In our building Miss O’Hara was still listening. She had never stopped. When Meg was outside on the steps it was very quiet and I felt good that Miss O’Hara had to wait a long, long time before she heard anything. The company gave the halls and ceilings a new coat of paint, but it was still old in the building. James Sullivan got his yearly two-week vacation and they went to the Boston Common for six hours: two hours going, two hours sitting on the benches, and two hours coming back. Then they both sat on the steps, watching, and waiting.

At first I wanted to be kind because he was old and dying in a special way and I was young and ambitious. But at night, in my apartment, when I heard his dragging feet in the hall outside and knew that he would be drunk and repetitious and imposing on my privacy, I did not want to be kind any more. There were girls outside and I knew that I could have one now because that desperate look had finally gone somewhere deep inside. I was young and now I did not want to be bothered.

“Did you read about the lousy twelve per cent Social Security increase those bastards in Washington gave us?”

“No.”

He would force himself past me, trying to block the door with my body, and into the room. “When those old pricks tell me to count my blessings, I tell them, ‘You’re not one of them.’” He would seat himself at the table without meeting my eyes. “The cost of living’s gone up more than twelve per cent in the last six months.”

“I know.”

“What unmitigated bastards.”

I would try to be busy with something on my desk.

“But the Texas Oil Barons got another depletion allowance.”

“They can afford to bribe politicians,” I would mumble.

“They tax away our rainy-day dollars and give us a lousy twelve per cent.”

“It’s tough.”

He would know that I did not want to hear any more and he would know that he was making a burden of himself. It made me feel bad that it was so obvious to him, but I could not help myself. It made me feel bad that I disliked him more every time I heard a girl laugh on the street far below my window. So I would nod occasionally and say half-phrases and smile slightly at something witty he was saying for the third time. If I did not offer him a drink he would go sooner and so I gave him Coke when he hinted at how dry he was. Then, when he had finally gone, saying, “I hope I haven’t burdened you unduly,” I went to bed and hated myself.

VIII