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@@@@@ A creature comes from belowdecksIt creeps to the railing, where it stares down at the girlIt is a slumped thing in a hooded red robeHair that might not be hair at all flutters dankly around a melted faceYellow hands grip splintered, punky woodThen, one lifts slowly And waves to the girl who will soon be GONE It says Come to me, child And, drowning, Tessie Eastlake thinks It's a WOMAN! She sinksAnd does she feel still-warm hands, those of her freshly dead sister, gripping her calves and pulling her down? Yes, of course Believing is also feeling Any artist will tell you so 13 - The Show i Someday, if your life is long and your thinking machinery stays in gear, you'll live to remember 685 the last good thing that ever happened to you That's not pessimism talking, just logicI hope I haven't run out of good things yet - there would be no purpose in living if I believed I had - but it's been a long time betweenI remember the last one clearlyIt happened a little over four years ago, on the evening of April fifteenth, at the Scoto GalleryIt was between seven forty-five and eight o'clock, and the shadows on Palm Avenue were beginning to take on the first faint tinges of blueI know the time, because I kept checking my watchThe Scoto was already packed - to the legal limit and probably a little beyond - but my family hadn't arrivedI had seen Pam and Illy earlier in the day, and Wireman had assured me that Melinda's flight was on time, but so far that evening there hadn't been a sign of them In the alcove to my left, where both the bar and eight of the Sunset With pictures had drawn a crowd, a trio from the local music conservatory was tinkling through a funereal version of "My Funny Valentine Mary Ire (holding a glass of champagne but sober so far) was expatiating on something artistic to an attentive little crowd 686 To the right was a bigger room, featuring a buffet On one wall in there was Roses Grow from Shells and a painting called I See the Moon; on another, three views of Duma Roa