I sat on the top step of the porch. Across the street another porch looked back. There was an old sofa leaning against the railing. A tired woman stood in the door, watching, wiping slowly at the glass with a striped towel. Her face was the color of my favorite chocolate. In front of the house, four boys and a girl in a long red dress flipped coins on the grass. The girl turned pages in a fat, yellow paperback and read out a line.

“Figarty’s nuts!” Rennel was protesting. “He’s flat fucking nuts! He’s a paranoid schizophrenic with pronounced manic periods. He’s a drug addict, he fucks his male students, and his brains are liable to start dribbling out his ears any minute!”

From far down the block people were still coming, wearing their wild colors. The steady “Om” grew even louder over the din.

Sam sat down beside me on the step. “The food’s all ready. I haven’t got enough chopsticks to go around. I didn’t know there’d be so many people.”

He glanced around at the party until he found Carlotta, who was flirting with the bongo player. She tied a thin scarf around her hair. Her arms were long and strong, and I spied a thick black tuft of hair in her pits.

A fat black car stopped in the street. Figarty jumped out, shaking his bells, followed by four students in dungarees. His belly bounced; he’d finally taken off his shirt. The music was suddenly faster and louder. The “Om”-ing carried on, but deeper, more intense. Rennel stood up and faced a new group of people. Probably nobody ever fingered their crotch more ostentatiously.

Figarty grinned around at everyone and gave his bells a tentative tinkle. “Anybody home?”

Sam jumped up.

“Are you Omar? Aren’t we all solemn today. Got any beer? I knew we should have stopped for some beer.”

Figarty patted Sam’s shoulder and moved past him toward the house. He flopped beside me on the step and looked around.

“Are you hungry?” Sam asked. “Supper’s ready.”

“That’s great! All they had at the faculty do was sherry and pretzels.” His laugh was big and silly. “I ask you, why are all those old soaks in the English department sipping and crossing their legs at me. At me!”

Sam went inside. I was afraid Figarty would say something to me directly, so I stood up and walked off. Soon Sam came out of the house with a steaming tin bucket and an empty tin can. Clancy stumbled behind him with an armload of chopsticks and a pile of assorted plates: paper, pottery, tinfoil.

“Supper!”