It was in the dark of morning that I woke to the deep free snoring of Theodore in the next room. I thought of my father. I was longing to be with him and to see again the light of laughter in his eyes. Quietly I washed and dressed. I started to go out the kitchen door and then I remembered the aluminum ladder. I went into the coffee house. Laughing softly, I lifted that ladder with one finger. I put my arm through it and carried it out.
Morning light was climbing in the east over a coil of cloud like the fallen tower of night. I carried the ladder through Lincoln Park. Sparrows gossiped among the brown leaves. I turned the corner of the alley and glanced down at our porch. I was disappointed. I had hoped that my father would be watching for me.
I carried the ladder up the porch steps. I called out a good morning and walked into the kitchen. I waited and listened. There was no sound in the house. The door of the bedroom was closed. I tapped it. I listened and tapped again.
“It’s me, Pa,” I said, opening the door.
The curtains were stirring in the breeze.
All else was still.
My father was on the floor at the foot of the bed. He looked broken. He was dressed the same as when I left him. I was gazing down at him. I started to watch for movement. I was watching until I realized that I was not really watching at all.
Carefully I stood the ladder against the wall. I went down on my knees to lift my father. Breathing deeply, I put my arms under him. It took everything in me to lift him and to stand with him. I held him in my arms. I was holding him and feeling a new strength that finally made him one with me.
I put him on the bed. I buttoned the coat of his suit and folded his hands over it. I looked at him. After a moment I went to the bathroom for a washcloth. I wiped his face and combed his hair. I kissed him on the mouth and then drew the sheet over his face.
I went across the street to tell Sophie Nowak. A kind of excitement was gathering in me. Sophie was getting ready for church. Her hat looked like a black war helmet. A red flower soared from it.
“Good morning, Paul,” she said.
“Good morning, Sophie.”
I waited a moment.
“Sophie, I think my father is dead.”
She looked sharply at me. She turned very pale. She ran out of the house. I ran after her. I was wondering why we were running. I followed her up the porch steps. She hurried through the kitchen into the bedroom. She closed the door against me.
When she came out she put her arms around me. She kissed me hard on the mouth. She was hugging me so tightly that we swayed. I wanted to stay in her arms. As though sensing it she stood away from me. She filled a glass with whiskey and gave it to me. It went flaming down into me. It was delicious.
I sat at the kitchen table while Sophie made telephone calls. I was beginning to feel a little reckless. Sophie called Doctor Fisher and the police and Nina. Doctor Fisher lived right around the corner in Grant Court. He came in a few minutes. He was carrying his black bag as though he had forgotten all about it. The shrunken dissatisfied look of him stirred laughter in me. I wanted to tell him that we meant to call him in earlier on the case. I had to bite my lip against crazy laughter. I pointed to the bedroom. I got up to follow him and he told me to wait.
The police ambulance like the paddy wagon pulled up in front of the house. A policeman hurried in. I told him the doctor was with my father. He went back to the porch and called something to the other policeman. Doctor Fisher came out of the bedroom. He saw the ambulance and waited for the policemen to come inside.
“Probably a coronary,” he said. “Three or four hours ago. You didn’t hear anything, Paul? Where was your father?”
“He was on the floor,” I said. “I didn’t spend the night here. We had a birthday party for him and then I went over to spend the night at the coffee house. I’ve been staying there awhile.”
“The police will take your father, Paul.”
“Take him where?”
“Well, the authorities have to satisfy themselves as to the cause of death. Your father had bursitis and maybe some arthritis, Paul, but he wasn’t under my care for anything really serious. Call the funeral director after while and he’ll make the necessary arrangements.”
One of the policemen asked me questions about my father. He was writing the information down. Sophie interrupted him.
“I’m putting the coffee on, Paul,” she said. “And I’ll make some eggs for you.”
“I don’t think so. Thank you, Sophie.”
“How would you like them?” she said, stolidly.
I looked at her. She was determined.
“Fried in butter,” I said. “With some dried hot pepper.”
“Where’s the pepper?”
“The pepper’s in that jar on the stove. Put the pepper in first, Sophie. It fries black and flavors the butter.”
