Don't cry, I said, by putting my fingers on my face and pushing imaginary tears up my cheeks and back into my eyes.

Don't cry, I said, by putting my fingers on my face and pushing imaginary tears up my cheeks and back into my eyes. was angry because they were my tears. told him, You're only getting magazines. e showed me his left hand. tried to notice everything, because I wanted to be able to remember it perfectly. I've forgotten everything important in y life. can't remember what the front door of the house I grew up in looked like. Or who stopped kissing first, me or my sister. r the view from any window but my own. Some nights I lay awake for hours trying to remember my mother's face. He turned around and walked away from me. I went back up to the apartment and sat on the sofa waiting. Waiting for what? I can't remember the last thing my father said to me. He was trapped under the ceiling. The plaster that covered him was turning red. He said, I can't feel everything. I didn't know if he'd meant to say he couldn't feel anything. He asked, Where is Mommy? I didn't know if he was talking about my mother or his. I tried to pull the ceiling off him. He said, Can you find my glasses for me? I told him I would look for them. But everything had been buried. I had never seen my father cry before. He said, With my glasses I could be helpful. I told him, Let me try to free you. He said, Find my glasses. They were shouting for everyone to get out. The rest of the ceiling was about to collapse. I wanted to stay with him. But I knew he would want me to leave him. I told him, Daddy, I have to leave you. Then he said something. It was the last thing he ever said to me. I can't remember it. In my dream, the tears went up his cheeks and back into his eyes. I got up off the sofa and filled a suitcase with the typewriter and as much paper as would fit. I wrote a note and taped it to the window. I didn't know whom it was for. I went from room to room turning off the lights. I made sure none of the faucets were dripping. I turned off the heat and unplugged the appliances. I closed all the windows. As the cab drove me away, I saw the note. But I couldn't read it because my eyes are crummy. In my dream, painters separated green into yellow and blue. Brown into the rainbow. Children pulled color from coloring books with crayons, and mothers who had lost children mended their black clothing with scissors. I think about all of the things I've done, Oskar. And all of the things I didn't do. The mistakes I've made are dead to me. But I can't take back the things I never did. I found him in the international terminal. He was sitting at a table with his hands on his knees. I watched him all morning. He asked people what time it was, and each person pointed at the clock on the wall. I have been an expert at watching him. It's been my life's work. From my bedroom window. From behind trees. From across the kitchen table. I wanted to be with him. Or anyone. I don't know if I've ever loved your grandfather. But I've loved not being alone. I got very close to him. I wanted to shout myself into his ear. I touched his shoulder. He lowered his head. How could you? He wouldn't show me his eyes. I hate silence. Say something. He took his pen from his shirt pocket and the top napkin from the stack on the table. He wrote, You were happy when I was away. How could you think that? e are lying to ourselves and to each other. ying about what? I don't care if we're lying. am a bad person. don't care. I don't care what you are. can't. hat's killing you? e took another napkin from the stack. e wrote, You're killing me. nd then I was silent. e wrote, You remind me. I put my hands on the table and told him, You have me. e took another napkin and wrote, Anna was pregnant. told him, I know. She told me. ou know? didn't think you knew. She said it was a secret. I'm glad you know. e wrote, I'm sorry I know. t's better to lose than never to have had. lost something I never had. ou had everything. hen did she tell you? e were in bed talking. e pointed at, When. ear the end. hat did she say? he said, I'm going to have a baby. as she happy? he was overjoyed. hy didn't you say anything? hy didn't you? n my dream, people apologized for things that were about to happen, and lit candles by inhaling. have been seeing Oskar, he wrote. know. ou know? f course I know. e flipped back to, Why didn't you say anything? hy didn't you? he alphabet went z, y, x, w ... The clocks went tock-tick, tock-tick... He wrote, I was with him last night. That's where I was. I buried the letters. What letters? The letters I never sent. Buried them where? In the ground. That's where I was. I buried the key, too. What key? To your apartment. Our apartment. He put his hands on the table. Lovers pulled up each other's underwear, buttoned each other's shirts, and dressed and dressed and dressed. I told him, Say it. When I saw Anna for the last time. Say it. When we. Say it! He put his hands on his knees. I wanted to hit him. I wanted to hold him. I wanted to shout myself into his ear. I asked, So what happens now? I don't know. Do you want to go home? He flipped back to, I can't. Then you'll go away? He pointed at, I can't. Then we are out of options. We sat there. Things were happening around us, but nothing was happening between us. Above us, the screens said which flights were landing and which were taking off. Madrid departing. Rio arriving. Stockholm departing. Paris departing. Milan arriving. Everyone was coming or going. People around the world were moving from one place to another. No one was staying. I said, What if we stay? Stay? Here. What if we stay here at the airport? He wrote, Is that another joke? I shook my head no. How could we stay here? I told him, There are pay phones, so I could call Oskar and let him know I'm OK. And there are paper stores where you could buy daybooks and pens. There are places to eat. And money machines. And bathrooms. Even televisions. Not coming or going. Not something or nothing. Not yes or no. My dream went all the way back to the beginning. The rain rose into the clouds, and the animals descended the ramp. Two by two. Two giraffes. Two spiders. Two goats. Two lions. Two mice. Two monkeys. Two snakes. Two elephants. The rain came after the rainbow. As I type this, we are sitting across from each other at a table. It's not big, but it's big enough for the two of us. He has a cup of coffee and I am drinking tea. When the pages are in the typewriter, I can't see his face. In that way I am choosing you over him. I don't need to see him. I don't need to know if he is looking up at me. It's not even that I trust him not to leave. I know this won't last. I'd rather be me than him. The words are coming so easily. The pages are coming easily. At the end of my dream, Eve put the apple back on the branch. The tree went back into the ground. It became a sapling,