December 3. i954 SCARLET AND BLACK

Page Five

 

tilt ow MAN DIES

By Lyn Lushel‘

A house is eiiiptiest when someone has died. Sam Larsen cased himself into his cracked
leather chair and listened to the Stillness, as tanngible as the subdued hum of voices which had
filled the house earlier that summer evening, They had all gone home now, all the people who had
dropped in to sce how be was taking it. They had perched on their straight chairs and made cons
versation about the crops, how the farmers were suffering from the effects of the drought. For
a while, he had strained to catch their words, had listened for something, some_word oi comfort,
perhtips. But they had avoided this tragedy, as though by refusing to speak or it,‘ ignoring its ex-
xslellce, they could negate its having happened. Dld they thing they could erase it from his mind
tool Soon he had let the voices merge together to the iainiliar faint buzc which kept him lrom
thinking, eoncen‘tratlng as he did on its wholeness, and not on its separate parts. _ _

These people werc his triends, the men and women he had seenjirst as babes in their
christening robes, they, whose marriages he had witnessed, and whose parents, his childhood,
friends, he had seen returned to the rich lowa soil from which they had sprung. These people]
had known lda all their lives, They had come to visit her in the long winters and had hovered:
over her in the musty bedroom where the shades were always pulled, But finally, they would
put on their hats, exchange trivialitios with Min and would leave her to him.

They did not know her as he did. He knew what they said to each other. “Poor Sam, what
a blessing it would be [or him if lda would die. To be so tied to her- never to be able to get away
except to go up to the store for a lew hours a day! And you never hear a word of complaint out
of him," They had not been With her at night, when the worst pains came. when she would feebly
tap on the iron bedstead, the one sound which never escaped him, and would rise heavily from
his bed in the room to come to her. . ‘ _

Years ago when Don lelt home to get married, she had begun to complain of the pains. She
had made him suffer with her. But, at‘ the end, though she had become almost too weak to be
brave about them, she had tried not to draw him in with her suffering, had tried to conceal it
from him. She asked him to read to her from the Bible, and he marveled at the comfort it gave,
her. He thought about their lives together. Her pain had really started, he supposed, when she was'
nineteen, he twenty, and their first child was born dead. The second lived longer, ten years. Phys-l
ical, mental, the pain was all mingled into one with her, and he could not tell where one had
begun, the other left off. But there were many good things in their life: Don, their remaining son,
and his family, for instance. The good things had come near the end, and she was, ready for the
physical pain, and ior her death. ,

And now she was gone. He had always Said, ‘1 ask only one thing out of life; that l should
outlast lda. She needs me.” And now she was dead, and the house was empty with her death, and

with the people that it had brought. ‘ 8

Eric had already opened the store when he came in the next morning. The groceries had

. been carted in and arranged, and Eric was waiting on the only customer, When he finished, he

turned to Sam, raising his voice as he always did when addressing him "Everything’s in fine

shape, Sam, just like you always wanted." Sam went into the back room to look at the ledgers.

Before he lett, he made a list of bills to be collected, and another of bills to let go a little longer.

The books were up to date. The first list was marked “paid” from top to bottom. He trowned as
he held out the other list to see it better

He cleared his throat, and called Sam
told you to let him alone. Mary was having a bab
the doctor’s bill too.” . .

.7 “I know, Sam, l know. But the child wasborn too early tliev lost it. The doc couldn't get
there, andwof course he isn‘t charging anything to take care of Mary now. Nate came into .town
last month and paid up." '

Sam nodded, slowly,
tled to wait on them: Sam puttered around awhile,
was ‘just as Eric had said; everything was in fine shape. So he went to the back door,
arette, and leaned against the wall; looking out.

“Ycu collected from Nate Karminskil I thought 1
y this month, and they couldn’t pay this and

and went into the from room. Some customers Came in ,Bl‘ld Eric hus-

 

i He always had cigarettes
laround, for salesmen and for
.his friends who stopped in. He
{hadn’t had one foiu oh, maybe
'ten years. One morning be de-
;cidcd he didn't like the taste,
and he put the half empty pack
in the desk drawer. it was still
.there, he supposed. Maybe one
gwould taste good now. lnhal-
ling the dry, bitter smoke. he
icoughed. He threw the ciga~
irette down, and stepped on it,
i it seemed like yesterday; al-
most, that Eric had come to
work for him. He had wrcnohed
his back lilting an.esppcially
heavy box, and the doctor told
him to take it easier. Eric
had been the town's jack of
all trades, always looking for,
something now. He couldn't
seem to make a go at any.
thing; farming, a filling sta—
tion, sclli g; be had tried
them all, And he had a wife
,i and children. He had taken to
i the grocery business, some-
l liow,.and had gradually learn<
1 ed all Sam knew.
i

i There was no one in the
istul‘e, now, and he wanted to
ltalk to Eric. “How would you
' [like to buy out the business?”
,he asked. “Do you have any
money saved up?"
i “Sure, Sam, 1 have some

‘ TRAINING 7//,
Ii“ 'Rbot’t > .

