The Tenants of Moonbloom
Page 23
Then, suddenly, a rosy glow suffused the new white plaster, and they were done and it was morning. Basellecci stood with a beatific expression on his wasted face, and the other three admired with him the straight gleaming wall.
“It is done,” Basellecci said with a serene smile. “What more could I have asked?”
And the other three looked at him and at each other, smiled, and put things away. One by one they left the apartment, while Basellecci sat gazing at the transfigured wall, and his coffee boiled on the stove.
Outside was a wonder. The sun shone on the snow and made everything too brilliant to see. They parted, and Norman walked by himself, scabrous and weary. The air was warm, and already a dripping came from the roofs and drainpipes. There was a scent of earth.
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In his office he sat happily, waiting for Irwin. As he waited, he noticed that the last letter of his name had now been totally scraped away. Somehow it freed the word, opened it up so that the o’s bubbled out endlessly, carried the crooning sound of the name out to an infinite note of ache and joy. It thrilled him with his own endlessness, and, almost laughing, he followed its course.
Moonbloooo-ooo . . .