I tell her we should keep driving around, that it’ll be dark soon. I ask if we can give it another hour, that if we can’t find my sister’s house in another hour, we’ll find a hotel and watch TV and eat chips. Then tomorrow we’ll go up to Vermont and live happily ever after. She tells me this is her dream. She says I should call my sister to see if she’s home, but I don’t have her new phone number. The last time I tried to call there was an automated voice saying the number I had dialed had been disconnected. I’m not sure when this was, if it was before or after I’d visited her last, the time she played the cello and we went for a walk. My sister hasn’t met any of my wives. I have a dim memory of calling her after I got married the first time with the intention of telling her the news, but all she could talk about were the drapes and how they were giving her all kinds of trouble.
THERE WERE TOO MANY PEOPLE there when it happened so I’ve decided to cut some of them. Arthur Wheeler was present but had nothing to do with it. Gil Figgitz was whittling with his fly open again, dementia worsening, so he’s out. All June Harrison does is occupy space and too much of it at that and this was no exception. Likewise husband, Bill. I know for a fact Judy Jakker wanted nothing to do with it — she said so in that ridiculous European accent of hers — so out of respect for Judy, I’ll say she wasn’t even there. Betty Lager is an easy cut, despite the jean shorts and pedicured toes. Frank Pugo shouldn’t have been mixed up in this in the first place and his role, from what I understand, was minimal. William Shedd doesn’t need this kind of recognition, given his situation. As far as Harriet Dovovich is concerned, it’s best to leave well enough alone. Diego Goldstein wasn’t there at all, but he’s my friend and he’d be excited to see his name included. Dottie Western was there, but only for a few minutes. She left her turquoise Indian bracelet so I have to remember to call her. Pugo’s mother was there — I remember seeing her — but I don’t think she was involved, although it wouldn’t surprise me. I’d like to say Bennie Mangine was there and responsible for the whole thing, but I’d be lying. Next door Jill probably had something to do with it, but I’ve been trying to get her to watch me from her bedroom window at night and we’re in the latter stages of negotiations. Considering what Jenn Untermeyer did for me the night of Bill Shedd’s going-away party, there’s no way I can put her in the middle of this. Along those same lines, Grace Heaney gets a pass, too. Of course, Sam Marichino was in it up to his ears, but given his condition. . Dale Sween has always known about discretion and valor. Fran Pollo was acting awfully strange. Maybe she’ll stay in, I’m not sure. She let me feel her up when we were sixteen so I’m sure I owe her something. Denise Livingston never seemed quite right to me. Her eyes are far apart and she is always bumping into things. It’s as if she can only muster an inconsequential peripheral vision. Sal Gonzalez saved my ass once. Maybe the train wouldn’t have killed me, but there’s no way of knowing. So regardless that all the evidence points to Sal, I could never name him. At any rate, those are the people I’m cutting. I’m not sure if it’ll make a difference. By the time the cops got there, it was out of our hands. I’m not sure who called them. I was contemplating Next-door Jill’s counteroffer when someone tapped me on the shoulder. There were two of them. The one with the mustache said, What’s the problem here? I said, There’s no problem, and looked him in the eye. It’s best if you look them in the eye. Then he said, Well, someone has a problem. I said nothing. It’s best if you can look them in the eye and say nothing at the same time. Then they both noticed what had happened in the living room. The other one said, Does it have something to do. . with. . I said, Yes, Officer, it does.
ONE OF THEM, the one who is driving, says, Pussy’s pussy, and looks at the other one, the one in the passenger seat. It’s a kind of challenge.
The other says, Pussy is not pussy.
The two work together and are considered good people. That’s how they were introduced. Their boss is the one who introduced them this way, palming each on the shoulder as the two shook hands, both uneasy about this particular introduction, the intimate and public nature of it, the informality, the three of them all touching one another in the middle of the office like that, neither of the two looking the other in the eye, both noting the other’s grip, one limp and ladylike, the other deliberately firm, like he was trying to inflict pain, like he had something to prove.
One is tall and the other short. They both have hair and eyes and wear suits and shoes. Although they both are good, they are not friends.
