Джон Краули - New Haven Noir

What’s wrong?

Sciatica.

I’d have brought you a glass of water! I said.

He said, I can find the faucet. I don’t need water.

He took many pills and never with water. You’re addicted to prescription painkillers, I said a few weeks later, and he shrugged, which startled me: I had intended hyperbole. By then I was dependent on the sex, maybe a little in love, or, at least, more vulnerable than I liked. Frank would stick his head into my office and say Tonight? or Dinner? without bothering with conventional greetings and inquiries. That felt thrillingly intimate. He couldn’t get enough of me — but then he might become impatient and resentful, as if we were only in the same room at the same time because I’d tricked him. My stories about my middle-class, ethnically mixed family (I’m half Korean, half Jewish) bored him, and he said so. His cynicism about the job went beyond my irreverent jokes about Diane’s love of rules or her assistant’s fussiness about paperwork. He dismissed the administrators from his mind, as if of no consequence.

When Frank talked about himself, he generally began with ambition, though I sometimes learned about something else as well. Hearing about a prestigious conference in Vancouver at which he’d been invited to speak, I learned that he was afraid of airplanes, though he flew often. I learned about the conference in bed, when he took a call after we’d finished.

I’ve been hoping for this, he said. I know what I want to do.

What do you want to do?

His talk, he explained, would include videos of him working with Gavin. He said, One of my students is taping us. And after I show the videos — then I introduce Gavin himself! He paused, then added, I’d better bring a chaperone. He has an uncle. My research money will pay for their plane tickets.

Frank had some kind of university appointment.

Videos? I said. What about confidentiality?

No last name, Frank said. He stood up, rubbed his back, and went to the bathroom.

But still, I said when he returned.

Still what? I just wish I didn’t have to fly!

Confidentiality.

No last name , he said again. I have his permission, of course. And he’s being photographed from behind.

Why bring him? I said. If you’ve got him on video...

Q&A, he said. They’ll eat it up. It all has to do with teenagers getting past anger — not letting it get them into trouble.

What do you do that’s so different? I said. I too spent hours every week with angry teenagers, and I knew that any of them might get into trouble at any minute.

He was silent. Gavin’s going to be the subject of my next book, he said then. I’m writing a proposal. There’s interest.

From the people who brought out your last book?

From agents. That was a university press. Now I’m going big time.

Soon, I calculated, Frank would be offered a more lucrative job in a bigger city.

One night at the beginning of summer, Frank and I met at a restaurant. He was late, and came in looking rushed, whipping his napkin from the place setting. Did you order for us? he said.

I wouldn’t have dared order for him. When we were finally eating, he said, I just confiscated a gun.

From who?

He shrugged. That’s why I was late.

From Gavin?

Gavin ? Of course not. Gavin doesn’t have a gun!

Who, then? How did you find out?

I’d rather not say.

But don’t you have to turn him in? I said. A gun was serious. The client might be sent to a more restrictive facility.

I’m not turning him in, Frank said.

You’re not? What then?

I’ll keep it. When he’s ready, he and I will take it to the buyback program. They’ll pay me, and I’ll give him the money.

Won’t he just buy another gun?

By then he won’t want one.

I suppose he’ll spend the money on books, I said drily.

In Latin, Frank said. Greek.

We ate. Where is it now? I said.

Frank shook his head.

It’s not in your pocket, is it?

Forget it, he said.

I’d intended to work on reports that evening, but had decided to postpone them when Frank suggested dinner. I expected that he’d come home with me. But at the end of the meal, which he paid for, I thanked him, mentioned the reports, and left while he was pulling out his credit card.

After that Frank was less interested in me. I was sure he blamed me for timidity. I blamed myself. Obviously Frank wasn’t dangerous! I liked him for his outrageousness, I scolded myself — but apparently I couldn’t handle someone who went beyond making lame jokes about the administration and actually tried innovative methods — risky ones, yes, but taking risks led to progress.

Then, one evening, he phoned: a quick, impersonal call. Can I come over now? When he arrived he accepted some Scotch and sat down on my sofa. I have a proposal for you, he said. I don’t mean I’m going to propose!

I didn’t think you did, I said. You’re not down on one knee.

I felt flustered, unable to be at my best — too needy.

The organizers of the conference in Vancouver, he told me, were so pleased by his plan to bring Gavin, and by the video Frank had sent, that they had offered to make him one of the main speakers in the plenary session. They’d pay him a good sum, as well as expenses. The only problem, his contact had said, was the unfortunate, unspoken message conveyed by the fact that Frank was a white man and Gavin a black boy. The pairing — and the absence of a speaker of color, or a woman, in what would now be a longer part of the program — might seem insensitive.

That’s all that troubles them? I said, but Frank kept talking. The organization, he explained, prided itself on its diversity, and on making clear to the public (Frank’s segment would be filmed and offered to news organizations) that all clients aren’t black, all therapists aren’t white. So they’d made Frank’s featured participation contingent on his bringing along a nonwhite colleague, preferably female. Would I be willing to join him?

You’re not in the videos, of course, he said, but you can interview Gavin before the Q&A — bring up concepts the videos don’t get to. Or accuse me of invading his privacy! You’d like that. A little controversy will be perfect.

I’m not black, I said. I wanted to do it, and I knew I shouldn’t. I said, Isn’t the idea that you should have someone black with you?

They said nonwhite , he said.

I’m mixed, I said. Maybe ask Diane? But I didn’t want him to ask Diane.

Frank turned his head quickly. Diane can’t hear about any of this! he said sharply. Diane thinks I’m a show-off. Then he said, And at this point in your career, the exposure will be fabulous for you.

I had thought of that. I’d never been to Vancouver. Frank and I would have hours together on the plane and in the hotel. Gavin and his uncle would be present much of the time, but even so... I wondered how much money I’d get. I began to think about what I might ask Gavin in our public conversation that would make the whole thing ethical after all.

It would be easy not to tell Diane, whom I respected: I didn’t want to know her opinion.

I didn’t say yes, but Frank talked as if it were settled, and I didn’t argue. From his chair he reached to stroke my arm with one finger, then put down his drink, stood, and took me in his arms.

When I awoke in the night he was asleep beside me — naked, sprawled, the blanket twisted around one leg. I got out of bed and crossed the room to the chair where he’d laid his clothes. In his left pants pocket I could see the outline of his bottle of pills. I put my hand into his right pants pocket and felt the flat leather billfold he carried, and something made of metal. I snatched my fingers back, then let the tips graze the edges of the object: the barrel, trigger, and grip of a small handgun.