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money. But. damn it» what
about you? What would you
do?"

“I need a rest, I guess. a long
one. You’ve been handling
things around here lor quite
awhile. I don't see why you
shouldn’t. really take over.”

“Well, I'll need a loan.
ll know the bank will give it
lto me" It wzls as if El'ic had
lbeen planning on this all along,
‘35 if he had rehearsed the
Iwords many times. .

“I'll go home, now, it you
won't need me," Sam said.

“That’s OK. I won't

you."

Sam walked (lawn the old
dirt ‘roarl that led‘lo the
hollsl‘. This Was one of the
few llirt roads left in town, in
any tnwn. He liked it: There
was a vacant lot on the cor,
her When his granddaughter,
Rita, llﬂtl en little and int]
(mine to v
[led at Lhe llJl. often,
liczlrtled gollls used to rdze
there. RiLd lived ill .1 cit, ml
had never t-cn goals before.
He, \lotltlcrctl what she \
(ltlillg now, At the
right before they had left. she
hull said, "Colnc' see us,

IT’S OXFORD CLOTH _
lT'S BUTTON DOWN COLLAR
'lT's PINK
IT'S ARROW
IT’S $5.00
Can You Beat That for a Winning Combination!

PPM]?

E’ﬂ . a. g. .s.

need

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CLDTMN CORN El?

;.

1tAi-e you lonesome? l‘li tome
out and talk to you as soon as
I’m finished."

Grandpa, anytime you get rnlnutc."

lonesome. We‘d love to have
you come live with us, it
you'll like.”

But he had answered, “I'll
come if i can get away trom
the store. Eric will need help.
you know." NOW he thought

he‘d go stay with Rita and Don He returned to the his chair
and his Mm Nancy, [0,. awhile t and waited tor her to come. She

lbrought her sewing with her,
and worked at it as they ‘tn'ika
ed. He thought how much she
had grown up in the ’past rear.

"No, no- that‘s all right, I‘m
doing line." And he loll. the

'room.

Thev lived in a busy suburb
of Chlcago. When the train
pulled into the downtown sta- When She was in high school,
lion. thEy were all there to;she used to confide in him,
meet him. He clung to Rita’s‘sometimes, complaining how the
arm as they dodged the crowdslfolks didn't understand her,
of people and climbed the longitclling him her troubles. But
tliglits of stairs up to the strcetinow she was occupied with the
level. Nancy kept asking him if things she'd learned in college,
he wanted to rest, but he shookiand,the people she knew,there,
his head, and they went on. Don He listened, silent.

looked tired, he thought. _
Don came home ‘lhat night

When they were ln the car,llooking more tired than ever.
Don and Nancy concentratcdﬁe and Nancy were shut up in

ion Don’s driving. Rita smiled at_thc kitchen for a long time af-

him, in the back seat, and he ter dinner. Rita told him that
grabbed her hand and held it her fatherhad been having
tightly. Her arm was round, and trouble getting along with the
warm, and smooth; a voungiboss. Sam would have liked to
arm. The traffic was had and help, but when Doll and honey

Buti

1. they and stone ‘
Two ,’

funeral. ,

he sat tense, u-oiiderin where
all the cars had come l and,
what all tbcsc people had let
do that they should be in sochl
a hurry. Rita pointed will the
llandmal'ks as they rode; it was
.a ritual with them. She knew
the nanies_or the nightclubs;l
she had been to several of them,
and she told him about it: the
boys she had dated, the funny,
things they had said, lhe way
they looked. ' 1

He stopped straining to bea'r,‘

making sure the shelves were well stocked. lttana1 her voice was a pleasant become
lit a cig-‘drone which soothed him. Afribeal'. once in awhile, he caught

ter awhile she stopped laiklllg,f
and a change in her positimll
took her hand from him.

‘ Nancy fixed his favorite dishes
for supper. . .

