'Um, could you give me a half hour?' Eli asked. 'Please, Uncle Kyle?'
'You have twenty minutes, okay?'
'Thanks, Uncle Kyle.' He hung up the phone. The buses to Capitol Hill ran pretty frequently. He could make it there in twenty minutes. In fact, he even had time to hit the restroom.
Eli heard another rumble of thunder. He glanced over his shoulder as he headed toward the men's room. No sign of that weird guy.
Somebody was using the only urinal, so Eli ducked into the stall to pee. He heard the other guy flush and then leave. Not a hand-washer. Eli was just finishing up when the lights flickered. For a few seconds the restroom was totally black. He couldn't see a thing--not even his hand in front of his face. A panic swept through him, and he braced himself against the stall wall for a moment. The lights came back on, and he caught his breath. He flushed the toilet, then turned around and hesitated.
Someone stood on the other side of the stall door. Eli felt as if his heart had stopped beating. He glimpsed the man's beat-up loafers and the cuffs of his jeans through the opening under the door. The man was blocking his way.
Eli backed up, bumping into the toilet. He glanced up toward the ceiling, which was a polished metal and gave a reflection. He could see a dark-haired man waiting outside the stall for him.
The lights flickered again.
He heard the restroom door open, and looked up. The reflection in the metal ceiling showed another man had just entered the restroom. He went to the urinal.
But the dark-haired man didn't budge. He remained just outside the stall--as if standing guard. Eli figured the guy couldn't very well attack him while someone else was in the men's room. He quickly pulled open the stall door.
He almost plowed right into the man--a middle-aged guy with a goatee. It wasn't the creepy man with the bloodshot eye. 'Sorry,' Eli gasped. Retreating to the sink, he ran his hands under the water and dried them on the front of his shorts.
Then he hurried out of the restroom, without looking back.
When Rikki Cosgrove opened her eyes and gasped, it was as if the last breath had left her body.
She'd scared the hell out of Sydney for a second, and Arlene had even let out a little, abbreviated scream. The old woman was still leaning on her three-pronged cane and clutching her heart as Rikki slipped away moments later.
Sydney watched her eyes roll back and her jaw slacken. The eyes--almost all white--remained open. 'She's gone,' Sydney whispered, more to herself than to the elderly woman at her side. Along with a crack of thunder outside, she heard a siren getting louder and closer now. But they were too late.
She and Arlene stepped out to the living room while the paramedics tended to Rikki. There were two of them, the shoulders of their blue summer uniforms wet from the rain: a husky, pale woman with brown hair and a good- looking bald black man with a goatee. They'd rolled a collapsible gurney and some resuscitation equipment into Rikki's bedroom. Sydney asked if she could open a window and turn on the fan, and the two paramedics encouraged her to do just that. Some rain blew in, but so did the cool fresh air.
They'd left the apartment door open, and Sydney noticed two more firemen waiting in the hallway. She thought she might be in the way, but the woman paramedic had asked her and Arlene to wait. Sydney heard the two of them in Rikki's bedroom, radioing to the police and announcing a time of death.
Sydney felt horrible for thinking Rikki had exaggerated the severity of her illness. She also felt incredibly disappointed in Aidan for allowing his frail, sickly mother to waste away and die alone in such a filthy apartment.
'Look at this,' Arlene said, glancing at the mess on the kitchen counter. 'Her poor son, he tried to put her in a nursing home, but Rikki refused to go. He hired a maid and a nurse for her, but she kicked them out. Rikki just wanted him to do, do, and do everything for her--and he did.'
Past all of Arlene's chatter, Sydney heard another siren, the piercing wail becoming louder.
'He flew up from San Francisco every weekend for her,' Arlene continued. 'This was the first weekend he's missed in I don't know how long. I saw this place last Sunday when Aidan was visiting her. It was neat as a pin--if you can believe it...'
Sydney glanced over at the easy chair facing the TV. She stared at the indentation still in the seat cushion, and the piles of magazines and trash around it. Beside the chair was a little table, cluttered with junk.
'He asked me to check in on her this week, but Rikki wouldn't let me in,' the elderly woman went on. 'She kept telling me to go away and mind my own P's and Q's. And the mouth on her, such language. Well, I shouldn't speak ill of the dead....'
Two policemen stepped into the apartment. Sydney backed up and tried to stay out of the way while one of the cops talked to Arlene. The other policeman ducked into the bedroom to consult with the paramedics.
Sydney noticed a cordless phone on the table by Rikki's chair. There was also a used Kleenex, a teacup, and a yellow legal pad. Sydney glanced at the note written on the top page. The print was large, so someone with bad eyesight could read it:
Below that was a list of important phone numbers--from Aidan's home number in San Francisco to Rikki's doctors to Pagliacci Pizza Home Delivery.
There was another thunder crack. Sydney heard the elevator ring in the outside hallway. A moment later, a tall, tanned handsome man with thick chestnut-brown hair stopped in Rikki's doorway. He had a full hiking pack strapped to his back and wore a white Oxford shirt, khaki cargo shorts, and sandals. There was a policeman behind him. 'Oh, God,' the young man murmured, visibly dazed. Shucking off the backpack, he let it drop to the floor, and then headed toward Rikki's bedroom.
But the cop stepped in front of him, and shook his head. 'If you could just give them a minute, sir,' the policeman said.
The handsome man turned to Rikki's neighbor 'I saw that ambulance outside, and I was hoping it wasn't...Arlene, were you with her? Did somebody call a priest for her? She would have wanted a priest...'
Arlene patted his shoulder. 'We were with her when she passed away, dear.' The elderly woman nodded toward Sydney. 'The two of us were at her side. Your mother wasn't alone....'
He gazed at Sydney as if he were just noticing her there for the first time. 'Sydney? Sydney Jordan?'
'I'm so sorry. Aidan,' she murmured.
Tears welled in his eyes. He walked to her and threw his arms around her. Aidan pressed his face to her shoulder, and began to cry. 'I should have stayed with her this weekend,' he murmured, his voice choked with emotion. 'She thought she was dying, but she's been saying that for years....'
'There now,' Sydney whispered, stroking his back. 'It's not your fault.'
In this strapping, handsome twenty-five-year-old, she could still see the burnt and broken little boy she'd saved from that fire. Sydney still felt a connection to him after all these years. This was the first time she'd actually been able to hug him. 'It's okay, Aidan,' she said. 'It's okay...'
Then Sydney started to cry with him.
Beyond the raindrops slashing at the front window of Everyday Music, Eli saw his uncle's Mercedes SUV come up Broadway and pull over to the curb by a life-size statue of Jimi Hendrix playing his guitar. Running out of the CD store, Eli covered his head from the rain with a free music magazine, and then he jumped in the front seat. Uncle Kyle was at the wheel. His eyes narrowed at him. 'Where's your friend?' he asked.
'Oh, um, he--he wanted to go to Broadway Video,' Eli lied. 'He said he'd get home on his own. Thanks a lot
