Comedy of Erinn by Celia Bonaduce Page B

weeks . . . that is, if she could continue to get the equipment up and down the stairs. She spotted her precious east-facing window. The shades were drawn, and it would be dark outside anyway, but she went to the window and drew back the curtain. It took a while for Erinn’s eyes to adjust to the darkness outside. And then she realized she was looking at a brick wall. If she stretched all the way out, she could almost touch it. She was in a sixth-floor walk-up with a ton of equipment . . . and there would be no sunrises.
    Unpacking took close to an hour. She got her clothes out of the suitcase and into the chest of drawers and closet in ten minutes, and spent the rest of the time setting up her command post. In her mind’s eye, her desk faced the eastern morning light, where she would drink coffee and set up the day’s schedule . . . but clearly, she was not going to glean any inspiration from the brick wall out her window. On the bright side, the suite was amazingly light and airy, so Erinn set up the dining room with a computer, printer, history and tour books. She staged the camera equipment, batteries, chargers, and lights on the desk.
    Surveying the rooms, she felt she was BATTLEready! She went into the bathroom and started the tub. Erinn had been dreaming of a long, hot soak in the tub since she’d gotten off the plane. The water rushing into the bathtub was loud, but not loud enough to drown out the sound of the room phone ringing. She came out of the bathroom, but couldn’t locate the phone. It had been on the desk, but she had deemed it superfluous and stashed it out of the way. Now she couldn’t find the damn thing. She jumped facedown on the mattress and hung over the edge of the bed, looking underneath. Many dust bunnies, no phone. With the blood rushing to her head, the pressure pulsing behind her eyes, she groped wildly under the bed. The phone stopped ringing. Erinn lay back on the mattress, trying to let the blood settle back in her body.
    Her cell phone rang. Thankfully, it was in her pocket. Without opening her eyes, she answered it.
    â€œHello?”
    â€œHey,” Gilroi said. “I rang your room. But I didn’t get an answer. It just went dead.”
    â€œWhat went dead?”
    â€œThe phone.”
    â€œA phone can’t go dead,” Erinn said. “It’s not a living, breathing thing. It merely stopped ringing.”
    â€œErinn, you know that expression, ‘Never apologize, never explain’?”
    â€œOf course I do . . . Edwin Milton Royle.”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œEdwin Milton Royle wrote that in nineteen sixteen in his novel Peace and Quiet .”
    â€œUh . . . really? ’Cause I think you might be wrong.”
    Erinn tried to stifle a giggle. She might be wrong ?
    â€œOh really?” she asked.
    â€œYeah . . . because John Wayne said it in the nineteen forty-nine film She Wore a Yellow Ribbon .”
    Erinn had forgotten that Gilroi’s point of reference was either the movie theater or Broadway theater.
    â€œWell, whoever said it, what about it?” Erinn asked.
    â€œMaybe you should practice the ‘never explain’ part.”
    Erinn sat up.
    â€œWhat can I do for you, Gilroi?”
    â€œOh, well, I was wondering if you ordered oxygen tanks for those of us you so thoughtfully stored on the upper floors of this relic .”
    â€œYou’re only on the third floor!”
    â€œThere’s no elevator! What were you thinking?”
    Erinn was silent. Never explain? Fine.
    After a moment, Gilroi said, “Hello? Hey, Erinn . . . are you there?”
    â€œYes . . . I was just following your advice. Royle’s full quote, in case John Wayne didn’t use it in its entirety, is ‘Never apologize, never explain. Get it over with and let them howl.’ I’m letting you howl.”
    Gilroi laughed.“Darling, you are so adorable,” Gilroi said. “Listen, I didn’t actually