The Hotel New Hampshire Part 13

The second-string backfield appeared under the influence of a spell: they did everything in slow motion. They ran to the holes that Junior Jones had opened, after the holes had closed; they lobbed pa.s.ses into the sky, and the pa.s.ses took forever to come down. Waiting for one such pa.s.s, Harold Swallow was knocked unconscious and Iowa Bob wouldn't let him play the rest of the long day.

'Somebody rang your bell, Harold,' Coach Bob told the speedster.

'I ain't got no bell,' Harold Swallow complained. 'Who rang?' he asked. 'What somebody?'

At the half, Exeter led 24-0. Junior Jones, playing both offence and defence, had been involved in a dozen tackles; he caused three fumbles and recovered two; but the second-string Dairy backfield had coughed up the ball three times, and two looping pa.s.ses had been intercepted. In the second half, Coach Bob started Junior Jones at a running-back position, and Jones made three consecutive first downs before the Exeter defence adjusted. The adjustment was simply recognizing that as long as Junior Jones was in in the backfield, he would carry the ball. So Iowa Bob put Junior back in the line, where he had more fun, and Dairy's only score, which came late in the fourth quarter, was properly credited to Jones. He broke into the Exeter backfield and took the ball away from an Exeter running back and ran into the Exeter end zone with it - and with two or three Exeter players clinging to him. The extra point was wide to the left and the final score was Exeter 45, Dairy 6. the backfield, he would carry the ball. So Iowa Bob put Junior back in the line, where he had more fun, and Dairy's only score, which came late in the fourth quarter, was properly credited to Jones. He broke into the Exeter backfield and took the ball away from an Exeter running back and ran into the Exeter end zone with it - and with two or three Exeter players clinging to him. The extra point was wide to the left and the final score was Exeter 45, Dairy 6.

Franny missed Junior's touchdown: she had come to the game only because of him, and she had gone back to being a cheerleader for the Exeter game only to yell her lungs out for Junior Jones. But Franny got involved in an altercation with another cheerleader, and Mother had to take her home. The other cheerleader was Chipper Dove's hiding place, Mindy Mitch.e.l.l.

'c.o.c.k tease,' Mindy Mitch.e.l.l called my sister.

'Dumb c.u.n.t,' Franny said, and whacked Mindy with her cheerleader's megaphone. It was made of cardboard, and it looked like a large s.h.i.+t-brown ice cream cone with a death-grey D D for Dairy painted on it. ' for Dairy painted on it. 'D is for Death,' Franny always said. is for Death,' Franny always said.

'Smack in the b.o.o.bs,' another cheerleader told me. 'Franny hit Mindy Mitch.e.l.l with the megaphone smack in the b.o.o.bs.'

Of course I told Junior Jones, after the game', why Franny wasn't there to walk with him back to the gym.

'What a good girl she is!' Junior said. 'You tell her, won't you?'

And of course I did. Franny had taken another another bath and was all dressed up to help Ronda Ray wait on tables; she was in a pretty good mood. Despite the rather landslide conclusion to Iowa Bob's winning season, nearly everyone seemed in a good mood. It was opening night at the Hotel New Hamps.h.i.+re! bath and was all dressed up to help Ronda Ray wait on tables; she was in a pretty good mood. Despite the rather landslide conclusion to Iowa Bob's winning season, nearly everyone seemed in a good mood. It was opening night at the Hotel New Hamps.h.i.+re!

Mrs. Urick had outdone herself at plainness-but-goodness; even Max was wearing a white s.h.i.+rt and tie, and Father was absolutely beaming behind the bar - the bottles winking in the mirror, under his fast-moving elbows and over his shoulders, were like a sunrise Father had always believed was coming.

There were eleven couples and seven singles for overnight guests, and a divorced man from Texas had come all the way to see his son play against Exeter; the kid had gone out of the game in the first quarter with a sprained ankle, but even the Texan was in a good mood. Compared to him, the couples and the singles seemed a little shy - not knowing each other, just having children at the Dairy School in common - but after the kids went back to their dorms, the Texan got everyone talking to each other in the restaurant and bar. 'Isn't it great great having kids?' he asked. 'G.o.d, it's something how they all grow up, isn't it?' Everyone agreed. The Texan said, 'Why don't you all pull your chairs over here to my table and have a drink on me!' And Mother stood anxiously in the kitchen doorway, with Mrs. Urick and Max, and Father stood poised but confident behind the bar; Frank ran out of the room; Franny held my hand and we held our breath; Iowa Bob looked as if he were suppressing an enormous sneeze. And one by one the couples and the singles got up from where they were sitting and attempted to pull their chairs over to the Texan's table. having kids?' he asked. 'G.o.d, it's something how they all grow up, isn't it?' Everyone agreed. The Texan said, 'Why don't you all pull your chairs over here to my table and have a drink on me!' And Mother stood anxiously in the kitchen doorway, with Mrs. Urick and Max, and Father stood poised but confident behind the bar; Frank ran out of the room; Franny held my hand and we held our breath; Iowa Bob looked as if he were suppressing an enormous sneeze. And one by one the couples and the singles got up from where they were sitting and attempted to pull their chairs over to the Texan's table.

