“The gist is, we have to take care of
Bennie snorted. “What do you think?”
“Any booze?”
“Does Gatorade count?”
“Only original flavor. The blue sucks.”
Bennie laughed. She was beginning to like this conversation. It was a working girl’s version of phone sex.
“Get yourself something to drink. Water, at least.”
Her mouth did feel parched. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d eaten. She’d left the Palm doggie bag in the office refrigerator.
“Go now. Take the phone with you. I want to make sure you’re okay.”
“I’m fine,” Bennie said, but when she got up, she felt dizzy. She sat back down. “Where are you anyway?”
“I’m out back. I checked your alley, your backdoor, and back windows. Everything looks fine. I like your new bars, in the back.”
“Do you have your water yet?”
“Coming, Mother.” Bennie rocked herself off the couch, one, two, three, and stood until the dizziness passed, then kicked off her shoes and padded into the kitchen. Her feet were wet, and between her toes her foot powder had turned to Spackle. “Here I go, into the kitchen.” She left pasty Desenex footprints that Bear crouched to sniff, but she didn’t tell David. Athlete’s foot wasn’t first-date conversation.
“What happened with the cops? And before that, at the St. Amiens? But first, drink.”
So Bennie filled him in while she got herself a glass of water, took a gulp between sentences, then eased down her tile wall and sat on the floor to finish the story, cross-legged and talking on the phone like a kid in high school. It was a chummy feeling, trading sentences with David, answering his questions and hearing his views, there in the stillness of her cozy kitchen, with only Bear as a witness.
By the end of the conversation, her breathing had returned to normal and her clothes felt dry. She was feeling so good and calm inside. It had been such a long time since she’d had a man in her life that even one on a cell phone could give comfort. It had been a long time since she’d even been in the company of a man. Heard a deeper voice in her ear. Considered a different way of looking at the world. Had someone agree with her, and more important, disagree.
“David?” she blurted out, right when he was in the middle of a sentence.
“Yes?”
But she couldn’t say more. She didn’t know what she wanted to say. Okay, maybe she did. She just didn’t know how to say it.
“What?” he asked, waiting.
She let it pass. “Where are you now?”
“Watching your house. From the front now.”
“What’s going on out there?”
“It’s dark out, and people are finishing dinner.” David’s voice sounded calm, steady, and unhurried. Unworried. If he’d been wondering what she was going to say, he wasn’t wondering anymore. “An old man near you just put his trash out, only half a bag. He did a very neat job with his newspapers, all folded. Little girls who live on your side of the street are jumping on the bed, on the second floor, in the front room. There’s a poster on their wall of Britney Spears. And your neighbor was washing her dishes by hand, in her kitchen in the back. Her window is open, over the sink. If you’re in the kitchen, you should be able to hear her, if she’s still at it. Is she?”
Bennie listened and heard it faintly. The clinking of silverware. A sweetly domestic sound she remembered from her childhood. Her mother had never had a dishwasher. Bennie leaned her head back against the base cabinet and closed her eyes. Missing her mother, and listening. She hadn’t heard that small sound in years. She was never home at this hour. She missed the sound and savored it, both at the same time, holding the thickness in her throat, like a sliver of milk chocolate you knew would melt away too soon, making it all the more precious. She missed her mother so much; she was with her right now. It was a paradox Bennie had never understood until this minute.
“And your neighbor on the other side is practicing his guitar, in front of the window. He’s pretty good. It’s classical, but it’s slow. Nice. Can you hear that, too?”
Bennie didn’t know if she could; she just wanted him to go on. She kept her eyes closed, letting the wetness slip from beneath her lids. It would do her good, wash the city soot out of her eyes.
“People are walking their dogs. Somebody has a yellow lab out here, with a red bandanna. I hate dogs in clothes. God meant dogs to be naked. Hey, doesn’t Bear have to go out?”
“Oh, Jeez. I forgot.” Bennie wiped her eyes and sat straight up, guilted out of her reverie. Bear snoozed curled up against her foot. He hadn’t even complained. The dog was a saint. “I can’t believe I forgot about him.”
“You had a lot on your mind.”
“I have to take him out now.”
“Okay, relax. I’ll make sure you’re okay. Take the phone with you.”
Bennie scrambled to her feet. “You don’t mind?”
“Not at all. This is why I make the big bucks.”
“Wise ass.” She padded back into the living room and slipped into her shoes. Bear followed, realizing what was going on, and began to dance at her feet, his nails clicking on the hardwood. She went to the back of the door where his leash hung on the knob and slid it off, along with the pooper scooper from the entrance hall. “Hold on, David,” she said, putting the phone down while she leashed the excitable dog, since it couldn’t be accomplished with one hand, then retrieved the phone. “I’m back.”
“Okay, come on out.”
“Roger wilco.” Bennie grabbed her keys and left the house. The night was cool, dark, and quiet, and revived her slightly. Even if it hadn’t, Bear would have, by tugging her instantly up the street to his favorite tree, where he squatted like a girl dog. “Cute, huh? I have no idea why he does this.”
“He needs a father, obviously.”
Bennie got a little tingle.
“I see you.”
“I don’t see you.”
“Damn, I’m good.”
“Gimme a clue. You in disguise? Got the red horns on?”
“Are you two finished yet? Ole Bear seems to be doing a lot of sniffing.”
“He’s stalling. He owes me number two.”
“Thanks for sharing.”
Bennie walked Bear up to the next tree, looking around. No David and no Alice. Only two streetlights illuminated the street at either end, and both were far from her house. The street was bathed in darkness. She heard some shouting in the distance, then a bottle breaking. City noises. Still, it was a little creepy. No one was on the street.
“Don’t worry, I’m here.”
Bennie smiled in the darkness. “How did you know I was worried?”
“I just did.” His voice remained soft and calm, coming out of nowhere. If God talked on the cell, it would sound like this.
“Wait, we have ignition.” Bear did his business, and Bennie reached for her scooper, scooped his poop expertly, and dropped it in the sewer on the way to the house. “I think we’re done.”
“Head home now, keep walking. You’re almost at your next-door neighbor’s house, right?”
“Right.”
“There’s a trash bag there, a white Hefty kitchen bag, just like the kind you use. It looks like new. Do you see it?”
Bennie spotted the white trash bag, catching what little light there was in the dark. “I guess they put out their trash.”
“No, you did. Walk past it.”
“Okay,” Bennie said, mystified. “How do you know what kind of kitchen bags I use?”