The policeman waited. It seemed he was waiting for further word about the pepper and eggs. Finally he asked me a few more questions and then he nodded to his companion. Doctor Fisher leaned over to say he was leaving me pills to help me rest. The policemen went into the bedroom with a wheeled stretcher. They closed the door. Doctor Fisher expressed his sympathy and squeezed my hand as though to keep hold of me. Presently the bedroom door opened. The policemen were carrying my father through it. A blanket covered him. The policemen went stiffly through the kitchen and out the screen door. Doctor Fisher followed them. Sophie put the eggs in front of me. The yolks were fried solid. I hated the look of those eggs. I was running my hand around the edge of that dish. Suddenly I wanted to throw it against the wall.
After eating a little I sipped coffee and watched for Nina. I was anxious to see her. There was a kind of curiosity dark as greed in me. I was beginning to be ashamed of it when she arrived with Andy. I got up and went to her. We hugged and kissed each other.
“Oh, Paul,” she was saying. “Oh, Paul.”
She was sobbing and trembling in my arms. I nodded to Andy. His wild curly hair had gone gray at the temples. He looked like a lost child. I reached over to shake his hand.
Everyone sat down. Sophie served coffee. I put whiskey in mine. Nina wanted to know what happened after she left the house.
“Tell me everything,” she said. “Everything.”
“Everything? Pa’s dead.”
“What happened after I left here?”
“I cleaned up the house. I put things in order. We had a glass of wine and then we talked about having dinner together today.”
“How did he look? How was he acting?”
“He looked tired. But he looked nice, too. Sort of smiling.”
“Smiling? About what?”
“It was about a ladder. I kept talking about painting the house and borrowing this aluminum ladder from Theodore Ampazis. I mentioned it several times.”
“Then what?”
“Well, I wrote him this letter for his birthday. I told him about the ladder again. Last night I was leaving and he called me back. He started to say something and then he changed his mind. Maybe he was going to tell me to come home. But I don’t think so. Well, he didn’t know what to say and so he ended up asking me if Theodore really had that aluminum ladder. He was teasing me.”
“And then what happened?”
“That’s all.”
“She means today,” said Andy.
“You see what happened,” I said.
“She means all of it,” said Andy.
“I woke up early. I decided to bring the ladder to the house. I was really going to start painting this week. And there he was.”
“Where?” said Nina, softly. “Where was he?”
“On the floor. At the foot of the bed. Doctor Fisher said he died about three hours ago. It’s a couple of hours after I left him. Probably a heart attack. I remember him saying he didn’t know why his heart went on beating.”
“How did he look?” said Nina.
“The same as last night. All dressed.”
“I mean how did he look exactly?”
“Do you want to know?”
“Of course I want to know. What’s the matter with you, Paul? You ought to be ashamed of yourself.”
“I’ll tell you how he looked. He looked like he was all used up and God threw him aside.”
“Paul!”
“It’s the truth. Do you want me to lie about it? It’s what went through my mind when you asked me and I remembered him on the floor.”
“He was all alone,” she said. “O my God.’
She burst into tears. She stood up and started for his bedroom. Abruptly she turned and went into my room.
By and by the neighbors were coming to pay their respects. Some of those men strode into the kitchen as though taking command to save a ruined ship. Their eyes flashed. The word of death had filled them with strange power. Others came in a gentle whispering way. They were moving around me like men balancing on ropes. They shook my hand. It was a kind of dark precious welcome. They lingered to talk with me if I wished. They were careful not to intrude. The women came with bread and cake and pots of hot coffee. Their eyes were big with tenderness and sudden love for me. They touched my hands and my face. Several of them kissed me. Afterward they went in to comfort Nina.
I thought of Peggy. I wanted Peggy to come and see me at the heart of things. I was watching for her while listening to the talk that started in the house. I tried to follow every conversation. The words were like stones in the air.
“He looked good last night,” said Mrs. Rakowski.
“Yes, he did,” said Kroger.
“Didn’t he look all right to you?” she said.
“I thought so,” he said.
“You never know,” she said. “You never know.”
“Do you remember his wife?” he said.
“Jenny,” she said, quickly. “Her name was Jenny.”
“That’s right,” he said. “A beautiful woman.”