She was a good cook, and be
late appreciatively, After theyi
‘werc finished, he sat back, as-
sured of the comfort of thisl
place. Ht: was glad he had come,’
“‘I don’t want you to treat me:
like a visitor. folks," he s’aid.i
"I just want to be one of the‘
family. You go on with what-i
ever yuu'd be doing if l weren'tI
here, and I’ll amuse myself.
Otherwise, I'll feel that I have‘
to go home.”

The next morning he 'a\voke,l
as usual, very early; it lies illstl
getting light. He lay in that
strange 'oed, looking at the rash—l
ionable wall paper that Naneyl
1had chosen, and missing tbel
appealing walls of his own bed—
lroom At home, in the winter,l
.he would get up at the crack,
iof dawn to start a fire in the}
icoal stove, so, that it would be}
lwarm tor Ida. Shc woke eal'ly,l
‘too, and they would have a‘
leisurely breakfast, often in the
dim bedroom where she spent
so much of her. time. New ‘hel
waited for the mor ’ng soundsl
iof Don's house to begin. l

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l, Rita got up early, too, tor her,

to eat with him. Then she set.
Stled him in the big arm chair
:in the living room with the pa-
ipel‘ and his glasses, and went
:off to her room to study. She
'hadn’t been able to find a Job
this summer, and was making
use of her time by taking a
couple oi correspondence
courses

The time dragged. Nancy '

was busy with her housework,
but refused his oifers oi help.
“Don‘t lie silly, bad," she said.
“You’ll wear yourselt out,
You’ve got to take it msy,
you know, a man or your
ug ' So he wandered around,
finally stopped in Rita's- room
to see how she w. doing.
She look 1 very studious in
her her mined g es, with
hooks piled high around her.
lle tip-tood up behind her
ind rubbed his bristly chin

t her neck. Annoyed,
she looked up and said,
"Ouch!” Immediately her

frown smoothed out. “Oh,
hello, dear. Did you want
something?"

 

"No, l lust came in ioi n
.. .\

lhide,

‘graveyard the next Siinda_

‘Larsen'; l

'sen,

returned to the living room, the '
tired look was gone.

The long day passed. Rita
was out with friends a good
deal of thn Iimq. Sam looked
forward-Lo the trays she stayed
home. Nancy was a quiet per-
son, happy with her own affairs.
She did not seem to know what
to do 'With him. But Rita knew/.1
Whenever she went out to mn
m‘l‘ands‘, she took him with her.
She was always there when Ji:
Seemed as if the’ dullness would
more than he c‘t‘mld

a look olirritation, a restless
motion that she "could notsquite
but then, he" might be
imagining it.

One fine day they went to
the lake, and sat for a long
time, watching the blue alid ,
-gold picture, punctuated here

[ and there with the white or

sails. He‘ like that best of all,
but he knew it was hard for
Rita to sit so still. Then he
began to talk to her. e inlk-
ed about the huge, ncxplor»
ed ,West that she had never
known, about what life was
like there when he was young.
He told her how he and Ida.
had gone 'out to Colorado to
make their fortune, and how
first_slio, and then he, had
fallen sick, how they had fie
nally come back to Iowa to
settle, with no money, the told
her about the two children
they ha'tl buried, and about
her father when he was a
little boy.‘llc told her about
was long illness. The past
was vivid to him when he
talked. He tried hard to make
.his world real to her, “You’ve
been through so much, Grmlll-
pa, and it's made you. so
wise!" she said.

Afterwards he thought about
it. Was it wise to stay here, in
a place where he was dependent
for everything upon those he
loved?

Could he expect them to keep
on loving hiio when he was so
obviously not a part oi their
life? Better to leave now, her
fore his presence became more
of a burden; to leave them to
their present. and to return to
his past. So be packed up his
things and told lllcm he was

‘going home.

a

An old man went out to the
air
tcrnoon; the lowa graveyilil in
which his lite was buried He
painfully knelt by the lambs
stone, and iw that the :resh
earth wa .till heaped .n a
mound be de hei- grare. "Ida
clled out the s-oiic.
died ltlsl. Sam Lar-
born tail. dietl Hi Ye-
aro the salt of the rt ~ but
it the salt lime loci lue >our.

.

“born 18

who ith s ill i: salad-l"
llin ll these“ ilCl ls\l Ilt' llll
dcrstood it new. and h,» pi ed.

praicd lobe ,ioiiicl to hi wast.

inlld to the only lilo nhich re

lll'tlll‘iC lo llllll.

 

