Alex Barclay - The Caller

‘You don’t need to reconstruct everything in your life, Joe. I’m here, I’m not a dead body. You can just ask me what I do when my doorbell rings.’

Joe rolled his eyes.

‘Go ahead,’ said Anna. ‘Ask me what I do when my doorbell rings. How much fun it is for me.’

‘Spare me,’ said Joe. ‘It’s pretty clear what happens and how all this crap piles up in the front room.’

‘You’re leaving some things out. Here’s what happens: the doorbell rings and wherever I am in the house, I freeze. Then my heart jumps and starts to beat faster. I wonder will I go and open it or will I wait until they go away. If I’m near a window, I can check. I look at the uniform, see if it’s correct, I look at the person’s face, see if I am looking at an honest one, I see if I can see their truck, I check if anyone else is out there on the street. In the middle of this, guess what else I’m thinking about?’

Joe stared at her and it was clear that anger was winning the fight over sympathy.

‘Maybe,’ said Anna, ‘if you paid attention at home, you would have a better understanding of things that are not black and white or follow some sequence that you imagine in your head because you’re not around to see it.’ She walked across the room and yanked open the top drawer of an old mahogany bureau, grabbing with both hands the piles of cards inside it. ‘Sometimes,’ she said, throwing the contents at him, ‘things don’t always work out the way you think.’

Joe stood still as all around him FedEx and UPS failed delivery slips floated to the floor.

‘Shaun?’ Anna knocked on the bedroom door lightly and pushed it open. The quilt was gathered in a huge mound, hiding his face… and the face of the girl lying beside him she realized when she saw two abandoned strappy sandals on the floor. Anna’s stomach gave a jolt. She walked backwards out of the bedroom and closed the door quietly behind her. The she stormed back in to Joe.

‘That little… salope is in there with Shaun,’ she hissed.

‘Oh,’ said Joe. ‘No.’

‘Yes. In bed with him!’

Joe stared at her. ‘I didn’t think she’d be on the floor.’

‘She will be in a minute. And the smell of beer in there!’

‘OK, OK, don’t do anything crazy that will scar him for life,’ said Joe. ‘Let’s see how he handles this first.’

She glanced towards the door.

‘No,’ said Joe. ‘Come back to bed for a few minutes. I promise I’ll de-stress you.’

‘So, we’re friends now?’ she said.

‘Of course we’re friends. We’re united against the teenage enemy.’

Anna choked back a laugh, then put her finger to her lips. ‘Shhh,’ she said. ‘I’m going down for breakfast.’

‘I’ll make it,’ said Joe. He jumped up and ran after her to make sure she wasn’t going to do anything. He ran back at the last minute and grabbed a pair of jeans in case Tara was going to arrive down for breakfast and be scarred too. Anna was sitting at the table with a glass of grapefruit juice. Joe took charge of making pancakes and distracting her. With every break in the conversation, she was leaning an ear towards the door.

‘Stop that,’ said Joe, looking around at her.

She shrugged. ‘I’m just-’

‘I know,’ he said. ‘But…’

‘Have you got a dentist’s appointment this morning?’ she said, glancing at a calendar pinned to the wall.

He paused. ‘Maybe.’

‘Do you need a hug?’ she said, smiling.

‘What are you talking about? Do I look like the kind of guy who needs a hug before going to the dentist?’

‘Yes.’ She walked over to him, grabbing him from behind, leaning her head against his back. He pretended to shake with fear. They were laughing when Shaun strolled in, dressed in board shorts and a T-shirt, his eyes puffy, his hair on end.

‘Get a room.’

Anna’s smile faded quickly.

Shaun pulled a carton of orange juice out of the fridge, drank straight from it, then put it back in.

‘Is that empty?’ snapped Anna.

‘Yes,’ said Shaun.

‘Stop doing that,’ said Anna. ‘I’ve told you over and over.’

‘Big deal,’ said Shaun. ‘It’s just a carton.’

‘If I’m going to the store, I don’t know what I need to buy if you keep…’

Shaun flung the fridge wide open, knocking bottles against each other, pulled out the carton and threw it in a pile for recycling.

‘There,’ he said. He waited a beat. ‘Hey, Mom? If you’re going to the store? We need juice.’

‘Don’t be a jerk,’ said Joe.

Shaun made a face as he put a bagel into the toaster.

‘What time did you get home last night?’ said Anna.

‘About three o’clock,’ said Shaun. ‘I had to drop Tara home.’

‘Really?’ said Anna, raising an eyebrow to Joe.

‘Yeah,’ said Shaun. ‘Why?’

Anna stood up and walked upstairs, opening the door to Shaun’s room, then the bathroom. No Tara. She walked back into the kitchen and sat down. She shook her head at Joe. Anger simmered behind her eyes. Shaun grabbed his bagel, smeared cream cheese on it and left the knife on the counter top by the open tub.

‘Your knife,’ said Anna. ‘The cheese.’

Shaun kept walking.

Joe slid into the seat beside her. ‘There it is,’ he said. ‘The Mom’s approach to a problem. You start by identifying the issue – girl in Shaun’s bed – you can’t say it right out, so you survey the child going about his business and pick apart all the other things he’s doing. That’s good.’

‘Ugh,’ she said. ‘Tara. Ugh.’

‘Hey, even I feel dirty.’

Shaun stuck his head around the door, his cell phone in his hand. ‘Guys, I’m going out to meet Tara.’

Dr James Makkar had accepted two important things about Joe Lucchesi: a. he didn’t do alternative therapies to alleviate stress, therefore, his symptoms and b. he was surgery-phobic. Joe and Dr Mak had an understanding.

‘Hello, Joe. Nice to see you for a scheduled visit.’ Dr Makkar was dressed in white scrubs with a white mask hanging around his neck. He was in his late thirties, but his silent-movie grooming added years. ‘Need me to wipe that sweat off your brow?’

‘You’re not supposed to make fun of me,’ said Joe.

‘You are looking for a nurturing environment?’ said Makkar.

‘I don’t know why I come here,’ said Joe.

‘You need me.’

‘Right. But thanks again for helping me out last time.’

‘Temporarily,’ said Makkar. ‘With all the limitations you put on me, my hands are tied. Which is obviously how you like them.’

Joe smiled.

‘Follow me.’

Joe walked behind him down the short corridor.

‘Take a seat. Let’s have a look at that jaw.’

Joe sat down and opened his mouth when he was told.

‘How’s work?’ said Makkar.

‘Crap. How about you?’

‘Fantastic, of course. It’s all about smiling.’

‘Or crying out in pain.’

‘You wouldn’t come to me if I caused you pain. The amount of times I’ve numbed your mouth before you even knew I was in the room. Your condition causes you pain; I make it go away. I’m good cop.’

Joe raised his eyes, one of the few responses open to a patient in a dentist’s chair.

‘You get very close to people’s eyes in my business,’ Makkar had told him before. ‘We see right in, all those little reactions. I think I’d make a great jury consultant if I wasn’t doing this. Or a cop, of course.’ Joe wanted to smile at the thought of this slight, dapper Indian cop, patrolling the 75th precinct, but he couldn’t.

‘OK,’ said Makkar. ‘First of all, how are your symptoms?’

‘Not as bad as the last time. Pain in my jaw, cracking when I open my mouth.’