The Road Through the Wall (12 page)

“Desmond, Merriam, two Donald, two Byrne, two Roberts—eight,” Mr. Desmond said. “Who else?”

“Well.” Mrs. Desmond thought. “There are the Martin children,” she suggested.

“Well, now—that little Martin girl,” Mr. Desmond said.

“Hallie,” Mrs. Desmond said.

“I don't know as I can quite see her reading Shakespeare,” Mr. Desmond went on cautiously. “Most of these kids, you can tell that even though they're young, there's stuff in Shakespeare they can
get
. Mean something to them. But I can't see Hallie.”

“She's quite young,” Mrs. Desmond said.

“Really too young, I think.” Mr. Desmond drew another line, wrote “Too young,” over it and “Hallie Martin” underneath. “And her brother,” he said. “I can't see inviting one and not the other of them, can you?”

“Perhaps their family wants them to be together,” Mrs. Desmond said. “It would be rude to invite George and not Hallie.”

“Special reasons,” Mr. Desmond said. He wrote George's name under Special Reasons, and leaned back. “That's everyone, isn't it?” he asked.

“Unless you want to include that girl the Roberts got today,” Mrs. Desmond said humorously.

“
She
doesn't live in the neighborhood,” Mr. Desmond said. “This is just for the children around here. I won't ever put her down.” He began to count.

“I can't think of anyone else,” Mrs. Desmond said. “Caroline can sit here with me, and watch.”

“Still eight,” Mr. Desmond said, frowning, “I don't know if there's a play with only eight characters.” He began to leaf through the book again.

“They could each read two parts,” Mrs. Desmond said.

“They all need so many people,” Mr. Desmond said. “I don't even know as there's a play with only eight
principal
characters, even.”

“You could read some parts, too, you know,” Mrs. Desmond said. “The children would probably feel much better if you did, anyway.”

“I don't know,” Mr. Desmond said. His enthusiasm was evaporating, and he held the book idly on his lap. “If we ever wanted to
give
a play—”

“Perhaps the parents?” Mrs. Desmond suggested.

“But this was for the kids,” Mr. Desmond said petulantly. Disappointed, he put the book down on the table next to him. “I'll see what Johnny thinks,” he said.

•   •   •

“Well, for heaven's sake,” Virginia said, “we can
walk
down the
street
, can't we?”

“We might meet him or something,” Harriet said. “Please, Ginnie. Let's go the long way around.”

“It's too far,” Virginia said. “Listen, if you're scared—”

“I'm not
scared
, exactly,” Harriet said.

“He can't do anything to you,” Virginia said. “You're silly, Harriet.”

She began to walk deliberately down Cortez Road toward the highway, and after a minute Harriet followed. “It's just that my mother wouldn't like it, either,” Harriet said.

Virginia stopped. “Listen, Harriet Merriam,” she said, “if you're going to be scared all the time and always be wanting to go around the other way and afraid of your mother and everything I'll just go on down to the store by myself and not talk to you any more.” She pulled her arm away from Harriet and stood, offended, looking away while Harriet hesitated.

“All
right
,” Harriet said, “but if we get into trouble it's your fault.”

“You're silly.” Virginia put her arm through Harriet's again. “
Nothing
can happen.”

Once decided, Harriet was persuaded to find arguments for Virginia's side. “After all, we're right where we can call for help from anyone,” she said reasonably.

“And anyway my mother was as mad as yours was,” Virginia said. When they were in front of the apartment house she slowed her steps down deliberately, and Harriet's anxious haste was retarded.

“Come
on
,” she kept saying, caught by panic. “Ginnie, come
on
.”

“I'd just as soon go right in and see him,” Virginia said teasingly. “I'm not afraid. I sort of liked him.”

“I didn't.” Harriet let go of Virginia's arm abruptly as the door of the apartment house opened. “It's him,” she said, “let's run,” in a whisper; but when Virginia stood still Harriet waited, perhaps from loyalty, perhaps from terror.

“Hello, young ladies,” he said. He was smiling, and Harriet recalled that they were right where they could call for help.

“Hello,” Virginia said.