“Yes, she was.”
After a moment Mrs. Rakowski turned to Sophie.
“How did Carl look to you last night?” she said.
“He looked good,” said Sophie. “Carl always looked good.”
Florio was talking in the dining room.
“Carl got married,” he was saying. “He was so happy he sent for his brother in Italy. Paul is called after this brother. That man was always smiling. He agreed with everything you said. He used to put his arm through yours when he met you in the street. But he couldn’t get settled here. It’s like he was in a trance or something.”
“I think I remember him,” said Rakowski.
“You should,” said Florio. “Remember the day Carl brought him to the mill? He was going to break him in as a crane oiler. Paul was supposed to grease and oil the crane. It was only twenty minutes of work every two hours. He came in wearing a black cap like Carl. Carl bought him that cap to make him happy. Don’t you remember that day?”
“I don’t think so,” said Rakowski. “Maybe I was working nights.”
“Carl took him out on the wing of the crane. Now those wings are high. They went down to grease the winch at the end of that wing. Paul was nervous up there. He was holding Carl so tight he forgot to hold the grease bucket. He dropped it. It almost hit the fireman on the head. I think it would have killed him.”
“Who was that fireman?” said Rakowski.
“I don’t remember,” said Florio.
“Was it Joe Zawada?” said Rakowski.
“Maybe it was Joe Zawada,” said Florio. “I don’t know. What difference does it make? The bucket didn’t hit him.”
“I was trying to place when it was.”
“Well, Carl took Paul inside the crane. He showed him where to oil and where the grease cups were. And then he went down in his cabin to start up the crane. Paul was sitting upstairs and then all of a sudden the trolley was rumbling through there. And then the steam was hissing and the big cables were snapping and everything like it was going to explode. Paul went home. Carl said he remembered to take his lunch. It was his first and last day in the crane.”
“What happened to him?”
“He was here another few months. He used to wear that black cap everywhere. Carl sent him back to the old country. He was herding sheep in the mountains and then one night they found him dead up there. It’s like he fell asleep. They were saying in the village it must have been the moonlight. And he was wearing that black cap.”
I wanted to see Sam Ross. I called and told him what happened. After a while he arrived in a taxicab. He was wearing a rumpled black suit and a black leather bowtie. It was good to see the dead black of those clothes. He came to me and squeezed my hand between his own. His eyes brimmed with tears.
“I’m sorry, Paul,” he said. “I can’t tell you.”
“Thank you, Sam.”
“How are you feeling?”
“I’m not sure. I really don’t know.”
“That’s the way of it.”
“I thought it would be worse. I guess it will be.”
“Don’t be afraid.”
“I do feel kind of strong. Like someone’s going to hit me.”
He nodded and sat down beside me. We listened to the talk in the house. His eyes were troubled. He leaned close to me. He started to say something and then changed his mind.
“What is it, Sam?”
“It’s nothing important. Do you know what? I was thinking yesterday about the winter and all. I was thinking of buying a little truck and going around with fruits and vegetables. I used to have a truck in the winters. I’ll do it if you come with me, Paul.”
“Were you going to say something else?”
“It was your father,” he said. “I remembered something.”
“Tell me, Sam.”
“I was sitting here. I remember one day I was waiting for him to come from work. I was sitting right here at the kitchen table.”
“What happened?”
“Your mother, God bless her, was roasting red peppers on the stove. There was a knock at the door. Your father came in. I was wondering why he was knocking at his own door. He was wearing that black cap. I don’t even think he saw me, Paul. He took the cap off and he was looking at your mother. And then he said hello to her. It’s like he met her the day before.”
Time wore on. There was no wind to stir the clean white curtains. Smoke from cigars and cigarettes filled the room. Hour on slow hour the neighbors drifted in and out of the house. Late in the afternoon John Zalewksi stopped in for a few minutes. I stood up to shake his hand. He took my hand and didn’t let go of it.
“I’m sorry about that job,” I said.
“Forget that job,” he said.
“It was all my fault.”
“The hell with that job. And Curry, too. I’m sick of listening to him about it. I came here to pay my respects.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I liked your father. Let me know if there’s anything I can do. Let me know if you want me to act as pallbearer. I’d like to do it.”
