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Show C H R Y S A L I S PAGE 198 from rejecting the new heart. "I never got my strength back. I kept telling everybody,'Give me a little time, I'll get back on my feet.1 But I keep going downhill." Do you believe that you will die, Mr. Meier? You say you never expected to live forever. But do you actually believe it? In spite of what we KNOW, we continue to BELIEVE that we will last forever. That is why we continue to eat, to smile, to ask questions, to find answers, to write, to collect rocks, to get out of bed in the morning. There are photographs on the wall. Mr. Meier as a young man wearing a white carnation in his tuxedo lapel, his bride beside him. There are various pictures of babies and young children. Two of these are his grandchildren, born during these extra years. He rises, and we walk to his front door, each of us busy with our own thoughts. We walk between the old upright piano and the worn, overstuffed sofa, between the clock ticking on the coffee table and the old photographs. My tape machine hasn't been of much use this trip. He didn't give me much. I click it off, and tell him thanks. Mr. Meier looks at me, his blue eyes fasten on mine, but he does not say another word. Only his eyes speak. You lied to me, Mr Meier, you old buzzard. You are not the stone man you pretend to be. You do think of that other young |