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Falconer+-+John+Cheever

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Falconer 100<br />

beaches and graves and other matters he had unearthed in seeking<br />

the meaning of his friendship, he had completely overlooked the<br />

conspiratorial thrill of seeing his beloved escape.<br />

Tiny called the lockup for eight and made the usual jokes about<br />

beauty sleep and meat-beating. He said, of course, that he wanted<br />

his men to look beautiful for the cardinal. He pulled the light<br />

switch at nine. The only light was the television. Farragut went to<br />

bed and to sleep. The roar of the toilet woke him and then he<br />

heard thunder. At first the noise pleased and excited him. The<br />

random explosions of thunder seemed to explain that heaven was<br />

not an infinity but a solid construction of domes, rotundas and<br />

arches. Then he remembered that the flier had said that in case of<br />

rain the ceremony would be canceled. The thought of a<br />

thunderstorm inaugurating a rainy day deeply disturbed him.<br />

Naked, he went to the window. This naked man was worried. If it<br />

rained there would be no escape, no cardinal, no nothing. Have<br />

pity upon him, then; try to understand his fears. He was lonely.<br />

His love, his world, his everything, was gone. He wanted to see a<br />

cardinal in a helicopter. Thunderstorms, he thought hopefully,<br />

could bring in anything. They could bring in a cold front, a hot<br />

front, a day when the clearness of the light would seem to carry<br />

one from hour to hour. Then the rain began. It poured into the<br />

prison and that part of the world. But it lasted only ten minutes.<br />

Then the rain, the storm, swept mercifully off to the north and just<br />

as swiftly and just as briefly that rank and vigorous odor that is<br />

detonated by the rain flew up to and above where Farragut stood<br />

at his barred window. He had, with his long, long nose, responded<br />

to this cutting fragrance wherever he had been—shouting,<br />

throwing out his arms, pouring a drink. Now there was a trace, a<br />

memory, of this primitive excitement, but it had been cruelly<br />

eclipsed by the bars. He got back into bed and fell asleep, listening<br />

to the rain dripping from the gun towers.

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