“What do you suppose would happen,” she said, “if we just turned around and headed south. Strangers in the night, never laid eyes on each other till an hour ago. Just go, roll the dice, see how long we could put up with each other.”
“Would you do that?”
“I might.” She thought about it, then shook her head. “But I can’t.”
“Ah.”
“I’ve been known to do crazier things. I’ve just got something else on my agenda right now.”
“What’s that?”
“Can’t talk about it. Besides, it’s too long a story. My whole life gets messed up in it and I don’t think you’ve got time for that.”
“I’ve got nothing but time.”
“None of us has that much time.”
She was feeling better now, I could see it in her face. Food, one of the most intimate things after the one most intimate thing, had worked its spell again. “Oh, I needed that,” she said. “Yeah, I was hungry.”
“I’m glad you decided to stick around.”
“Sorry about that. I just have a bad reaction to that song.”
“I think it’s a great song.”
“I’m sure it is. But it gives me the willies.”
“Why would it do that?”
“Who’s to say? Some things you can’t explain.”
Then, as if she hadn’t been listening to her own words, she said, “I’ve got a stalker in my life.”
She shook her head. “Forget I said that. I’m tired…at the end of my rope. Sometimes I say things…”
I stared at her, waiting.
“Sometimes he calls me and plays that song.”
“Do you know who he is?”
“I know him by sight, I don’t know his name. Obviously he knows mine.” She shivered deeply. “I don’t talk about this. But you’ve been such a dear…I can’t have you thinking I’m crazy.”
“Have you called the cops?”
She shook her head. “Cops don’t seem to be able to do much with people like that.”
“If he’s harassing you on the phone, they can catch him. The time it takes to trace a call these days is pretty short; damn near no time at all.”
“So they’d catch him. They’d bring him in and charge him with something minor, some nothing charge that would only stir him up.”
“How long has he been doing this?”
She took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and said, “Not long, a few weeks. But it seems like years.”
“You can’t put up with that. You’ve got to protect yourself.”
“Like…get a gun, you mean?”
I let that thought speak for itself.
She sighed. “I’ve never fired a gun in my life.”
The strange thing was, I believed her.
“Do you have any idea what he wants?”
“I think I know what he wants. But just now I would like to please change the subject. Let’s get back to happy talk.” She cocked her head as if to say,
“I’ve been wet so long it feels like dry to me. What was that guy’s name?”
“That’s more like it. His name was Richard Farina.”
“Is his book worth anything?”
“Mmmm, yeah,” she said in a singsong voice. “Hundred dollars maybe. I wouldn’t kick it out in the rain.”
The waitress came and left the check.