“I was sorry you could not come to tea on Tuesday,” he said. He was not in a hurry today, and he looked very gay and pleasant, standing with his hat in his hand, his head bent courteously toward Virginia.

“We were busy that day,” Virginia said easily. “We were sorry too.”

“I was hoping to show you the apartment house.”

“Perhaps we can come another time,” Virginia said. For a minute Harriet was admiring Virginia's facility, her good manners, and then a sudden thought came to her: she wants to go, Virginia wants to go see that Chinaman, she was mad when she couldn't go, she really wants to go.

“I'll see you later, Ginnie,” Harriet said. She started to walk away, but Virginia said, “Harriet, don't be silly,” and Harriet stopped and turned. The Chinese man was looking at her, and he said, “I imagine I'm delaying you. You're in a hurry.”

“No, of course not,” Harriet said foolishly. “We were just going for a walk.”

“Perhaps,” he said, turning again to Virginia, “perhaps you would like to come in for a few minutes now?”

Trapped, Harriet heard Virginia saying, “Thank you, we'd love to,” and realized that the Chinese man had turned back to the door and Virginia was following him. “Come on, Harriet,” Virginia said, “we're going in.”

Harriet was thinking of two things at once: she couldn't let Virginia go alone, not and ever be friends again afterward, but once inside they were no longer right where they could call for help. The two ideas merged stupidly. She ran after Virginia and whispered, while the man waited silently at the door, “We
can't
go in, Ginnie. My
mother
.”

“You're so silly,” Virginia said. “And you're rude to whisper. Don't come if you don't want to.” She spoke out loud and Harriet was aware of the Chinese man looking at her quietly, aware of her bad manners. She followed Virginia miserably through the doorway and over to the elevator. The foyer of the apartment house was brightly muraled; tropical fish pursued one another insanely over and around doorways, gilt—still unchipped—lay lavishly on the ceilings and floors, and on the elevator doors two more orange fish, goggle-eyed, solemnly regarded the unwary passenger. Harriet followed mutely while Virginia and the Chinese man got into the elevator. Virginia was saying, “I don't know why they paint fish all over everything.”

“I suppose they feel that a dark building needs to have cheerful decorations,” the Chinese man said. He pressed a button and the elevator began to move effortlessly upward; Harriet, crushed into a corner, watched the lines of floor slip by the little window in the elevator door; I can't get out till it stops, she was thinking.

“What floor do you live on?” Virginia asked.

“Five,” he said. “The top.”

The elevator door opened and he led them out and down a long dark carpeted hall. Now we're really far away, Harriet thought, probably there's no one else home in the whole house. They stopped at the last door, and the Chinese man said, “By the way, my name is Lee,” and Virginia said, “I'm Virginia Donald and this is Harriet Merriam,” and he opened the door and they went in. For a minute Harriet lingered in the doorway, wondering if this were her last chance to get help, wondering what horrible thing this man and Virginia were conspiring against her.

Inside they found a living-room that might have been in the Merriams' house, or the Donalds' house. The furniture was the same, the pictures were similar and similarly placed, and the small kitchen just visible beyond might have housed the Donald flowered plates or the Desmond pressure cooker. Harriet sat down in an overstuffed chair that looked comfortably familiar, while Virginia went over to the window and said, “Look, how far down. Harriet, come look.”

The Chinese man disappeared into the kitchen, and Harriet whispered, “Ginnie, come here,” and when Virginia came over, Harriet whispered again, “Look, how do we get out of here?”

“Look,” Virginia said firmly, standing in front of Harriet with her hands on her hips, “look, this is lots of fun. You don't have to go spoiling it all the time.”

She turned when the Chinese man came out of the kitchen carrying a tray. “I don't know,” he said as he put the tray down on a coffee table in front of the couch and busied himself with glasses, “I don't know if you young ladies are allowed to drink wine?” He looked up inquiringly, and Virginia said, “I've never had any.”

