Ronnie got up again and went to the railing to get a better look. He downed the last drop of whiskey from his glass. He was standing between me and whatever he was watching so intently. Suddenly, I heard a splash; probably, someone from the Scalia family had jumped into the pool. "Who jumped?" I asked. I didn't get an answer, and frankly, I didn't care who jumped into the pool. I was more interested in the silence, which was like a wall I kept banging on every time I tried to get closer. Tired of the fruitless attempts, I decided to go down, not because I was annoyed, but because it was clear that Ronnie wasn't really with me at all. He was imagining himself across the street, jumping into the pool with his friends.