He nods.
I say, I’d like a witness, as it’s a lot of cash.
Fabian: Gabriel, youve got to trust people more often.
But he’s been dealing with me for ten years, and knows my idiosyncrasies. In fact, I know he respects them. No, I dont know that. But he is the perfect man for this job. Fabian Durdle holds no grudges. He calls in a secretary. As we’re waiting Fabian studies the bank draft. He’s not familiar with bank drafts.
He says, I’ll have to call your bank to verify this.
As he’s tapping the number I say, Fabian, youve got to trust people more often.
Touche, he says.
And now I owe a penny to no one. Nor do I own a penny.
Ah, details.
12 Lydia is working on her script. She wants me to read the scenes and see if it flows.
I’ve been avoiding Jethro, trying to walk. I see a woman in a wheelchair in the melting road up against the sidewalk curb. I say, Do you need a hand? And she yells out, straining her neck around me to a tailor’s shop, Kevin, I wants you now!
I’m wearing a pair of linen pants that I bought at the Sally Ann two days ago and dropped the cuffs an inch and they flop with a lazy southern wind over the rim of my cranberry leather shoes. They are quite out of place for March. On Mom’s advice I’ve had my shoes resoled at Modern Shoe Hospital. When I look down what I see are the pants and the shoes and I feel very lavish.
Lydia’s door is locked and I have no key, which I resent but am silent about. Lydia has my key. She keeps meaning to get around to it, but she hasnt.
I’m surprised when Wilf opens the door. He says, in Lydia’s voice: It’s me, transformed into Wilf’s body!
He tries to kiss me.
Bonus, I say.
13 I call Max. Want to see a movie? When?
In fifteen minutes.
Pause. Let me check with Daphne.
Pause.
Okay!
I pick him up and he chuckles on Elizabeth Avenue. He slaps his thighs.
He looks out his window, enjoying this.
So what’s the big delight?
Daphne’s pregnant.
Max.
It’s a good thing. She’s moving in.
Youre a fast worker.
I’m a potent man. And speaking of which, your ass will be on display next month. Alex is giving me a wall.
The movie has one good image: a peeled, steaming eel wriggling on a set of tongs. Then we drive to Burger King. This reminds me, Max says, of twenty years ago.
I say, You have to go back twenty years to be reminded? Of this particular moment, yes.
We watch the girl serving us lean towards the milkshake station, one hand on the waxy cup and the other pressing the chunky white button. She holds the cup near her waist and she looks down, and she is looking down past her own body, at the work.
She shovels fries into cardboard pockets. The golden yellow lights of the fry stations on her forearms and hands. She’s wearing white shoes. I used to work at Burger King. I used to date girls like this.
We drive to a bar that has chessboards. A drawn-out win for Max. Then I drive him home. He has filled my tank with a credit card. He had tipped the card out his half-open window. Make it twenty bucks, he’d said.