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Show 106 up above the mirros and to the grid. Hall craves a drink. He's had no sleep. What if I jump through these mirrors and hurtle down on the players, Hall asks himself crazily. Would that be some statement? Would that be like lighting myself, every day, On fire? . . . Like painting of Adorations? Hunt wonders. At work, Hall finds a man marking cards with his fingernails. He sees that Lucille, in pit #3, has wrists hatched with razor scars. He refuses to watch Jewel. They are somewhere else. They are on another plane now. They are beginning new. Hall is ashamed of and angry at his own distance. And of his observation. Once, he catches Jewel, accidentally, in the East Lounge drinking a Black Russian but he whips the camera way. At midnight, he calls her. "Where are you?" she asks. "In the lobby," Hall says. "Come down. I need to show you where -I work." "I need you here," Jewel says. Hall's breath is heavy, like drapery sucked against his lungs. Hunt feels the weight of breathing too. Leah sleeps. "This . . . let me show you this first," Hall says. Then he adds: "It's necessary." There is a stillness over the phone - which is like all the quiet in Benton Harbor. Which is like all the quiet between one home and another. Which is like the quiet of balance and decision. Hall says, and Hunt mouths the word aloud from the foolish raft of his bed in the motel room: "Please." When Jewel exits the elevator, she's thrown on a navy skirt and khaki blouse. "Where are your shoes?" Hall asks. |
