knew where,and who cared?—and Mama was in the house, changing Mary Elizabeth. She knew Joe wouldn’t walk away when he’d been told to stay put, and so did he. She had given him a box of dominoes, his favorite box of things, and he was laying them side by side on the second step, making sure that their corners touched. Mama had counted the dots for him, showing him that some dominoes had more dots and some fewer, but Joe didn’t care about the dots except insofar as he thought they were pretty against the black of the rectangle. What he liked was seeing a whole row or, better, a bed of dominoes, all flat and straight and with no extras. It was very upsetting to lay out the bed the way it should be and still have dominoes in the box, or, worse, to lay it out and run out of dominoes while there was a space to be filled. He suspected that there was a way of knowing ahead of time whether it would turn out, but he didn’t know what that way was. He also knew that Frankie came around from time to time and took dominoes out of the box and out of the row and out of the bed, and then he would keep them, or throw them so that Joe would have to find them, or he even put them in his mouth and made them come out like a tongue when Joe asked for them. Mama only very rarely caught Frankie doing this. Whenever Joe tried to say something important about Frankie, he was told not to be a whiner. So, even though he was preoccupied with Frankie and all of the things Frankie did to him, there wasn’t anything he could think of to do about it.
He stood up and looked at his row of dominoes. It was pretty long. Joe smiled.
FRANK PRESSED HIMSELF deep into the sofa, hoping to hide sufficiently from Mama so that, when she came down the stairs from putting Joe to bed, she would not see him and so not put him to bed. He felt that a great wind was blowing inside of him, and that it would blow him right out of the bed and back down the stairs if she took him up there and laid him down. He hid as best he could, and he also made himself a little rigid—harder to pick up, and easier to protest that way.
Here she came.
And then she did look, but she only bit her lip and went into the dining room. Frank relaxed, sat forward again, and looked at all the faces. Yes, Granny Mary. Yes, Eloise. Yes, Uncle Rolf. Yes, Grandpa Otto. Yes, Oma and Opa. These and others were perfectly familiar. But in addition to them, there were Tom, who was seven, and Henrietta, who was six, and Martin, who was nine. These were his Second Cousins, according to Rosanna, and they lived very far away, in a city where there were no cows, no hogs, no chickens, and not even any horses, only tall buildings and hard roads and many, many automobiles. The Second Cousins were visiting for Thanksgiving and staying with Granny Mary.
“Oh me,” said Opa, “stuffed. How does that happen, I ask you?”
“Opa,” said Granny, “you can eat your fill of the goose or eat your fill of the pie, but not both.”
“Ja, ja, ja,” said Opa. “Still, I am stuck in my chair, never to move again.”
Mama, who had come back into the room, leaned down and kissed Opa on the top of his head, where there was no hair.
Papa said, “If we laze about like this, we’ll fall asleep. We should play a game.”
Granny said, “Something fun for the youngsters, Walter.”
Papa looked at him, Frank, and then at Mama, and Mama said, “He can stay up for a little bit.” But Frank sat quietly, knowing that Mama could change her mind at any moment.
Then he was at the kitchen table, with all the rest of them, kneeling on a chair, and Martin was on one side of him and Henrietta on the other side of him. He leaned forward, against the edge of the table. In his hand, he had a string, and the other end of the string was tied around a cork. Frank knew all about corks, because he and Joe played with corks in the bathing tub. If you pushed a cork down under the water, it would pop up, and sometimes pop
He stood up and looked at his row of dominoes. It was pretty long. Joe smiled.
FRANK PRESSED HIMSELF deep into the sofa, hoping to hide sufficiently from Mama so that, when she came down the stairs from putting Joe to bed, she would not see him and so not put him to bed. He felt that a great wind was blowing inside of him, and that it would blow him right out of the bed and back down the stairs if she took him up there and laid him down. He hid as best he could, and he also made himself a little rigid—harder to pick up, and easier to protest that way.
Here she came.
And then she did look, but she only bit her lip and went into the dining room. Frank relaxed, sat forward again, and looked at all the faces. Yes, Granny Mary. Yes, Eloise. Yes, Uncle Rolf. Yes, Grandpa Otto. Yes, Oma and Opa. These and others were perfectly familiar. But in addition to them, there were Tom, who was seven, and Henrietta, who was six, and Martin, who was nine. These were his Second Cousins, according to Rosanna, and they lived very far away, in a city where there were no cows, no hogs, no chickens, and not even any horses, only tall buildings and hard roads and many, many automobiles. The Second Cousins were visiting for Thanksgiving and staying with Granny Mary.
“Oh me,” said Opa, “stuffed. How does that happen, I ask you?”
“Opa,” said Granny, “you can eat your fill of the goose or eat your fill of the pie, but not both.”
“Ja, ja, ja,” said Opa. “Still, I am stuck in my chair, never to move again.”
Mama, who had come back into the room, leaned down and kissed Opa on the top of his head, where there was no hair.
Papa said, “If we laze about like this, we’ll fall asleep. We should play a game.”
Granny said, “Something fun for the youngsters, Walter.”
Papa looked at him, Frank, and then at Mama, and Mama said, “He can stay up for a little bit.” But Frank sat quietly, knowing that Mama could change her mind at any moment.
Then he was at the kitchen table, with all the rest of them, kneeling on a chair, and Martin was on one side of him and Henrietta on the other side of him. He leaned forward, against the edge of the table. In his hand, he had a string, and the other end of the string was tied around a cork. Frank knew all about corks, because he and Joe played with corks in the bathing tub. If you pushed a cork down under the water, it would pop up, and sometimes pop
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