Hanging Time

16

The phone rang. It was seven in the morning. A thick fog blanketed the street and Jason’s head. It always took him a half hour to wake up, and he wasn’t there yet. His second cup of coffee sat on the counter in front of him, black as ink. He had forgotten to buy milk for the third straight day.

He yawned and picked up on the second ring. “Dr. Frank.”

“Hi, it’s Charles. Sorry I didn’t get back to you last night. I was out late. What’s up?”

Jason snapped into focus. “Just wanted to thank you for Sunday. Great day. Congratulations on the house, it’s really something.”

“Glad you like it. We hope you’ll come out often. You know Brenda thinks the world of you.”

“I think the world of her, too. Listen, ah, about your architect, Milicia.”

Charles laughed. “So that’s what’s up, you old rogue. I should have known.”

“Just wanted to know what your take on her is,” Jason said.

“Since when do you need that?”

“She’s building a house for you, Charles. You’ve been working closely with her for some time.…”

“Over a year.”

Could have fooled me, Jason thought. He hadn’t heard a word about it until the house was half up.

“So?” Jason prompted.

“So she’s a beautiful and talented girl. Go for it, you old dog.”

“That’s what you always say.” The last thing Jason was was a dog, but he didn’t want to explore the subject with Charles. “Aside from looks and talent, what do you think of her?”

“I don’t really know her that well.” Charles paused. “She’s certainly powerful. Gets what she wants … There is something about her that’s—”

“What?”

“I don’t know, a little offputting. Something that doesn’t quite fit.”

“Oh?” That was interesting. “Like the way she dresses, the way she acts?”

“No, not the way she dresses. She is one of those phallic women though. Go for it.”

“Same old Charles. So what doesn’t fit?”

“Hmmm, research, old pal? Or something bothering you about her?”

“Call it research, Charles. What about the way she thinks?”

“No, it’s not her behavior, and not the way she thinks. I can’t put my finger on it. It’s just a feeling.”

“Thanks.”

“Have I helped you?” Charles sounded doubtful.

“Oh, yeah, you’ve helped me.”

“Well, good luck, and let’s get together soon.” Charles rang off.

The inky coffee was cold. Jason poured it down the sink and tightened the knot on his tie. It was a nice deep blue with red French horns on it, the first tie Jason’s fingers had touched when he reached in the closet for his tie rack that morning.

He rinsed out the coffee cup and left it in the sink. His stomach growled. He ignored it. He was thinking that Charles always knew what was off about somebody. His not being sure about Milicia might mean simply that Charles couldn’t relate to the powerful aspect of her. But the concept of falseness might come from the woman herself. It was something to think about. The carriage clock on the hall table chimed the hour. It was fifteen minutes late. Jason sighed. He didn’t have time to go out and get milk before his first patient showed up at seven-thirty.