Page 167 of I Am the Messenger

With Ritchie in the river.

With Marv at the swings.

And dancing with Audrey in the silent fire of morning.

"Where now?" I ask when we return to my place.

"Get out," he tells me, and now I can't help it.

I say, "It was you, wasn't it? You robbed the bank knowing that--"

"Oh, could you just shut up, Ed?"

We stand by the cab in the morning sun.

Methodically, he pulls something from his jacket pocket. It's a small, flat mirror.

"Remember what I told you, Ed--at my trial?"

"I remember." And for some reason, I feel a warmness in my eyes.

"Tell me."

"You said that every time I look in the mirror, I should remember I'm looking at a dead man."

"That's right."

The failed thief steps away and stands in front of me. A small smile lands on his face, and he holds the mirror up to me. I stare right into myself.

He says, "Are you looking at a dead man now?"

In a flood inside me, I see all those places and people again. I hold the kid on her porch and go by the name of Jimmy to a marvelous old woman. I watch a girl run with the most glorious bloodied feet in the world.

I laugh with the thrill on a religious man's face. I see Angie Carusso's ice-creamed lips and feel the loyalty of the Rose boys. I watch the darkness of a family lit up by the power and the glory, let my mother unleash the truth and love and disappointment of her life, and sit in a lonely man's cinema.

Looking into the mirrored glass, I stand with my friend in a river. I watch Marvin Harris push his daughter on a swing, high into the sky, and I dance with love and Audrey for three minutes straight....

"Well?" he asks again. "Are you still looking at a dead man?"

This time, I answer.

I say, "No," and the criminal speaks.

"Well, it was worth it, then...."

He went to jail for those people.

He went to jail for me, and now he walks away with a few last words.

"Goodbye, Ed--I think you'd better get inside."

And he's gone.

Just like Daryl and Keith, I will never see him again.

As calmly as I can, I walk inside. My front door was open.

On my couch there sits a young man who pats the Doorman very quietly and happily.