'Mine's stuck!' said a woman from New Jersey, who'd had a little too much to drink; she had a sharp, squeaky giggle of the mindless quality of hamsters running miles and miles on those little wheels in their cages.

A man from Connecticut turned bright red in the face, trying to lift his chair, until his wife said, 'It's nailed down. There are nails that go right into the floor.'

A man from Ma.s.sachusetts knelt on the floor by his chair. 'Screws,' he said. Those are screws screws - four or five of them, for each chair!' - four or five of them, for each chair!'

The Texan knelt down on the floor and stared at his chair.

'Everything's screwed down here!' Iowa Bob shouted, suddenly. He had not spoken to anyone since after the game, when he told the scout from Perm State that Junior Jones could play anywhere. His face was unfamiliarly red and s.h.i.+ning, as if he'd had one more drink than he usually allowed himself - or the sense of his own retirement had finally come to him. 'We're all on a big s.h.i.+p!' said Iowa Bob. 'We're on a big cruise, across the world!' screwed down here!' Iowa Bob shouted, suddenly. He had not spoken to anyone since after the game, when he told the scout from Perm State that Junior Jones could play anywhere. His face was unfamiliarly red and s.h.i.+ning, as if he'd had one more drink than he usually allowed himself - or the sense of his own retirement had finally come to him. 'We're all on a big s.h.i.+p!' said Iowa Bob. 'We're on a big cruise, across the world!'

'Ya-hoo!' the Texan shouted. 'I'll drink to that!'

The woman from New Jersey clutched the back of her screwed-down chair. Some of the others sat down.

'We're in danger of being swept away, at any time!' Coach Bob said, and Ronda Ray came swis.h.i.+ng back and forth between Bob and the Dairy parents poised at their well-fastened seats; she was pa.s.sing out the coasters, and the c.o.c.ktail napkins again, and flicking a damp towel over the edges of the tables. Frank peeked in from the door to the hall; Mother and the Uricks seemed paralyzed in the kitchen doorway; Father had lost none of the glitter he absorbed from the bar mirror, but he stared at his father, old Iowa Bob, as if he feared that the retired coach was about to say something crazy.

'Of course course the chairs are screwed down!' Bob said, sweeping his arm toward the sky, as if he were giving his last halftime speech - and this were the game of his life. 'At the Hotel New Hamps.h.i.+re,' said Iowa Bob, 'when the s.h.i.+t hits the fan, n.o.body gets blown away!' the chairs are screwed down!' Bob said, sweeping his arm toward the sky, as if he were giving his last halftime speech - and this were the game of his life. 'At the Hotel New Hamps.h.i.+re,' said Iowa Bob, 'when the s.h.i.+t hits the fan, n.o.body gets blown away!'

'Ya-hoo!' the Texan cried again, but everyone else seemed to have stopped breathing.

'Just hold on to your seats!' said Coach Bob. 'And nothing will ever hurt you here.'

'Ya-hoo! Thank G.o.d G.o.d the chairs are screwed down!' the big-hearted Texan cried. 'Let's all drink to that!' the chairs are screwed down!' the big-hearted Texan cried. 'Let's all drink to that!'

The wife of the man from Connecticut gave an audible sigh of relief.

'Well, I guess, we'll just have to speak up if we're all going to be friends and talk talk to each other!' the Texan said. to each other!' the Texan said.

'Yes!' said the New Jersey woman, a little breathlessly.

Father was still staring at Iowa Bob, but Bob was just fine - he turned and winked at Frank in the hall doorway, and bowed to Mother and the Uricks, and Ronda Ray came through the room again and gave the old coach a saucy stroke across his cheek, and the Texan watched Ronda as if he'd forgotten all about chairs - screwed down or not screwed down. Who cares if the chairs can't be moved? he was thinking to himself - because Ronda Ray had more moves than Harold Swallow, and she was into the spirit of opening night, like everyone else.