“Thank you.”
He squeezed my hand and went out.
Toward evening the talk faltered and then ceased in the house. The day would last forever and yet it seemed there was nothing more to be said in the world. The women started to put the house in order. They washed the dishes and swept the floors. They were asking me sharp little questions as though to keep hold of me.
“Paul,” said Mrs. Rakowski. “What should I do with this ham?”
“Please put it in the refrigerator.”
“It should be wrapped first. Is there any wax paper here?”
“The wax paper’s in the cupboard. See it there?”
This talk seemed an excellent thing to me. I was eager and precise. I answered one question and waited for another.
“Where does this chair go, Paul?” said Mrs. Kroger.
“That chair goes in the cellar,” I said. “I brought it up last night for the party.”
“It’s funny. Were these legs cut short or something?”
“My father cut that chair down for my mother. She used to sit in that chair when she changed us. Or when she nursed us.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes, Mrs. Kroger.”
I wanted to say more about that chair. She sensed it and waited. We were looking at each other.
“That chair can be left up here for the time being,” I said.
“All right, Paul.”
She was still looking at me.
“I might want to sit in that chair,” I said.
“All right, Paul.”
At last the house was in order. Talk ceased again. Outside it was dark. The silence seemed to be growing around us like the night. Suddenly the house was split by a sob from Nina in the bedroom. There were hushed words from Andy and Sophie. Nina was crying softly.
Now the neighbors made ready to leave. The women looked around with a kind of satisfaction. There was nothing more to be done. The men came to me and offered to act as pallbearers. Afterward they moved closer to their women. They were filled with care and watchfulness. Presently they went away. I had the strange feeling that I would hear sudden big shouts of yes and yes in the night.
Andy led Nina into the kitchen. Sophie followed them. Nina burst into tears again. She hugged me and kissed me. She wanted me to come and stay with her. She begged me to do it.
“I’ll stay here,” I said.
“But I want you with me,” she said.
“Please, Nina. I want to be here.”
“Don’t worry about the arrangements,” said Andy.
“What arrangements?” I said.
“The funeral arrangements,” he said. “I called the funeral director. He’ll take care of everything. We’ll be here early tomorrow morning. Try to get some rest, Paul.”
They left.
Sophie put a pot of coffee on the stove. She sat at the table across from me. We looked at each other. My father was right when he said her face was like a cauliflower. As though for the first time I remembered that her husband was dead and that her married son had moved to Los Angeles. I was anxious to know about them. I started to ask questions. It pleased Sophie to talk about her family. I listened for every word and yet I could grasp the meaning of none of it. A moment later there would be another question popping out of my mouth. I leaned forward to listen to her. It seemed I was sinking through black still water lit here and there by the gleaming senseless details of her life.
She served the coffee.
“Will you eat something, Paul?”
“I’ve been nibbling all day. Maybe I’ll have some whiskey.”
“I’ll get it for you. Are you staying here tonight?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll spend the night with you if it’s all right.”
“It’s very nice of you.”
She filled a glass with whiskey. I swallowed it in one gulp. It was raw and blinding. It was so good that I filled the glass again.
“That’s enough,” she said, sharply, taking the bottle.
I drained the second glass. It seemed to burn me clean inside. I sipped coffee. I was feeling reckless again.
“I’ll get some things,” she said. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
“Good. I’ll fix my bed for you.”
That whiskey went to my head. Everything was spinning around me by the time Sophie returned. I told her I was going out for a walk. She took my hand.
“Are you all right, Paul? Tell me now.”
“I’m all right.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, Sophie.”
“I’ll wait up for you.”
I kissed her and went out.
Night seemed to be waiting for me. I walked out of Lincoln Court. The mills below were like the smoking ruins of an entire city. I walked faster and faster. Terrible excitement was growing in me. All at once I was running again. I ran around the block and past the coffee house. I ran up to Lincoln Park and sank down on the grass under the trees. My heart was pounding. I lay there looking at the moon and stars. A cold blue star winked below the moon. I closed my eyes against that star. Suddenly everything was spinning around me until it seemed by the awful beat of my heart that the earth itself had slipped from the hand of God and was falling in the night, unremembered.