 'The bomb between you two,' Susie said, 'can blow you both away.'

For once, it seemed, Franny had nothing to say; I held her hand; she squeezed me back.

'I love you,' I told her, when we were, alone - which we should never have allowed ourselves to be. 'I'm so sorry,' I whispered, 'but I love you, I do.'

'I love you terribly much,' Franny said. And it was Lilly who saved us that time; despite the fact that we were all supposed to be packed and ready to leave, Lilly was writing. We heard the typewriter and could imagine our sister's little hands blurring blurring over the keyboard. over the keyboard.

'Now that I'm going to get published,' Lilly had said, 'I have to really get better. I've got to keep growing,' she said a little desperately. 'My G.o.d, the next book has got to be bigger than the first. And the one after that,' she said, 'it will have to be even bigger bigger.' There was a certain despair about the way she said this, and Frank said, 'Stick with me, kid. With a good agent, you've got the world by the b.a.l.l.s.'

'But I still have to do do it,' Lilly complained. 'I still have to write. I mean, now I'm it,' Lilly complained. 'I still have to write. I mean, now I'm expected expected to grow.' to grow.'

And the sound of Lilly trying so hard to grow distracted Franny and me from each other. We went out in the lobby, where it was somewhat more public - where we felt safe. Two men had just been killed in that lobby, but it was a safer place for Franny and me than in our own rooms.

The wh.o.r.es were gone. I do not care, anymore, what became of them. They didn't care what became of us.

The hotel was empty; a dangerous number of rooms beckoned to Franny and me.

'One day,' I said to her, 'we'll have have to. You know that. Or do you think it will change - if we wait it out?' to. You know that. Or do you think it will change - if we wait it out?'

'It won't change,' she said, 'but maybe - one day - we'll be able to handle it. One day it might be a little safer safer than it feels right now.' than it feels right now.'

I doubted that it would ever be safe enough, and I was on the verge of trying to convince her to do it now, to use use the second Hotel New Hamps.h.i.+re as it was meant to be used - to get it over with, to see if we were doomed or just perversely attracted to each other - but Frank was our savior ... this time. the second Hotel New Hamps.h.i.+re as it was meant to be used - to get it over with, to see if we were doomed or just perversely attracted to each other - but Frank was our savior ... this time.

He brought his bags out into the lobby and startled the h.e.l.l out of us.

'Jesus, Frank!' Franny screamed.

'Sorry,' he mumbled. Frank had his usual queer lot of things: his odd books, his peculiar clothes, and his dressmaker's dummy.

'Are you taking that dummy back to America, Frank?' Franny asked him.

'It's not as heavy as what you two you two are carrying,' Frank said. 'And it's a lot are carrying,' Frank said. 'And it's a lot safer safer.'

So Frank knew too, we realized. At that time, Franny and I thought Lilly didn't didn't know; and - regarding our own dilemma - we were grateful that Father was blind. know; and - regarding our own dilemma - we were grateful that Father was blind.

'Keep pa.s.sing the open windows,' Frank said to Franny and me - the d.a.m.n dressmaker's dummy, slung like a light log over his shoulder, had a distressing resemblance about it. It was the falseness falseness of it that Franny and I noticed: the mannequin's chipped face, the obvious wig, and the stiff, unfleshly bust of the dummy - the fake bosom, the still chest, the rigid waist. In the bad light in the lobby of the second Hotel New Hamps.h.i.+re, Franny and I could be fooled into thinking we saw shapes of Sorrow when we saw nothing at all. But hadn't Sorrow taught us to be on guard, to look of it that Franny and I noticed: the mannequin's chipped face, the obvious wig, and the stiff, unfleshly bust of the dummy - the fake bosom, the still chest, the rigid waist. In the bad light in the lobby of the second Hotel New Hamps.h.i.+re, Franny and I could be fooled into thinking we saw shapes of Sorrow when we saw nothing at all. But hadn't Sorrow taught us to be on guard, to look everywhere everywhere? Sorrow can take any shape in the world.

'You keep pa.s.sing the open windows, too, Frank,' I said - trying not to look too closely at his dressmaker's dummy.

'We've all got to stick together,' Franny said - as Father, in his sleep, cried out, 'Auf Wiedersehen, Freud!'

11

Being in Love with Franny; Dealing with Chipper Dove .

Love also floats. And, that being true, love probably resembles Sorrow in other ways.

