“I thought you probably had, but she’s awful about things like that. I mean, if you dream about a fish that waltzes like your aunt, she writes it down. But addresses and phone numbers are too mundane.”
He said, “I still love you.”
There was a pause, a silence so long it seemed apt to last forever.
At last Lara said, “I was going to say I went out to dinner when I left the office. With somebody. Somebody took me out to dinner.”
“That’s okay.”
“The thing is, you’ve got your regular session with Dr. Nilson on Tuesday.”
“Yes,” he said.
“And she has a chance to pick up a little consulting job. You know she doesn’t make much at the Center.”
“Yes,” he said again.
“Do you feel you could skip this week? Would you want to, and would you be willing to do that as a favor to Dr. Nilson?”
“No,” he said.
“The other possibility would be if you were able to come in tomorrow. Pretty often someone cancels, and even if they don’t, I could probably squeeze you in.”
“You’ll be there?” He found he was looking at Tina while thinking of Lara. That was why he had bought Tina, of course—because she reminded him of Lara; but she was not Lara. Lora was Lara.
“I know you must be wondering why I’m back with Dr. Nilson after being gone for so long. I’ve been married and divorced. I get alimony and child support now, and I thought of this job. It doesn’t pay a lot, but it was the best job I’d ever had, the only one I ever had that I really liked, and I knew if I had to take Missy to the doctor or something, Dr. Nilson would let me off, there wouldn’t be any trouble about it.”
He hesitated, irresolute among the thousands of things he wanted to say to her, the hundreds of questions he needed to ask. In some weak way he held power for the moment, and it was supremely important he not squander it. Slowly and carefully he said, “If I come tomorrow, I’ll be counting on you to get me in to see her. I want to know beyond a doubt that you’ll be there, Lara.”
“I’ll definitely be there. Can you come after lunch? One o’clock?”
He found that he was holding his handkerchief—that he had crushed it into a sodden ball. He said, “The best way for you to make certain I’ll be there at one would be to let me take you to lunch. I’d like very much to do that.”
Another pause, shorter this time but still long. “Suppose I were to tell you I had to see Missy at the day-care center?”
“I’d like to go with you. I’d like to see Missy, too.” He glanced at Tina. “I might even have a present for her.”
“I don’t, not really.” A brief pause. “Not till I get off work tonight.”
“You go to lunch at—”
“Noon.”
“I’ll be there at eleven forty-five,” he said.
“Fine. Thank you, Mr. Green. Goodbye.”
There was a gentle, final click.
I should have found out where she’s living, he thought; and then, She wouldn’t have told the truth.
Tina asked, “Are you going to give me to a little girl? Doesn’t she have a doll already?”
“I don’t know,” he told her. “But don’t worry. I don’t think this little girl really exists. If she has a doll, it probably isn’t real either.”
He hung up the phone, went to the crate, and took the edge of the middle board in both hands. It felt as though it were cutting his palms, then as though his shirt—no, the muscles of his back were tearing, ripping themselves to shreds of effort and pain. Nails started to give, protesting like mice as they were drawn from their holes, the last surrendering with a jerk that nearly sent him flying backward.
Tina whistled like a tiny teakettle. “I didn’t know you were so strong.”
“Neither did I,” he admitted. He peered through the wider opening he had made. The object within looked rough and nearly black.
“Are you going to pull them all off?”
He shook his head. “I had that one in me. I don’t think there are any more.”
“Don’t lay it down like that,” Tina advised him. “You’ll step on a nail. Stand it up against the wall.”
“You’re right,” he said.
“Where are you going?”
“To the kitchen. I’ve got a screwdriver in there.”
“I want to show you something first. Will you come over here?”
He sat down on the sofa beside her.