'Ya-hoo,' Franny whispered in my ear, but I sat at the bar watching Father make the drinks. He looked more concentrated with energy than I had ever seen him before, and the gradual volume of voices came over me - and always would: I will remember that restaurant and bar, in that that Hotel New Hamps.h.i.+re, as a place that was always so loud with talk, even if there weren't many people there. Like the Texan said, everyone had to speak up if they were going to sit so far apart. Hotel New Hamps.h.i.+re, as a place that was always so loud with talk, even if there weren't many people there. Like the Texan said, everyone had to speak up if they were going to sit so far apart.

And even after the Hotel New Hamps.h.i.+re, had been open long enough so that we recognized many of our customers, from the town, as 'regulars' - those who were at the bar every night until closing time, just before which old Iowa Bob would appear for a nightcap before he turned in - even during those familiar evenings, with those familiar few, Bob could still pull his favourite trick. 'Hey, pull up your chair,' he'd say to someone, and someone would always be fooled. For a moment, forgetting where he or she was, someone would give a little lift, a little grunt, a little perplexed strain would pa.s.s across a face, and Iowa Bob would laugh and cry out, 'Nothing moves at the Hotel New Hamps.h.i.+re! We're screwed down here - for moves at the Hotel New Hamps.h.i.+re! We're screwed down here - for life!' life!'

That opening night, after the bar and restaurant was closed and everyone had gone to bed, Franny and Frank and I met at the switchboard and did a bed check on each of the rooms with the unique squawk-box system. We could hear who slept soundly, and who snored; we could detect who was still up (reading), and we were surprised (and disappointed) to discover no couples were talking, or making love.

Iowa Bob slept like a subway, rumbling miles and miles underground. Mrs. Urick had left a stockpot simmering, and Max was playing his usual static. The New Jersey couple was reading, or one of them was: the slow turning of pages, the short breaths of the nonsleeper. The Connecticut pair wheezed and whinnied and whooped in their sleep; their room was a boiler room of sound. Ma.s.sachusetts, Rhode Island, Pennsylvania, New York, and Maine all gave off the sounds of their various habits of repose.

Then we switched on the Texan. 'Ya-hoo,' I said to Franny.

'Whoo-pee,' she whispered back.

We expected to hear his cowboy boots striking the floor; we expected to hear him drinking out of his hat, or sleeping like a horse - his long legs cantering under the covers, his big hands, strangling the bed. But we heard nothing.

'He's dead!' Frank said, making Franny and me jump.

'Jesus, Frank,' Franny said. 'Maybe he's just out of his room.'

'He's had a heart attack,' Frank said. 'He's overweight and he drank too much.'

We listened. Nothing. No horse. No creaking of boots. Not a breath.

Franny switched the Texan's room from Receiving to Broadcasting. 'Ya-hoo?' she whispered.

And then it came to us - all three of us (even Frank) seemed to grasp it. It took Franny about one second to switch to Ronda Ray's 'dayroom.'

'You want to know what a dayroom dayroom is, Frank?' she asked. is, Frank?' she asked.

And on came the unforgettable sound.

As Iowa Bob said, we are are on a big cruise, across the world, and we're in danger of being swept away, at any time. on a big cruise, across the world, and we're in danger of being swept away, at any time.

Frank and Franny and I gripped our chairs.

'Oooooooooo!' gasped Ronda Ray.

'Hoo, hoo, hoo!' the Texan cried.

And later he said, 'I sure appreciate this.'

'Phooey,' Ronda said.

'No, I do, I really do do,' he said. We heard him peeing - like a horse, it went on forever. 'You don't know how hard it is for me to hit that little bitty toilet up on the fourth floor,' he said. 'It's so far down,' the Texan said, 'I have to take aim before I shoot.'

'Ha!' cried Ronda Ray.

'Ya-hoo!' the Texan said.

'Disgusting,' Frank said, and went to bed, but Franny and I stayed up until the only sounds on the squawk box were the sounds of sleep.

In the morning it was raining, and I made a point of holding my breath every time I ran by the second-floor landing - not wanting to disturb Ronda, and knowing what she thought of my 'breathing.'

Blue in the face, I pa.s.sed the Texan climbing between three and four.

'Ya-Hoo!' I said.

'Morning! Morning!' he cried. 'Staying in shape, huh?' he said. 'Good for you! Your body's got to last you all your life, you know.'

'Yessir,' I said, and ran up and down some more.

About the thirtieth trip I was beginning to bring back the Black Arm of the Law, and the sight of Franny's missing fingernail - how so much pain seemed focused at this bleeding tip of her hand, and perhaps distracted her from the rest of her body - when Ronda Ray blocked my way on the second-floor landing.

