Slater had lied about her coming through Denver. He had probably lied about other things as well. The pockmarked man sounded like someone I had met quite recently, and my whole involvement felt suddenly dirty.
I couldn’t get her to say any more. “I’ve already said too much,” she said. “If I keep on, I’ll feel worse than ever. Maybe I should just take poison and save us all the grief.”
“That, of course, would be the worst thing you could do.” I calculated my next line and said it anyway. “I hope you’re not one of those people who turn suicidal on me.”
“Have you known people like that?”
“One or two. It’s always tragic, especially when they’re young.”
“I saw you looking at the scar on my arm. Back in the restaurant.”
“No use lying about it. I couldn’t help noticing.”
“Well, you’re right. I did that to myself.”
“Why?”
“Loneliness,” she said without missing a heartbeat. “Desolation, the undertow, the barren landscape. I can’t explain it. The loneliest times come when I’m adrift in a big city, or here with people who love me. When I’m really alone, up on a mountaintop somewhere, I’m fine. I go up to Archie’s cabin and I can go for a week without seeing another living soul. The feeling of peace is just incredible. Too bad we can’t live our lives on mountaintops. I really like being with people until I actually am, then I can’t stand them. Maybe I should try to find Jesus; people say that works, though I can’t imagine it working for me. I’m just not spiritually oriented. So I drift. Sometimes I don’t even know where the road’s gonna take me.”
“Talk to me, Eleanor. You got in trouble in New Mexico, then you came back here. What happened then?”
“Nothing. That’s the stupid part of it. I came fifteen hundred miles and I couldn’t go the last mile home. Instead I drove out to see Amy. But she wasn’t home and I couldn’t find her.”
“Who’s Amy?”
“Amy Harper. She was my best friend till she married Coleman Willis. The cock that walks like a man. Our relationship got a bit strained after that. It’s hard to stay friends with someone when her husband hates you.”
“How could anyone hate you?”
“I wouldn’t go to bed with him. To a guy who wears his brain between his legs, that’s the last word in insults.”
In a while I said, “So you went to see Amy but Amy wasn’t there. You wouldn’t want to kill yourself over that. Amy’ll be back.”
“How do you know?”
“People always come back.”
“Maybe so, but I won’t be here.”
No, I thought: you probably won’t be.
“What did you do then?” I said.
“Drove out to my parents’ place. Stood in the rain watching the house, afraid to come up and talk to them. God, I’ve never been so alone in my life. Then I saw them come out and drive off—going to town, I figured, for the week’s groceries. I went over to the house and sat on the porch. I wanted to die but I didn’t know how. I thought if I could just lie down and close my eyes and not wake up, I’d do it. But it’s not that easy. It’s impossible, in fact; I don’t want to
“Did that work?”
“It always works, for a while. But it’s like anything else that has fantasy at its roots. Eventually you’ve got to come back to earth. Now I’m running out of time. Something will happen, today, tomorrow…some-thing’ll happen and I’ll be history.”
She pulled herself up on the bed. I heard her shoes hit the floor.
“Would you do something for me, Mr. Janeway?”
“If I can.”
“Hold me.”
“I don’t think that’ll be any great hardship.”
“That’s all I want…just…just…”
“Sure,” I said, taking her into the cradle of my arm.
She was shivering. I drew the blanket up under my chin and the body heat spread around us. Her hair smelled sweet, as if she had just washed it. I knew I had no business smelling her hair. She snuggled tight against me and I had no right to that either. Maybe she’d go to sleep now. Maybe I could forget she was there, just like the people at Lakehurst forgot the
