David Halliday - The Hole

“The other night he told me that the world ended in 1950.” Jack shook his head. “He’s a strange one.”

“I have so much trouble reading men. One moment Hank seems really interested in me and the next… It’s like he’s off somewhere else on some distant planet. The first night I met him we were all over each other. Oh, I don’t know if I should say this…”

“Don’t worry, love,” Jack said. “I’ve heard it all.” 46

“You know where my apartment is. Over the variety store. God, we were like young kids all the way along the street. I guess I’d had a few drinks. He pushed me into a telephone booth and had his hands up my pants. Oh, God, it was wonderful. And the funny thing is, the phone was off the hook and some guy was on the other end asking who was calling, and I was moaning like a cat in heat. He must have thought we were a couple of perverts. I always make that mistake with men.”

“What mistake is that, Mary?”

Mary sucked deeply on her cigarette.

“Mistaking lust for affection. I always think they like me when what they want is between my legs. God, I wish I could do without them. Men have brought me nothing but tears. I adore my lovers but I get treated like an old dishrag. Just once I’d like to be the one who is adored.”

“You think he’s lost interest?”

Mary shrugged her shoulders. “Hank is different. I don’t think he’s really interested in the sex. He doesn’t seem too concerned with…getting off. Once I’ve been satisfied, he gives up. I’m willing to… you know. But he tells me that it’s all right. He’d rather talk.” Jack nodded and stood erect. Back is acting up again. He looked at Mary with concern.

“What do you know about this fella, Mary?”

Mary butted out her fresh cigarette absentmindedly and took a sip of her drink.

“Not much. Now that I think of it, I don’t know anything about him. I don’t even know his last name. I know it sounds loose but I’m beyond caring. God, sometimes I feel so lonely. I can’t stand being alone. When I’m in the apartment by myself, the television or radio is always on. Silence terrifies me. Without another human voice, I feel vulnerable. I’ve never been really alone. I know that there are people who need their space. I hate space. The here and now scares the hell out of me. I get so angry at Terry when he leaves the apartment and he turns off all the lights. I walk into the apartment and am immediately traumatized. I run around turning everything on. I don’t care about my electrical bills. Can you imagine living in the middle ages? All those noises. Crickets, the wind, animals. I need the cocoon of twentieth-century technology. Remember that blackout we had a few years ago? Lasted for hours. I spent the whole time in my girlfriend’s car listening to the radio.” Mary stopped to take a breath. “The first time I met Hank, I felt safe. Maybe it’s his size. And as you know, Hank likes to talk. He can go on for hours.

Puts me to sleep. It’s boring and comforting at the same time.” 47

Jack laughed, then added, “He’s certainly got something for the year 1950.”

Mary said, “Last night he told me about two Englishmen who stole state secrets for Russia. Files for nuclear weapons, H-bombs. How would he know about that? Do you think Hank could be a spy?” Jack chuckled. “I doubt that. There wouldn’t be too many top secret plans to be found here in the Six Points.”

“He asks a lot of questions though. Isn’t that what spies do?”

“What sort of questions?”

“He asks me a lot of things about my ex, Terry’s father. Of course, there’s not much to talk about there. The guy just walked out on me one day and never returned. At first I thought that Hank might be jealous.

But he wasn’t interested in any particulars about my ex. Just wanted to know about the night the bastard ran off.”

“Just that night?” Jack sighed.

Mary smiled. “What? What are you thinking?”

“Did he ask about any other disappearances?” Mary stared at Jack for a moment and thought. She took a sip of her drink.

“He asked me about an incident that happened when I was a kid.”

“Incident?” Jack asked.

“A friend of mine disappeared. Now that I think of it, a lot of questions that he asks are about people who have disappeared. Do you think he might work for the police?”

“I know most of the cops,” Jack said, shaking his head. “Sam Kelly would have mentioned something about him.”

Mary reached into her bag for another cigarette but then thought better of it.

The Bed

Mary sighed with relief as Hank released his grip of her shoulders and slid off to one side of the bed. For a moment she remained on her hands and knees, her face pressed into the pillow.

“That was nice,” Mary purred. She turned over and burrowed under Hank’s arm. “Can we do it some more?”

Hank chuckled. “Just give me some time to recover. I’m not eighteen.” Mary slid closer, leaning her head on Hank’s chest.

“Do you think my breasts sag?” she asked.

Hank ran a finger around Mary’s ear. She moaned with delight.

“Your breasts are perfect.”

Mary moaned softly. “I could do this all night.”

“Don’t you have to work tomorrow?” he asked.

Mary giggled. “Fuck work! Oh, Hank, you make me feel so alive. I haven’t felt this good in years. We could take pictures.” There was a long pause.

“Why would your husband leave a sexy woman like you alone in bed to get a package of cigarettes?” Hank asked.

Mary played with the short hairs on Hank’s chest.

“That’s a question I’ve asked myself a thousand times. My ex had a wandering eye. Variety is the spice of life, I suppose.”

“Were you faithful?” Hank asked.

Mary hesitated. “No. But he deserved it. Why are we talking about my ex anyway? I’ve got a Polaroid camera in the dresser. We could have a little fun.”

Hank ran his hand down Mary’s arm. “What if he didn’t leave you?

What if something else happened to him?”

The Incident

“I don’t know who he was,” Jack said. “But he came in here the other afternoon, asked for a drink and downed it, and then asked for a second.”

Sam Kelly nodded, scribbling notes on a pad.

“He was sweating, Sam,” Jack said, “and pale as a ghost. After his second drink he stares at me and says, ‘I just let a man die.’ It gave me the willies. I’ve been tending bar for a lot of years but this was one for the records.”

Jack paused for a moment, reliving the conversation with the stranger.

“He said he killed someone or he allowed someone to die?” the detective asked as he scribbled away with a short stubby pencil.

Jack took a breath. “He said he was standing at the corner just outside here, at the corner, and he was bending over to buy a newspaper. I don’t know which paper. Is that important?”

Sam Kelly shook his head.

Jack continued. “He was bending over the newspaper box when he heard something behind him. He turned around. An old man was lying on the sidewalk, his feet in the telephone booth, his mouth open. The old man seemed to let out a small cry. Oh yes, and the receiver on the phone was dangling loose. ‘I let him die,’ he said over and over.” 49

“Did he notice the old man before that moment? Did he drive or walk to the newspaper stand?”

“Walked, Sam,” Jack replied. “Said he lived in the neighborhood, but I’ve never seen him before. He didn’t notice the old man at all. He told me that the corner was empty when he arrived. Sam, how could you miss an old man lying on the ground? Oh ya, he said that the emptiness struck him as odd because usually there was always someone in the plaza or walking along the sidewalk. There was no one on the street or in the plaza. He used the word empty. There is always someone coming in or out of the drugstore. It’s open twenty-four hours. And the Canadiana Restaurant has a do on every night. But he used the word empty. The landscape was empty. And it was dead quiet. Sam, you can always hear Highway 27 from here. It’s constant. Like living next to the ocean. That roar is always there and yet he said he couldn’t hear the highway.” Detective Kelly looked up from his pad.