Page 660 - A Little Life: A Novel

But he no longer drags his right leg, and because his prosthetic feet are so
well-articulated—much more so than his own feet had been—he is able to
feel the roll of his foot as it leaves the floor, the complicated, beautiful pat

of it laying itself down on the ground again, section by section.
But when he is tired, when he is desperate, he finds himself
unconsciously reverting to his old gait, with each foot landing flatly,
slabbily, on the floor, with his right leg listing behind him. And as he steps
into the elevator he forgets that his steel-and-fiberglass legs are made for
more nuance than he is allowing them, and he trips and falls. “Jude!” he
hears JB call out, and because he is so weak, for a moment everything is

dark and empty, and when he regains his vision, he sees that the flock of
people have heard JB cry out, that they are now walking in his direction. He
sees as well JB’s face above him, but he is too tired to interpret his
expression. Willem Listening to Jude Tell a Story, he thinks, and before him
appears the painting: Willem’s face, Willem’s smile, but Willem isn’t
looking at him, he is looking somewhere else. What if, he thinks, the

Willem of the painting is in fact looking for him? He has a sudden urge to
stand to the painting’s right, to sit in a chair in what would be Willem’s
sightline, to never leave that painting by itself. There is Willem, imprisoned
forever in a one-sided conversation. Here he is, in life, imprisoned as well.
He thinks of Willem, alone in his painting, night after night in the empty
museum, waiting and waiting for him to tell him a story.
Forgive me, Willem, he tells Willem in his head. Forgive me, but I have

to leave you now. Forgive me, but I have to go.
“Jude,” JB says. The elevator doors are closing, but JB reaches his arm
out to him.
But he ignores it, works himself to his feet, leans into the corner of the
elevator car. The people are very close now. Everyone moves so much
faster than he does. “Stay away from me,” he says to JB, but he is quiet.

“Leave me alone. Please leave me alone.”
“Jude,” JB says again. “I’m sorry.”
And he begins to say something else, but as he does, the elevator doors
close—and he is left alone at last.