The Accidental Tourist

to put him back in connection with the rest of the world. He hadn’t felt another person’s touch in so long.

“I’ll tell them about the key in the mailbox so they won’t have to break down the door,” Charles said.

“What? Who?”

“The police, and I’ll tell them to — Macon, I’m sorry but you knew that dog would have to be done away with sooner or later.”

“Don’t do it!” Macon shouted.

A man emerging from the restroom glanced in his direction.

Macon lowered his voice and said, “He was Ethan’s.”

“Does that mean he’s allowed to tear my throat out?”

“Listen. Let’s not be hasty. Let’s think this through. Now, I’m going to… I’m going to telephone Sarah. I’m going to ask her to come over and take charge of Edward. Are you listening, Charles?”

“But what if he attacks her too?” Charles asked.

“He won’t, believe me. Now, don’t do anything till she comes, you understand? Don’t do anything hasty.”

“Well…” Charles said doubtfully.

Macon hung up and took his wallet from his pocket. He rummaged through the business cards and torn-off snippets of paper, some of them yellow with age, that he kept in the secret compartment. When he found Sarah’s number he punched it in with a trembling finger and held his breath. Sarah, he would say, I’m up on top of this building and—

She didn’t answer.

That possibility hadn’t occurred to him. He listened to her phone ring. What now? What on earth now?

Finally he hung up. He sifted despairingly through the other numbers in his wallet — dentist, pharmacist, animal trainer…

Animal trainer?

He thought at first of someone from a circus — a brawny man in satin tights. Then he saw the name: Muriel Pritchett. The card was handwritten, even hand-cut, crookedly snipped from a larger piece of paper.

He called her. She answered at once. “Hel-lo,” roughly, like a weary barmaid.

“Muriel? It’s Macon Leary,” he told her.

“Oh! How you doing?”

“I’m fine. Or, rather… See, the trouble is, Edward’s got my brother cornered in the pantry, overreacting. Charles I mean, he always overreacts, and here I am on top of this building in New York and I’m having this kind of, um, disturbance, you know? I was looking down at the city and it was miles away, miles. I can’t describe to you how—”

“Let’s make sure I’ve got this right,” Muriel said. “Edward’s in your pantry—”

Macon collected himself. He said, “Edward’s outside the pantry, barking. My brother’s inside. He says he’s going to call the police and tell them to come shoot Edward.”

“Well, what a dumb fool idea.”

“Yes!” Macon said. “So I thought if you could go over and get the key from the mailbox, it’s lying on the bottom of the mailbox—”

“I’ll go right away.”

“Oh, wonderful.”

“So good-bye for now, Macon.”

“Well, but also—” he said.

She waited.

“See, I’m up on top of this building,” he said, “and I don’t know what it is but something has scared the hell out of me.”

“Oh, Lord, I’d be scared too after I went and saw Towering Inferno.”

“No, no, it’s nothing like that, fire or heights—”

“Did you see Towering Inferno? Boy, after that you couldn’t get me past jumping level in any building. I think people who go up in skyscrapers are just plain brave. I mean if you think about it, Macon, you have to be brave to be standing where you are right now.”

“Oh, well, not so brave as all that,” Macon said.

“No, I’m serious.”

“You’re making too much out of it. It’s nothing, really.”

“You just say that because you don’t realize what you went through before you stepped into the elevator. See, underneath you said, ‘Okay, I’ll trust it.’ That’s what everyone does; I bet it’s what they do on airplanes, too. ‘This is dangerous as all get-out but what the hay,’ they say, ‘let’s fling ourselves out on thin air and trust it.’ Why, you ought to be walking around that building so amazed and proud of yourself!”

Macon gave a small, dry laugh and gripped the receiver more tightly.

“Now here’s what I’m going to do,” she said. “I’m going to go get Edward and take him to the Meow-Bow. It doesn’t sound to me like your brother is much use with him. Then when you get back from your trip, we need to talk about his training. I mean, things just can’t go on this way, Macon.”

“No, they can’t. You’re right. They can’t,” Macon said.

“I mean this is ridiculous.”

“You’re absolutely right.”

“See you, then. Bye.”

“Well, wait!” he said.

But she was gone.

After he hung up, he turned and saw the latest arrivals just heading toward him from the elevator. First came three men, and then three women in long gowns. Behind them was a couple who couldn’t be past their teens. The boy’s wrist bones stuck out of the sleeves of his suit. The girl’s dress was clumsy and touching, her small chin obscured by a monstrous orchid.

Halfway down the corridor, the boy and girl stopped to gaze around them. They looked at the ceiling, and then at the floor. Then they looked at each other. The boy said, “Hoo!” and grabbed both the girl’s hands, and they stood there a moment, laughing, before they went into the restaurant.

Macon followed them. He felt soothed and tired and terribly hungry. It was good to find the waiter just setting his food in place when he sank back into his seat.

ten

'I’ll be honest,” Muriel said, “My baby was not exactly planned for. I mean we weren’t exactly even married yet, if you want to know the truth. If you want to know the truth the baby was the reason we got married in the first place, but I did tell Norman he didn’t have to go through with it if he didn’t want to. It’s not like I pushed him into it or anything.”

She looked past Macon at Edward, who lay prone on the front hall rug. He’d had to be forced into position, but at least he was staying put.

“Notice I let him move around some, as long as he stays down,” she said. “Now I’m going to turn my back, and you watch how he does.”

She wandered into the living room. She lifted a vase from a table and examined its underside. “So anyhow,” she said, “we went ahead and got married, with everybody acting like it was the world’s biggest tragedy. My folks really never got over it. My mom said, ‘Well, I always knew this was going to happen. Back when you were hanging out with Dana Scully and them, one or another of them no-count boys always honking out front for you, didn’t I tell you this was going to happen?’ We had a little bitty wedding at my folks’ church, and we didn’t take a honeymoon trip but went straight to our apartment and next day Norman started work at his uncle’s. He just settled right into being married — shopping with me for groceries and picking out curtains and such. Oh, you know, sometimes I get to thinking what kids we were. It was almost like playing house! It was pretend! The candles I lit at suppertime, flowers on the table, Norman calling me ‘hon’ and bringing his plate to the sink for me to wash. And then all at once