Gone for Good

13

I didn't have to call Katy back.

The ring hit me like a cattle prod. My sleep had been so deep, so total and dreamless, there could be no slow swim to the surface. One moment I was drowning in the black. The next I jolted upright, heart racing. I checked the digital clock: 6:58 A.M.

I groaned and leaned over. The caller ID was blocked. A useless contraption. Everyone you'd want to avoid or who'd wanted to hide simply paid for the block.

My voice sounded too awake in my own ears as I chirped a merry "Hello?"

"Uh, Will Klein?"

"Yes?"

"It's Katy Miller." Then, as if an afterthought, "Julie's sister."

"Hi, Katy," I said.

"I left a message for you last night."

"I didn't get in until four in the morning."

"Oh. I guess I woke you up then."

"Don't worry about it," I said.

Her voice sounded sad and young and forced. I remembered when she was born. I did a little math. "You're, what, a senior now?"

"I start college in the fall."

"Where?"

"Bowdoin. It's a small college."

"In Maine," I said. "I know it. It's an excellent school. Congratulations."

"Thanks."

I sat up a little more, trying to think of a way to bridge the silence. I fell back on the classics: "It's been a long time."

"Will?"

"Yes?"

"I'd like to see you."

"Sure, that would be great."

"How about today?"

"Where are you?" I asked.

"I'm in Livingston," she said. Then added, "I saw you come by our house."

"I'm sorry about that."

"I can come to the city if you want."

"No need," I said. "I'll be out visiting my father today. How about we hook up before that?"

"Yeah, okay," she said. "But not here. You remember the basketball courts by the high school?"

"Sure," I said. "I'll meet you there at ten."

"Okay."

"Katy," I said, switching ears. "I don't mind telling you that this call is a little weird."

"I know."

"What do you want to see me about?"

"What do you think?" she replied.

I did not answer right away, but that did not matter. She was already off the line.