'Whoa, boy,' she said, and I stopped. She was wearing one of her nightgowns, and if the sun had been s.h.i.+ning, the light would have shot right through the material and lit her up for me - but it was a gloomy light, that morning, and the dim stairwell revealed very little of her. Just her moves, and her absorbing odour.

'Good morning,' I said. 'Ya-hoo!'

'Ya-hoo to you, John-O,' she said. I smiled and ran in place.

'You're breathing breathing again,' Ronda told me. again,' Ronda told me.

'I was trying to hold my breath for you,' I panted, 'but I got too tired.'

'I can hear your f.u.c.king heart heart,' she said.

'It's good for me,' I said.

'It's not good for me me,' Ronda said. She put her hand on my chest, as if she were reading my heartbeat. I stopped running in place; I needed to spit.

'John-O,' said Ronda Ray, 'if you like like to breathe this hard and make your heart pound, you should come see to breathe this hard and make your heart pound, you should come see me me the next time it rains.' the next time it rains.'

And I ran up and down the stairs about forty more times. It will probably never rain again, I thought. I was too tired to eat anything at breakfast.

'Just have a banana,' said Iowa Bob, but I looked away from it. 'And an orange or two,' Bob said. I excused myself.

Egg was in the bathroom and he wouldn't let Franny in.

'Why don't Franny and Egg take their baths together?' Father asked. Egg was six, and in another year he would probably be too embarra.s.sed to take a bath with Franny. He was fond of baths now because of all the tub toys he possessed; when you used the bathroom after Egg had been there, the bathtub looked like a children's beach - abandoned during an air raid. Hippos, boats, frogmen, rubber birds, lizards, alligators, a shark with a wind-up mouth, a seal with wind-up flippers, a ghastly yellow turtle - every conceivable imitation of amphibious life, sodden and dripping on the tub floor and crunching on the bathmat, underfoot.

'Egg!' I would scream. 'Come clean up your s.h.i.+t!'

'What s.h.i.+t?' Egg would cry. s.h.i.+t?' Egg would cry.

'Honestly, your language language,' Mother said - repeatedly, to us all.

Frank had taken to peeing against the trash barrels at the delivery entrance in the morning; he claimed he could never get to the bathroom when he wanted to. I went upstairs and used the bathroom attached to Iowa Bob's room, and used the weights there, too, of course.

'What a racket to wake up to!' old Bob complained. 'I never thought this is how retirement would be. Listening to someone peeing and weight-lifting. What an alarm clock!'

'You like to get up early, anyway,' I told him.

'It's not when when that I mind,' said the old coach. 'It's that I mind,' said the old coach. 'It's how how.'

And we slipped through November that way - a freak snowfall early in the month: it really should have been rain, I knew. What did it mean that it wasn't wasn't rain? I wondered, thinking of Ronda Ray and her dayroom. rain? I wondered, thinking of Ronda Ray and her dayroom.

It was a dry November.

Egg had a run of ear infections; he seemed partially deaf most of the time.

'Egg, what did you do with my green sweater?' Franny asked.

'What?' Egg said.

'My green sweater!' Franny screamed.

'I don't have a green sweater,' Egg said.

'It's my my green sweater!' Franny shouted. 'He dressed his bear in it yesterday - I saw it,' Franny told Mother. 'And now I can't find it.' green sweater!' Franny shouted. 'He dressed his bear in it yesterday - I saw it,' Franny told Mother. 'And now I can't find it.'

'Egg, where's your bear?' Mother asked.

'Franny doesn't have a bear,' Egg said. That's my my bear.' bear.'

'Where's my running hat?' I asked Mother. 'It was on the radiator in the hall last night.'

'Egg's bear is probably wearing it,' Frank said. 'And he's out doing wind sprints.'

'What?' Egg said.

Lilly also had medical problems. We had our annual physicals just before Thanksgiving and our family doctor - an old geezer named Dr. Blaze, whose fire, Franny remarked, was almost out - discovered during a routine check that Lilly hadn't grown in a year. Not a pound, not a fraction of an inch. She was exactly the same size she'd been when she was nine, which was not much bigger than she'd been at eight - or (checking the records) at seven.

'She's not growing?' Father asked.

'I've said so, for years,' Franny said. 'Lilly doesn't doesn't grow - she just grow - she just is is.'

Lilly seemed unimpressed by the a.n.a.lysis; she shrugged. 'So I'm small,' she said. 'Everyone's always saying so. So what's the matter with being small?'

'Nothing, dear,' Mother said. 'You can be as small as you want, but you should be growing - just a little.'

'She's going to be one of those who shoots up all at once,' said Iowa Bob, but even he looked doubtful. Lilly didn't impress you as the sort who would ever 'shoot up.'