I nodded. ‘This one is OK.’
‘Done any long-term thinking?’
‘You sound like my brother. He wants me to make a plan.’
‘Everything is going to change.’
‘They’ll always need cops,’ I said.
‘Cops who go AWOL?’
‘All we need is a result,’ I said. ‘Mrs Kramer, or Carbone. Or
Brubaker, maybe. We’ve got three bites of the cherry. Three
chances.’
She said nothing.
‘Relax,’ I said. ‘We’re out of the world for forty-eight hours.
Let’s enjoy ourselves. Worrying isn’t going to get us anywhere.
We’re in Paris.’
She nodded. I watched her face. Watched her try to get past
it. Her eyes were expressive in the candlelight. It was like she
had troubles in front of her, maybe piled high into stacks, like
cartons. I saw her shoulder her way around them, to the quiet
place in the back of the closet.
‘Drink your wine,’ I said. ‘Have tim.’
My hand was resting on the table. She reached out and
squeezed it and picked up her glass.
“We’ll always have North Carolina,’ she said.
We ordered three courses each off the fixed-price page of
the menu. Then we took three hours to eat them. We kept the
conversation away from work. We talked about personal things
instead. She asked me about my family. I told her a little about
Joe, and not much about my mother. She told me about her
folks, and her brothers and sisters, and enough cousins that I
lost track about who was who. Mostly I watched her face in the
candlelight. Her skin had a copper tone mixed behind pure
ebony black. Her eyes were like coal. Her jaw was delicate,
like fine china. She looked impossibly small and gentle, for a
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soldier. But then I remembered her sharpshooter badges. More
than I had.
‘Am I going to meet your morn?’ she said.
‘If you want to,’ I said. ‘But she’s very sick.’
‘Not just a broken leg?’
I shook my head.
‘She has cancer,’ I said.
‘Is it bad?’
‘As bad as it gets.’
Summer nodded. ‘I figured it had to be something like that.
You’ve been upset ever since you came over here the first time.’
‘Have I?’
‘It’s bound to bother you.’
I nodded in turn. ‘More than I thought it would.’
‘Don’t you like her?’
‘I like her fine. But, you know, nobody lives for ever. Conceptually
these things don’t come as a surprise.’
‘I should probably stay away. It wouldn’t be appropriate if I
came. You should go with Joe. Just the two of you.’
‘She likes meeting new people.’
‘She might not be feeling good.’
‘We should wait and see. Maybe she’ll want to go out for
lunch.’
‘How does she look?’
‘Terrible,’ I said.
‘Then she won’t want to meet new people.’
We sat in silence for a spell. Our waiter brought the check. We counted our cash and paid half each and left a decent
tip. We held hands all the way back to the hotel. It felt like
the obvious thing to do. We were alone together in a sea of
troubles, some of them shared, some of them private. The guy
with the top hat opened the door for us and wished us bonne
nuit. Good night. We rode up in the elevator, side by side, not
touching. When we got out on our floor Summer had to go left
and I had to go right. It was an awkward moment. We didn’t
speak..I could see she wanted to come with me and I sure as
hell wanted to go with her. I could see her room in my mind.
The yellow walls, the smell of perfume. The bed. I imagined
lifting her new sweater over her head. Unzipping her new skirt
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and hearing it fall to the floor. I figured it would have a silk
lining. I figured it would make a rustling sound.
I knew it wouldn’t be right. But we were already AWOL. We
were already in all kinds of deep shit. It would be comfort and
consolation, apart from whatever else it would be.
‘What time in the morning?’ she said.
‘Early for me,’ I said. ‘I have to be at the airport at six.’