The Night Remembers

18

At a drive-up phone, I called my apartment. Faith answered on the second ring.

“How’re you doing?” I asked.

“I was doing pretty good until I turned on the TV. Guess what my favorite soap opera is about today.”

“I don’t know.”

“You can’t guess?” She sounded wound pretty tight.

“Faith, I’m afraid I can’t guess. I’m sorry.”

“Well, what am I worried about? What am I going through? I turn on the TV set, thinking my favorite soap opera will help me get my mind off what’s happening to me — and guess what it’s about? I mean, don’t guess; that was rhetorical. I’ll tell you what it’s about. It’s about Beth dying. She just learned today that she’s got this terminal illness.” She sounded about to cry.

“It’s just a terrible coincidence is all. Turn it off and watch something else.”

“It isn’t a coincidence. Don’t you see that?”

“Then what is it?”

“A sign.”

“A sign?”

“Sure, it’s a sign. It’s telling me that I’m going to die.”

“Oh, honey, why do you do this crap to yourself? Go play with Hoyt or just watch something else.”

“Don’t start patronizing me. Just because you don’t believe in astrology and stuff.”

“It isn’t a sign,” I said. “I promise.”

She didn’t say anything for a while. A truck rumbled by. “Where are you?” she said, sounding notably calmer.

“Drive-up phone on Mount Vernon Road.”

“When are you coming home?”

“Now, I’m not sure.”

“ ‘Now’? You mean you were sure but now you’re not?”

“I was headed home when somebody started following me.”

“Somebody?”

“A private investigator named Conroy.”

“This sounds like a movie.”

“Well, it’s true. And now I’ve got to check out a couple of addresses I took from him.”

“ ‘Took’? What’s that mean?”

“Nothing important. I’ll explain when I get home.”

She was silent again. “You really don’t think it’s a sign?”

“I really don’t.”

“It’s just a coincidence?”

“One time I had a real sore throat and I went to the doctor and he told me I’d better go to a specialist and have it checked. It scared the hell out of me. That same afternoon, I went to this used bookstore where I always go and I bought a detective novel, figured that would get my mind off it, a book called Blowback. Guess what it was about?”

“What?”

“This private eye who has to have his throat examined because he may have cancer.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Swear to God.”

“You’re not just saying this to make me feel better?”

“It really happened.”

“And you didn’t see it as a sign?”

“No, I just saw it as a terrible coincidence.”

“God, I really would have freaked. I really would have.”

“Now please just go watch something else, okay? I love you, Faith, and I want you to relax. Do you understand?”

“Thanks. Really. Thanks. You’re such a good man. You really are. I don’t deserve anybody as good as you. I really don’t.”

“That’s me,” I said. “A real prize.”

We kissed into our respective receivers and hung up.