PARTISAN REVIEW
"Yes."
"All right."
"Goodbye."
"Bye."
373
His father's footsteps descended the carpeted stairs, started acrOS'l
the hardwood foyer, and then stopped, hesitating. The third
per–
son left the room. His footsteps, decisive and rapid now, went on
across the foyer to the front door: the knob turning, the door swing–
ing in, a key being inserted, footsteps, the door being pulled to, the
slam of the latch, the key withdrawn. Silence. The silence spread
through the house, gathered in Owen's room, and rested above
him
like a living presence. Just as he made a resolve to stay awake, an
array of brilliant colors erupted in front of his eyes and flowed
u~
ward as though from a fountain, fanning out toward the periphery
into faint streaks that dimmed and descended, lowering
him
into
sleep.
His
waking was abrupt. He believed it was a dream. He was in
the cabin and his nostrils were filled with the sewery smell. He was
suffocating. He tried to rise up but something heavy covered him.
His
head ached. There was no air. He made a last effort to roll
over on his back, and freed his head from the tangled covers. The
air was chilly against his perspiring face.
"Dad?"
OWEN tossed aside the passport, got up from the studio couch
and crossed to the window.
It
was Saturday night. Owen's apart–
ment was on the second floor, and through the bars of the fire escape
landing outside his window he watched the weekend crowd - girls
with long hair dressed in short skirts and jeans, bearded men, men
in suits, tourist couples, and teenagers - move in a press down Sul–
livan Street. A Puerto Rican delivery boy, holding a flat box of pizza
aloft, traveling at twice the speed of the crowd, threaded his way
among the people almost in a dance step, and passed beneath Owen's
window whistling a Latin song. Owen would have given his right
hand, his body and soul, to be him. He turned back to his room.
Dust had gathered, the bed was unmade, there were some charred
logs in the fireplace that had been left by the previous resident, and
the only chair in the apartment, a wooden chair with a broken leg,