He gestured at the small bottle and the tiny thin glasses on the tray and said, “This is a very light wine, suitable for ladies.” He laughed comfortably and went on, “I know that ladies as young as you are not in the habit of drinking wine, but perhaps just a taste.” He poured a few drops into one of the tiny glasses and handed it to Virginia. When she took it she raised her eyes to him for a minute and then dropped them again, half-smiling. “I had tea ready for you on Tuesday,” he went on, “but today I had no time, of course, to get anything special.” He handed another small glass to Harriet, and she said, “Thank you,” in a very small voice. Then, in a minute, still talking, he passed her a dish of candy, and she took a piece of that and set it on the ashstand next to her, along with the little glass of wine. Her mind was not functioning, but her mouth, well-trained, said “Thank you,” automatically when someone handed her something.

Virginia tasted the wine and made a face, and Mr. Lee laughed and said, “This wine is made of rice; it is a Chinese wine.”

“It's nice,” Virginia said. She looked at Harriet and said cruelly, “My friend was afraid to come up here.”

Mr. Lee was puzzled, and said, “I don't know why. I very often have guests for tea.” He turned to Harriet and said very politely, “I hope you won't be afraid to come any more. I hope you'll come again.”

Harriet said, “Thank you,” again, almost inaudibly. After waiting for a minute Mr. Lee turned back to Virginia and said, “Do you go to school?”

Virginia made a gesture of distaste. “I don't ever think about it in the summer,” she said.

“I had to go to a school to learn English when I first came to this country,” Mr. Lee said, as though he were beginning a story.

“You speak English
awfully
well,” Virginia said. She sipped at her wine again and finished the little bit he had given her. “May I have some more?” she asked. “It's delicious.”

Mr. Lee hesitated before reaching out for her glass. “I'm not sure—” he said, and then stopped. When Virginia continued to hold out her glass, with a bright smile on her face, he took it finally and filled it with wine.

Virginia, sitting back with her full glass, said dreamily, “It must be wonderful to have a nice place like this, so high up over the street, and you just sit up here and drink wine and eat candy.”

Mr. Lee laughed and said, “I wish that were all I have to do.”

Virginia looked at the pictures on the walls and said, “Are you an artist?” and Mr. Lee laughed again and said, “No, if I had my choice I would be a writer, but as it is I do what I have to and make it as comfortable as possible.”

“What
do
you do?” Virginia asked.

Mr. Lee looked puzzled again. “I work here,” he said.

“What sort of work?”

“Why,” Mr. Lee turned his head to look at the kitchen. “I wash dishes, and mix drinks, and answer the door.”

“But is that all—” Virginia was saying, but Harriet cut in, saying abruptly, “Do you mean you're the help here?” When Virginia looked sharply at her, Harriet said, “He's the help, the maid. This isn't his place at all.”

“Did you think it was?” Mr. Lee looked at Virginia and then at Harriet. “I couldn't rent an apartment in this house,” he said. “Not in this neighborhood. They wouldn't rent an apartment to me.”

Virginia stood up. “Thank you very much,” she said, “but we'd better be going.” She put her full wine glass down very carefully on the tray.

With the realization that no harm was going to come to her, Harriet remembered her conscious manners. “You were very nice to ask us to come,” she said. “I hope you won't get into trouble for having guests up here.”

Perhaps Mr. Lee was angry with them, but he followed them politely to the door. “I am allowed to entertain my friends,” he told Harriet drily, and said to Virginia, “I'm sorry you have to leave.”

“Thank you very much,” Virginia said, and Harriet echoed, “Thank you very much.”

He closed the door after them as they went toward the elevator, and Harriet said, “I
told
you.”

“I didn't know he
worked
there,” Virginia said. “How could I know? He never told us.”

“My mother will be furious,” Harriet said. “So will yours.” She thought for a minute and then said, “If they find out.”

“Don't blame me,” Virginia said. “It's not
my
fault.”

•   •   •

When Tod Donald came across the street after lunch to see if he could get Art Roberts to go to the movies that afternoon, there was a strange girl sitting on the Roberts's front porch, and Tod stood for a minute at the foot of the walk before the girl looked up and saw him, and said, “Hi.” As Tod came slowly up the walk she watched him, and when, he came close enough she said, “You looking for someone?”