Страница 78 из 79
“Next one! Watch there not be a next one. They’ll stop ru
The husband made an exasperated huffing sound, but De
The man in front of him was called to a window, and De
But no, he got the cheery-looking African-American lady, and her first words when he gave her his confirmation number were “Aren’t you the lucky one!” He signed for his ticket gladly, without his usual muttering at the price. He thanked her and lugged his bags to the Dunkin’ Donuts to buy coffee and, on second thought, a pastry as well, to celebrate. He was going to make it out of here after all.
The few tables outside the Dunkin’ Donuts were occupied, and so were all the benches in the waiting room. He had to eat standing against a pillar with his bags piled at his feet. More passengers were milling around than at Christmas or Thanksgiving, even, all wearing frazzled expressions. “No, you can’t buy a candy bar,” a mother snapped at her little boy. “Stick close to me or you’ll get lost.”
A mellifluous female voice on the loudspeaker a
Sometimes you glance toward a woman and she glances toward you and there is this subtle recognition, this moment of complicity, and anything might happen after that. Or not. De
The train at gate B-for-Bubba was traveling to D.C., where nobody seemed to want to go, but when De
The train curved toward them from a distance, almost the same shade of gray as the darkened air it moved through, and a number of cars flashed past before it shrieked to a stop. There didn’t appear to be a quiet car, as far as De
Always that “Ahh” feeling when you settle into place, finally. Always followed, in a matter of minutes, by “How soon can I get out of here?” But for now, he felt completely, gratefully at rest.
People were having trouble finding seats. They were jamming the aisle, bumbling past with their knobby backpacks, calling to each other in frantic-sounding voices. “Dina? Where’d you go?” “Over here, Mom.” “There’s room up ahead, folks!” a conductor shouted from the forward end.
The train started moving, and those who were still standing lurched and grabbed for support. A woman arguably old enough to be offered a seat loomed above De
Row houses passed in a slow, dismal stream — their rear windows drably curtained or blanked out with curling paper shades, their back porches crammed with barbecue grills and garbage cans, their yards a jumble of rusty cast-off appliances. Inside the car, the hubbub gradually settled down. De
“Hey, there. It’s Alison,” the recording said. “I’m either out or unavailable, but you can always leave me a message.”
“Pick up, Allie,” he said. “It’s me.”
There was a pause, and then a click.
“You act like saying ‘It’s me’ will make me drop everything and come ru
Another time, he might have asked, “And didn’t it?” Three months ago he might have asked that. But now he said, “Well, a guy can always hope.”
She said nothing.
“What’re you up to?” he asked finally.
“I’m trying to get ready for Sandy.”
“Who’s Sandy?”
“What is Sandy, idiot. Sandy the hurricane; where have you been?”
“Ah.”
“On the news they’re showing people laying sandbags across their doorways, but where on earth do you buy those?”
“I’ll see to that,” he told her. “I’m already on the train.”
Another pause, during which he held very still. But in the end, all she said was “De
“What.”
“I have not said yes to that yet.”
“I realize you haven’t,” he said. He said it a bit too quickly, so she wouldn’t retract the word “yet.” “But I’m hoping that the sight of my irresistible self will work its magic.”
“Is that right,” she said flatly.
He squinched his eyes almost shut, and waited.
“We’ve already talked about this,” she told him. “Nothing’s changed. No way am I going to let things go on like they were before.”
“I know that.”
“I’m tired. I’m worn out. I’m thirty-three years old.”
The conductor was standing over him. De
“I need somebody I can depend on,” she said. “I need a guy who won’t change jobs more often than most people change gym memberships, or take off on a road trip without any notice, or sit around all day in sweat pants smoking weed. And most of all, someone who’s not moody, moody, moody. Just moody for no reason! Moody!”
De
“Listen,” he said. “Allie. You’re always asking what on earth is wrong with me, but don’t you think I wonder too? I’ve been asking it all my life; I wake up in the middle of the night and I ask, ‘What’s the matter with me? How could I screw up like this?’ I look at how I act sometimes and I just can’t explain it.”
The silence at the other end was so profound that he wondered if she had hung up. He said, “Al?”
“What.”
“Are you there?”
“I’m here.”
He said, “My dad says he remembers my mom’s gone even while he’s asleep.”
“That’s sad,” Allie said after a moment.
“But I do, too,” he said. “I remember you’re gone, every second I’ve been away.”
All he heard was silence.
“So I want to come back,” he said. “I want to do things differently this time.”
More silence.
“Allie?”
“Well,” she said, “we could take it day by day, I guess.”
He let out his breath. He said, “You won’t regret it.”
“I probably will, in fact.”
“You won’t, I swear to God.”