ability. Despairing in
their own minds for a while, until they can come to terms with the life
that lies ahead. And each, in their private thoughts on this Valentine"s
Day, wonders briefly if it should go on.
If they should go on.
Torturing each other unexpectedly, indefinitely. ı
“Cabe,” she says.
“Yes?”
“You know what always makes me feel better?”
He thinks a moment. “Milk?”
“Besides milk.”
“What?”
“When you hold me. Tightly. Squeeze my body like you can"t let go. Or
lie on top of me.”
He"s quiet. “Serious?”
“I wouldn"t joke about that. There"s something about the pressure on my
body that helps the numbness go away.” She waits. Hopes she doesn"t
have to ask him point-blank.
She doesn"t.
DURBIN DAZE
February 15, 2006, 8:04 p.m.
Janie pulls into Mr. Durbin"s driveway.
Cabel"s parked half a block away with a pair of binoculars and a view
through the side window of the great room.
Baker and Cobb are stationed.
Janie"s not wired.
No one expects anything to happen.
Not quite yet.
Mr. Durbin"s too smart to ruin it.
ı
She grabs her books and walks to the front door. Rings the bell. He opens the door. Not too quickly. Not slowly, either. Invites her inside.
She takes off her coat and hands it to him. She"s wearing jeans and a
low-cut, see-through shirt with a camisole underneath—an ensemble that
wouldn"t be allowed in school.
He"s wearing sweatpants and a U of M T-shirt.
Sweating.
“Just got done working out,” he says, draping a towel around his shoulders. He shows her to the kitchen table.
“Great house,” she says. “Perfect for a party.”
“Which is why I bought it,” he says. “I like having a place for the students to kick back and crash now and then.” He grabs a bottle of
water, offers her one, and says, “You get organized. I"m going to take a
three-minute shower. Be right back.”
Janie rolls her eyes as he walks out, and then suddenly realizes. He"s gone.
She glides through the main floor, checking things out. She hears the
shower running.
Two bedrooms and a bath down the hallway off the great room. An
office beyond the kitchen area, with all sorts of science-type chemical
charts and books and bottles. And a master suite, which is where he"s
showering. She peeks in quickly. It"s a large room with a king-size bed
and a few items of clothing strewn around. On the bedside table, a porn
magazine.
She moves quickly back to the kitchen table when she hears the water
shut off, and she"s sitting there, looking engrossed in her notes, when he
returns. Now he"s wearing jeans and a white T-shirt, à la James Dean.
All he needs is a cigarette.
He moves through the great room, closing blinds. Janie cringes internally, knowing that Cabel must be bristling right now. But Cabe
promised Captain he"d be under control, and he knows he"s not allowed
to be on the case if he"s not this way—he"s too close to it. Janie thinks
he"ll stay put.
“Okay, kid, what seems to be the problem?” Durbin asks as he walks
back toward the table. He sits in the chair next to her, running his fingers
through his wet hair.
“Kid?” She laughs. “I"m eighteen.”
“S"cuse me. What was I thinking. Ahhh,” he says, leaning in to see her
notes. “Poisonous gases.” He rubs his hands together gleefully.
“How
exciting, eh?”
She turns and gives him a look. “Well, it"s interesting. But I don"t understand how this”—she points with her pencil—“leads to this. It
doesn"t make sense.”
“Hrm,” he says, and draws the pencil from her fingers slowly.
“Let"s
start from the beginning.”
He flips the paper over and scribbles equations expertly on the back side.
Whistles lightly under his breath as he goes. Janie leans in, as if to see
better, an inch at a time, until he"s slowing his pencil. Making a mistake or two.
Erasing.
Shifting in his seat.
She stops moving, and she"s nodding slightly. Fully, completely, overwhelmingly
their own minds for a while, until they can come to terms with the life
that lies ahead. And each, in their private thoughts on this Valentine"s
Day, wonders briefly if it should go on.
If they should go on.
Torturing each other unexpectedly, indefinitely. ı
“Cabe,” she says.
“Yes?”
“You know what always makes me feel better?”
He thinks a moment. “Milk?”
“Besides milk.”
“What?”
“When you hold me. Tightly. Squeeze my body like you can"t let go. Or
lie on top of me.”
He"s quiet. “Serious?”
“I wouldn"t joke about that. There"s something about the pressure on my
body that helps the numbness go away.” She waits. Hopes she doesn"t
have to ask him point-blank.
She doesn"t.
DURBIN DAZE
February 15, 2006, 8:04 p.m.
Janie pulls into Mr. Durbin"s driveway.
Cabel"s parked half a block away with a pair of binoculars and a view
through the side window of the great room.
Baker and Cobb are stationed.
Janie"s not wired.
No one expects anything to happen.
Not quite yet.
Mr. Durbin"s too smart to ruin it.
ı
She grabs her books and walks to the front door. Rings the bell. He opens the door. Not too quickly. Not slowly, either. Invites her inside.
She takes off her coat and hands it to him. She"s wearing jeans and a
low-cut, see-through shirt with a camisole underneath—an ensemble that
wouldn"t be allowed in school.
He"s wearing sweatpants and a U of M T-shirt.
Sweating.
“Just got done working out,” he says, draping a towel around his shoulders. He shows her to the kitchen table.
“Great house,” she says. “Perfect for a party.”
“Which is why I bought it,” he says. “I like having a place for the students to kick back and crash now and then.” He grabs a bottle of
water, offers her one, and says, “You get organized. I"m going to take a
three-minute shower. Be right back.”
Janie rolls her eyes as he walks out, and then suddenly realizes. He"s gone.
She glides through the main floor, checking things out. She hears the
shower running.
Two bedrooms and a bath down the hallway off the great room. An
office beyond the kitchen area, with all sorts of science-type chemical
charts and books and bottles. And a master suite, which is where he"s
showering. She peeks in quickly. It"s a large room with a king-size bed
and a few items of clothing strewn around. On the bedside table, a porn
magazine.
She moves quickly back to the kitchen table when she hears the water
shut off, and she"s sitting there, looking engrossed in her notes, when he
returns. Now he"s wearing jeans and a white T-shirt, à la James Dean.
All he needs is a cigarette.
He moves through the great room, closing blinds. Janie cringes internally, knowing that Cabel must be bristling right now. But Cabe
promised Captain he"d be under control, and he knows he"s not allowed
to be on the case if he"s not this way—he"s too close to it. Janie thinks
he"ll stay put.
“Okay, kid, what seems to be the problem?” Durbin asks as he walks
back toward the table. He sits in the chair next to her, running his fingers
through his wet hair.
“Kid?” She laughs. “I"m eighteen.”
“S"cuse me. What was I thinking. Ahhh,” he says, leaning in to see her
notes. “Poisonous gases.” He rubs his hands together gleefully.
“How
exciting, eh?”
She turns and gives him a look. “Well, it"s interesting. But I don"t understand how this”—she points with her pencil—“leads to this. It
doesn"t make sense.”
“Hrm,” he says, and draws the pencil from her fingers slowly.
“Let"s
start from the beginning.”
He flips the paper over and scribbles equations expertly on the back side.
Whistles lightly under his breath as he goes. Janie leans in, as if to see
better, an inch at a time, until he"s slowing his pencil. Making a mistake or two.
Erasing.
Shifting in his seat.
She stops moving, and she"s nodding slightly. Fully, completely, overwhelmingly
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