348
PARTISAN REVIEW
was buried. I was sitting in the living room in the dark, by myself,
and I suddenly thought of Sonny. My trouble made his real.
One Saturday afternoon, when Sonny had been living with
u~,
or, anyway, been in our house, for nearly two weeks, I found
myself wandering aimlessly about the living room, drinking from a
can of beer, and trying to work up the courage to search Sonny's
room. He was out, he was usually out whenever I was home, and
Isabel had taken the children to see their grandparents. Suddenly
I was standing still in front of the living room window, watching
Seventh Avenue. The idea of searching Sonny's room made me still.
I scarcely dared to admit to myself what I'd be searching for. I
didn't know what I'd do if I found it. Or if I didn't.
On the sldewalk across from me, near the entrance to a barbecue
joint, some people were holding an old-fashioned revival meeting.
The barbecue cook, wearing a dirty white .apron, his conked hair
reddish and metallic in the pale sun, and a cigarette between his
lips, stood in the doorway, watching them. Kids and older people
paused in their errands and stood there, along with some older men
and a couple of very tough-looking women who watched everything
that happened on the avenue, as though they owned it, or were
maybe owned by it. Well, they were watching this, too. The re–
vival was being carried on by three sisters in black, and a brother.
All they had were their voices and their Bibles and a tambourine.
The brother was testifying and while he testified two of the sisters
stood together, seeming to say, Amen, and the third sister walked
around with the tambourine outstretched and a couple of people
dropped coins into
it.
Then the brother's testimony ended and the
sister who had been taking up the collection dumped the coins into
her palm and transferred them to the pocket of her long black
robe. Then she raised both hands, striking the tambourine against
the air, and then against one hand, and she started to sing. And
the two other sisters .and the brother joined in.
It was strange, suddenly, to watch, though I had been seeing
these street meetings all my life. So, of course, had everybody else
down there. Yet, they paused and watched and listened and I stood
~till
at the window.
((Tis the old ship of Zion/'
they sang, and the
sister with the tambourine kept a steady, jangling beat,
((it
has rescued
