The Sixes

26

“HELLO, ALEC,” PHOEBE said trying to keep her voice casual. “What’s up?”

“What’s up?” he asked, as if her question had baffled him. But why wouldn’t she ask that? The last time she’d actually spoken to the man was back in April, when he’d been sweet enough to update her on his new relationship status. After that there had been a few final details for the two of them to sort out about bills and joint possessions, mostly handled via e-mail. Oh, I’ve got it, she thought: he needs information of some kind—the name of the hotel they’d loved in Aix-en-Provence, or whether his winter coat might still be stuffed in the back of her hall closet.

“Well, I doubt you’re calling to see what costume I wore for Halloween,” Phoebe said. “What can I do for you?”

“To be perfectly honest, I was simply calling to ask how you were.”

Oh, please, Phoebe said to herself. He can’t think I’d buy that.

“My phone doesn’t recognize the number on the screen,” she said. “Did you change jobs?”

“I did, actually. I’m with a new firm—Searles, Minka and Holt. Still in midtown, though.”

That was interesting, she thought. Had it become uncomfortable or too intense for him to work in the same firm as his new squeeze?

“I know you liked your firm,” Phoebe said. “Was this just too good of an offer to turn down?”

“More or less. But I didn’t call to talk about my new job. Like I said, I was wondering how you were doing.”

“Um, good, I guess. I’m enjoying teaching. And it’s been great to be around Glenda.”

A few seconds of silence followed. Phoebe found herself growing annoyed. Obviously Alec had an agenda, and she wished he’d just get it over with.

“That’s it?” Alec said finally. There was a tightness to his voice that Phoebe recognized. She’d ticked him off with the brevity of her response.

“I’m not really sure what you’re looking for, Alec,” Phoebe said. “It’s been months since we’ve talked. Do you want to know how my love life is? Or if there’s career life after plagiarism? If you can be more specific, I can probably do a better job of answering you.”

Don’t go all bitchy on him, she told herself. It’s not worth the psychic energy, and besides, you’ll regret it later.

She heard him take a breath. “There’s no reason to be sarcastic, Phoebe,” he said. “I read the New York Post stories. They said there might be some sort of a serial killer out there, and your name was mentioned in the same story. It also said someone on campus had accused you of plagiarism. I just wanted to be sure everything was okay.”

She still sensed an agenda hiding cagily somewhere, but she knew the best strategy would be to respond politely—and then hustle him off the phone.

“It’s nice of you to inquire, Alec. The plagiarism charges, by the way, were false. The Post will be running a retraction this week.”

“And you’re okay?”

She glanced down at her left arm, her fingers curling slightly out of the end of the sling.

“Yes, I’m fine,” she said. “Thank you for asking. And how have you been? Happy with the job switch?”

“Yes, quite happy. Coincidentally, I have a client in Allentown, which isn’t all that far from you, I believe. I need to see him next week, and I was thinking that if I met with him in the morning, I could drive down afterward and take you to lunch.”

She nearly laughed in surprise. She’d not seen this coming at all. Not only didn’t she have a shred of interest in his offer, but she thought he had a lot of nerve to ask.

“I don’t think so, Alec. But thank you for thinking of me.”

“Do you mind my asking why not?”

“Hmm, let me see how to put it. You announced out of the blue you were done with the relationship and moved out. You didn’t even bother to get in touch when the tabloids were beating me to a bloody pulp. And then suddenly you want us to have a friendly lunch together.”

She’d really lost it that time, but she didn’t care.

“Out of the blue?”

“Pardon me?”

“You said I announced out of the blue that I was done with our relationship. Maybe if you’d been paying attention during the previous year, you would have realized things weren’t right for us.”

“Oh, were you sending smoke signals along the horizon, and I failed to notice them?”

“You just don’t get it, do you, Phoebe?” Alec snapped.

“Obviously not. Why don’t you tell me what I can’t seem to get?”

“You never see when something’s wrong because you’re always too preoccupied with your research. You lose sight of everyone, including yourself. It’s like you don’t really want to connect—or ever get your feet wet emotionally.”

She didn’t think Alec could affect her anymore, but she felt the sting of his words.

“Which implies that on the other hand, you were there for me,” she said. “But at a time when I needed you most, even just in friendship, you didn’t bother to pick up the phone. I have to go now. Good-bye.”

As she disconnected, she felt like hurling her phone across the office. She couldn’t believe how much she’d let him get to her.

Her next class was in just a few minutes, and she needed to cool down and to splash some water on her face, which she could sense was beet-red. After gathering her things, she hurried to the ladies’ room at the end of the hall.

As soon as she entered the small vestibule, she heard a noise coming from one of the stalls. She realized after a moment that someone was vomiting. The toilet flushed then, and a second later she heard the person emerge and turn on the water at one of the sinks. Phoebe stepped inside, expecting to find a student there, a girl with a painful secret perhaps.

But it was Val who was standing at the basin, dabbing at her mouth with a tissue. She made eye contact with Phoebe in the mirror for a brief second, then lowered her eyes and dropped the tissue into her purse. Was Val ill? Phoebe wondered.

“Hello, Val,” Phoebe said. “Is everything all right?”

“What do you mean?” Val asked curtly. She was fishing in her purse for something, and seconds later pulled out a lipstick.

“I just thought that—well, maybe you weren’t feeling well.”

“I feel fine,” Val said. She turned around finally, and Phoebe saw that she indeed had been sick. Her skin was white and waxlike, and her eyes were bloodshot, exactly the way they might appear if she’d just been busy hurling her breakfast into a toilet bowl.

“But thanks for asking,” Val said, turning back to the mirror. She uncapped the lipstick and swiped a plum color on her lips. “How are you doing, by the way? Still recovering from that nasty spill?”

“Much better, thank you.”

Val tossed the tube of lipstick back in her purse. “Well, have a good day,” she said.

“You, too,” Phoebe said as Val brushed by her. Val was dressed down a bit today, Phoebe noticed—black pants and a tight black jersey turtleneck. Simple dangling silver earrings. Clearly she wasn’t feeling at the top of her game.

Though she had ten minutes before her next class started, Phoebe parked herself in the corridor outside the classroom. She was hoping Jen would come early and she could ambush her, arranging a moment to talk again. But by the time the class officially started, Jen had yet to arrive. Ten minutes into the class, Phoebe realized she definitely wasn’t coming. But her friend Rachel was there, keeping her eyes glued to her laptop.