lives, just because you’ve managed to sober up and now you feel grateful.”
I still had some bills in my hand. I held one out and said icily, “Here’s ten bucks in case you see a cab. This time of night it’s doubtful that you will, but you might get lucky. And downtown is that way. If you go left at the corner, you’ll see a McDonald’s. It’s closed, but the cabs sometimes wait for calls in the parking lot.”
He walked away without touching the money. After a few steps he halted, and without turning he said, “That woman in there, the one you brushed off? You really should go talk to her. She’s on the edge, you can tell. Go talk to her, Kelly. Then you’ll have done a good thing tonight, you can claim one very good thing.”
“I’m sorry, Tom,” I called as he walked away. “I’m sorry you think I’m that bad.”
*
Sandi looked up from her coffee. “Lose the guy? That’s too bad, sweetie.”
I swung onto the stool. Third from the left, just like last time. “That was no guy, that was a prince.”
She rocked her coffee cup. “You don’t need to stay on my account, if that’s why you’re here. It’s not as bad as it seems.”
“I can stay.”
“From the look of you, I’d say you’re in no shape to support anyone. Barely holding yourself up, aren’t you? Tough thing, to lose a guy.”
“It’s been a long day.” Down at the far end of the counter the police rose to leave. I suppose I should have sent them after Tom, told them where to find the missing prince. Cruel, really, to leave him out on the streets.
Oh well. He was a big boy.
And, like Sandi said, I’d lost him. There’d be no interview for Kit, no applause for me. And to hear him moan, maybe I really had made things worse for the peacemakers. No way I could feel good about that.
Still, the look on his face when Simone laid down that kiss. And hearing her sing in the car. This excellent T-shirt. The goofy Garland fans.
And, okay, I’m not made of stone, so I had to admit to more that would leave a print: his sweet way with the funny professor. His mysterious scent. That incredible hair, those changeable eyes. The way that he listened to me.
Yes, I’d mucked it up good, but still, no regrets. With a little bit of time, no regrets.
Sandi signaled for a coffee refill, and the motion broke into my riff. I watched as she added two packs of sugar to the cup, stirred, and sipped. She rocked on the seat and hummed to herself. I could see dried blood around her nails, where she’d picked at her cuticles. Her mascara was smeared at the edge of her eye. Her lipstick was wide and uneven. Tom was right: She was teetering.
I said, “I understand if you don’t want to talk to me, but there’s got to be someone.”
She snapped, “Don’t bother yourself worrying. I’m here, aren’t I, and not out trying to cop? That’s a victory.” She added a third sugar, stirred, and cradled the cup. A soft noise slipped out. A whispered wail, if there is such a thing. “I haven’t had to call my sponsor in such a long time. Not since Tami’s last birthday, anyway. One year. One year since the last call.”
I swiveled my seat to face her. “Sandi, you’re wrong about something. I have too listened. Okay, you’re right, I come to meetings and, sure, mostly I tune out, but I have heard you talk. And I’ve heard what you said, that you can’t wait forever for someone to forgive you. None of us can wait for that because it probably won’t ever happen.”
She snorted. “I’d be happy to forgive myself.”
“Wouldn’t we all, but how likely is that?”
Sandi tossed back the rest of her coffee, rose, and marched over to the pay phone on the wall by the register. Leo looked up from his crossword.
I warmed the stool until she started talking, then made my exit, done with the night’s one good thing. Sandi touched my shoulder as I passed.
Leo called out, “See you around.”
What was that, I wondered: a good wish or
I still had some bills in my hand. I held one out and said icily, “Here’s ten bucks in case you see a cab. This time of night it’s doubtful that you will, but you might get lucky. And downtown is that way. If you go left at the corner, you’ll see a McDonald’s. It’s closed, but the cabs sometimes wait for calls in the parking lot.”
He walked away without touching the money. After a few steps he halted, and without turning he said, “That woman in there, the one you brushed off? You really should go talk to her. She’s on the edge, you can tell. Go talk to her, Kelly. Then you’ll have done a good thing tonight, you can claim one very good thing.”
“I’m sorry, Tom,” I called as he walked away. “I’m sorry you think I’m that bad.”
*
Sandi looked up from her coffee. “Lose the guy? That’s too bad, sweetie.”
I swung onto the stool. Third from the left, just like last time. “That was no guy, that was a prince.”
She rocked her coffee cup. “You don’t need to stay on my account, if that’s why you’re here. It’s not as bad as it seems.”
“I can stay.”
“From the look of you, I’d say you’re in no shape to support anyone. Barely holding yourself up, aren’t you? Tough thing, to lose a guy.”
“It’s been a long day.” Down at the far end of the counter the police rose to leave. I suppose I should have sent them after Tom, told them where to find the missing prince. Cruel, really, to leave him out on the streets.
Oh well. He was a big boy.
And, like Sandi said, I’d lost him. There’d be no interview for Kit, no applause for me. And to hear him moan, maybe I really had made things worse for the peacemakers. No way I could feel good about that.
Still, the look on his face when Simone laid down that kiss. And hearing her sing in the car. This excellent T-shirt. The goofy Garland fans.
And, okay, I’m not made of stone, so I had to admit to more that would leave a print: his sweet way with the funny professor. His mysterious scent. That incredible hair, those changeable eyes. The way that he listened to me.
Yes, I’d mucked it up good, but still, no regrets. With a little bit of time, no regrets.
Sandi signaled for a coffee refill, and the motion broke into my riff. I watched as she added two packs of sugar to the cup, stirred, and sipped. She rocked on the seat and hummed to herself. I could see dried blood around her nails, where she’d picked at her cuticles. Her mascara was smeared at the edge of her eye. Her lipstick was wide and uneven. Tom was right: She was teetering.
I said, “I understand if you don’t want to talk to me, but there’s got to be someone.”
She snapped, “Don’t bother yourself worrying. I’m here, aren’t I, and not out trying to cop? That’s a victory.” She added a third sugar, stirred, and cradled the cup. A soft noise slipped out. A whispered wail, if there is such a thing. “I haven’t had to call my sponsor in such a long time. Not since Tami’s last birthday, anyway. One year. One year since the last call.”
I swiveled my seat to face her. “Sandi, you’re wrong about something. I have too listened. Okay, you’re right, I come to meetings and, sure, mostly I tune out, but I have heard you talk. And I’ve heard what you said, that you can’t wait forever for someone to forgive you. None of us can wait for that because it probably won’t ever happen.”
She snorted. “I’d be happy to forgive myself.”
“Wouldn’t we all, but how likely is that?”
Sandi tossed back the rest of her coffee, rose, and marched over to the pay phone on the wall by the register. Leo looked up from his crossword.
I warmed the stool until she started talking, then made my exit, done with the night’s one good thing. Sandi touched my shoulder as I passed.
Leo called out, “See you around.”
What was that, I wondered: a good wish or
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