Andy Abramowitz - Thank You, Goodnight

“Sure.”

“It seems to flow through Michel’s veins. But I guess that stands to reason.”

“Right,” I agreed vacantly.

There was a pause. “You don’t know who Michel is, do you?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Christ, Teddy, I’ve introduced you a dozen times.”

“Of course I know Michel. I just didn’t know she was Spanish.”

“He’s not,” she said curtly.

I sighed in defeat.

“Is it nice being oblivious?” Sara asked, her tone dry.

“That’s kind of a loaded question, but no, I don’t think it’s terribly nice.”

She was chuckling on the other end; I had no idea at what, but it was usually me.

“You keep a lot of secrets.” I pled my case through her laughter. “I don’t get a ton of information from you.”

“Well, I can’t imagine you’d pay much attention if you did.”

“That’s not fair, Sara. I mean, come on, you get together with your ex-husband and you tell me about it after the fact.”

“He’s not my ex-husband—that’s the point.”

“No, that’s not the point.”

“Why does that bother you?” she asked.

“I’m not saying it bothers me.”

“Teddy.” She took a hefty breath. “There are things Billy understands about me that you just never will.”

Her words were perfectly valid and perfectly true, which probably explained why they stung so much. The sentiment had been framed in the present tense too. Billy understands . That ran contrary to my understanding of divorce, which I’d always viewed as a parting of the ways.

“I didn’t mean for that to sound so harsh,” she said.

“It’s okay.”

“Aren’t there things that Mackenzie understands about you that I never will?”

She was being deliberately provocative. Billy and Mackenzie were hardly equivalents and she knew it. I gave it fair reflection anyway.

“I’m not so sure. Maybe.”

I buttressed myself against the functional architecture of the Dumpster. “Look,” I said. “I don’t know how much longer I can go on arguing with you.”

“And what does that mean?”

“It means I’m standing next to the most foul Dumpster in all of Pennsylvania. I’m asphyxiating. I’m actually surprised you don’t smell it through the phone.”

“I do, actually. I just thought you hadn’t showered.”

Then she said, “Want to call me in the morning?”

“Yeah. Have a good night.”

“I’ll send Michel your regards.”

“Yeah, tell her I wish her well.”

“He’ll appreciate that.”

The hotel side door had the clunky weight of the hatch of a sub. As I passed the game room—and I do not mean games room; the tiny space housed exactly one amusement, a seventies-era pinball machine featuring the image of a mustachioed race car driver grinning with seductive machismo—I became aware of two silhouettes shuffling down the hall. One of the silhouettes was slight and frail, the other large and oafish. The oafish one carried a duffel bag.

“Jumbo?” I called, walking toward them.

“There you are. I’ve been calling you.” He interrupted himself. “Where’d you get that soda?”

“From the soda machine.”

“Interesting.” Our voices sounded blunt and boxlike in the narrow corridor. “Listen, we have to leave.”

“Leave? What do you mean you have to leave?”

“One of my patients is having contractions. I have to get back to Baltimore. Pronto.”

“Are you kidding me? One of your patients?”

“She’s going earlier than I thought.”

“Jesus, Jumbo, you’re not an ob-gyn. Whatever it is you do at those births will happen just fine without you.”

“I’m sorry, Mingus. Nobody is more committed to this band than me, but today I’m still a midwife. People are counting on me.”

Hopefully, that wasn’t true.

“So, I’m supposed to just blow Mack off ?” I said. “We drove across the fucking state.”

“Calm down. I got the front desk to have a rental car dropped off. You stay and work Mack over.” He paused to snicker meaningfully. “Dad and I have to go and we have to go now. Mrs. Winchester can’t go into labor without me.”

Only Jumbo could manage to be practical and impractical simultaneously. It was a horrendously inconvenient time for him to develop a sense of responsibility.

“Besides, you and Mackenzie seem to do just fine on your own.” He winked and gave me a jocular elbow to the ribs. “Dad, I’m going to grab us a couple of Cokes and meet you in the lobby. We’ll jam the new Tremble tunes the whole way back! And Mingus, no more dustups. My old man won’t be there to save your sorry ass!”

On the other side of the glass, a gathering of diners filled the bistro. Simple wooden tables stretched back in long, narrow lines under pendant lighting as stylish, well-groomed patrons sipped wine in happy profile.

Mackenzie materialized from the shadows. She had slid herself into a pair of jeans but had not abandoned those voguish glasses, which bridged the thick flows of blond hair cascading down both sides of her face.

“How’s your hotel?” she asked.

“No better place to stay if you’re a chain smoker.”

I couldn’t stop looking at her. I was utterly disarmed by the sight of the person who for so long had inhabited my dreams, who’d haunted me, guided me here without ever knowing it. When she reached for the restaurant’s door, I was suddenly overcome by the need to confess, an unexpected urge toward forthrightness. It would be unfair of me to conceal the reason for my visit and allow the charade of a dinner between old friends to unfold as I lay in wait for just the right moment to pounce.

“Look, Mack, before we go in, I need to be honest with you about something.”

She eyed me suspiciously. “Okay.”

“I’m not out here for work.”

“What do you mean?”

I tried to breathe normally. “I came out here to see you. I drove out here with Jumbo. Jumbo was going to be the surprise I mentioned earlier. So was his father, actually, but that’s a whole other fucked-up story.”

She looked instantly traumatized, like I was one of her freak patients. “Wait. Jumbo is here with you?”

“No. Not anymore. He left.”

That didn’t seem to help. “Teddy, you’re scaring me.”

“You’re going to think I’ve completely lost my mind.”

“What’s going on?” But the mortal astonishment in her eyes conveyed the beginnings of understanding, and I felt that familiar shamefaced look creep over me.

With a grimace, I said, “We won’t make you audition this time. Promise.”

“You’re kidding.”

I shrugged.

“You want to get the band back together.”

I nodded.

“Is this a joke?”

“Depends how you look at it.”

“You’re insane.”

“I keep hearing that.”

“You drove to Pittsburgh to show up at my office unannounced and ask me to walk out of my practice and play music again. You actually did that.”

“It wasn’t unannounced. I had an appointment.”

Her stunned silence afforded me the opportunity to relay the whole sorry saga, beginning with my public flogging courtesy of Heinz-Peter Zoot, right up through Sonny, then Alaina.

“It’s happening, Mack. We’ve got all the old players back. We need you.”

Mackenzie was shaking her head at this pitiful little horror movie. Faces and names were popping up out of the past like zombies undead and stammering, with designs on dragging her away.

A pack of young women, coworkers I would’ve guessed, breezed up and maneuvered around us to enter the restaurant, looking at us as if witnessing the genesis of a domestic dispute.