Look down into the dark hallway below. She’s there with him, the one he loves, the one I need. A door opens. The rustle of a dress as a half-glimpsed woman passes quickly down the passage, and out of the back door. Don’t move yet. Wait.He comes out more slowly, as if deep in thought. Halfway across the hallway he stops. He knows he’s watched. He looks up, and there’s wonder on his face.Come down the stairs now, holding tight to the banister, taking each step carefully.“Why, Em, you’re not well!”This is true, but it’s of no account. Reach out to him, press one hand to his arm.“Are you happy, brother?”He says, “I have no words.”“But you’re happy?”“I never knew such happiness was possible.”This is good. This is as it should be.I say, “Make me feel it.”“What can I say?” But the glow of his face speaks for him. “An explosion—of joy . . .”An explosion. Like the firing of guns. His arm trembles beneath my hand.“She loves you too, Em. She feels so close to you.”I say, “She must come closer.”He thinks I mean something else.“Will you see her?