We flew to New York City in the fall of 1964 - no separate flights this time; we were sticking together, as Franny had advised. The stewardess was troubled by the baseball bat, but she let Father hold it between his knees - humane concessions are made to the blind, in spite of 'regulations.'

Junior Jones was unable to meet our plane. Junior was playing out his last season with the Browns - in a hospital in Cleveland. 'Man,' he said to me, over the phone, 'just tell your father I'll give him my eyes if he'll give me his knees knees.'

'And what will you give me me if I give you if I give you my my knees,' I heard Franny ask Junior over the phone. I didn't hear what he said to her, but she smiled and winked at me. knees,' I heard Franny ask Junior over the phone. I didn't hear what he said to her, but she smiled and winked at me.

We could have flown to Boston; I'm sure Fritz would have met our plane, and let us stay for free at the first Hotel New Hamps.h.i.+re. But Father had told us he never wanted to see Dairy, New Hamps.h.i.+re, or that first Hotel New Hamps.h.i.+re again. Of course Father wouldn't have 'seen' it if we'd gone there and stayed there the rest of our lives, but we understood his meaning. None of us had the stomach for seeing Dairy again, and recalling when our family was whole - when each of us had both eyes open.

New York was neutral territory - and for a while, Frank knew, Lilly's publisher would put us up and entertain us.

'Enjoy yourselves,' Frank said to us. 'Just call room service.' Father would behave like a child with room service, ordering stuff he'd never eat, and ordering his usual undrinkable drinks. He'd never stayed in a hotel with room service before; he behaved as if he'd never been in New York before, either, because he complained that all the room service personnel couldn't speak English any better than the Viennese - they couldn't, of course, because they were foreigners.

They're more foreign than the Viennese ever dreamed dreamed of being!' my father would cry. ' of being!' my father would cry. 'Sprechen Sie Deutsch?' he'd yell into the phone. 'Jesus G.o.d, Frank,' Father would say, 'order us a proper Fruhstuck Fruhstuck, would you? These people don't understand me.'

'This is New York, Pop,' Franny said.

'They don't speak German or or English in New York, Dad,' Frank explained. English in New York, Dad,' Frank explained.

'What the h.e.l.l do do they speak?' Father asked. 'I order croissant and coffee and I get tea and toast!' they speak?' Father asked. 'I order croissant and coffee and I get tea and toast!'

'n.o.body knows what they speak here,' said Lilly, looking out the window.

Lilly's publisher put us up at the Stanhope on Eighty-first and Fifth Avenue; Lilly had asked to be near the Metropolitan Museum and I had asked to be near Central Park - I wanted to run. And so I ran around and around the Reservoir, four times around, twice a day - that last lap luxurious with pain, my head lolling, the tall buildings of New York appearing to topple over me.

Lilly looked out the windows of our suite on the fourteenth floor. She liked watching the people flood in and out of the museum. 'I think I'd like to live here,' she said softly. 'It's like watching a castle change kings,' Lilly whispered. 'And you can see the leaves change in the park, too,' Lilly noted. 'And whenever you visit me,' Lilly said to me, 'you can run around the Reservoir and rea.s.sure me that it's still there. I don't ever want to see it up close,' Lilly said weirdly, 'but it's comforting to have you report to me on the health of the water, the number of other runners in the park, the amount of horse s.h.i.+t on the bridle path. A writer has to know these things,' Lilly said.

'Well, Lilly,' Frank said, 'I think you'll be able to afford afford a permanent suite here, but you could get an apartment, instead, you know. You don't have to a permanent suite here, but you could get an apartment, instead, you know. You don't have to live live at the Stanhope, Lilly,' Frank said. 'It might be more practical to get your own apartment.' at the Stanhope, Lilly,' Frank said. 'It might be more practical to get your own apartment.'

'No,' Lilly said. 'If I can afford it, I want to live here. Surely this this family can understand why I might like to live in a hotel,' Lilly said. family can understand why I might like to live in a hotel,' Lilly said.

Franny s.h.i.+vered. She didn't want to live in a hotel, she had told me. But Franny would stay with Lilly for a while - after the publisher stopped paying the tab and Lilly maintained her corner suite on the fourteenth floor, Franny would keep Lilly company for a while. 'Just so you have a chaperon, Lilly,' Franny teased her. But I knew it was Franny who needed the chaperon.

'And you know who I need a chaperon from from,' Franny told me.