“Can’t I?” His eyes aimed past Bella, seeing past the walls, past Vernon rooftops and sky. “All it takes is streetcar fare. Just a matter of fifteen cents.”
The cigarette split in half. The lighted end hit the floor and scorched the carpet. Bella stepped on the burning stub. She looked at the scattered ashes. She was sobbing without sound as she said, “Don’t throw your money away. It’s a dime and a nickel wasted. All you’ll be doing is taking yourself for a ride.”
“It’s gonna be more than that,” he said. “I’ll be going somewhere.” And then, as though Bella weren’t in the room, he said softly to himself, “She’s there, she’s waiting for me.”
“You fool,” Bella whispered. “You poor fool.”
He looked at her. There was a practical tone in his voice as he said, “I’m leaving tonight. As soon as I get home from work. Tell Lola not to cook for me. I’m gonna be in a hurry.”
Bella nodded very slowly. She gazed vacantly at the door behind him. Her lips moved automatically. “All right, I’ll tell her not to cook for you.”
He turned away from her. He opened the door and walked out of the room.
Then in his own room he was putting on his work clothes. He was thinking, Tomorrow morning it’ll be a different room, a different house, a different street. From now on everything’s gonna be different, gonna be better. His brain could taste the pleasant flavor of saying good-by to all Vernon dwellings, all Vernon faces.
There was a sound from the bed where Frank was sleeping fitfully. Turning over on his side, Frank grunted and let out a dry cough. Frank’s face was toward the window, and as the morning light hit him, he opened his eyes. He saw Kerrigan sitting in a chair near the window. Kerrigan had just finished tying a shoelace and he was sitting up straight.
Frank’s eyes were shiny. His mouth began to twitch. He lifted his head from the pillow, bracing himself on his elbows. He said, “Quit watching me.”