The sorrowful chanting increased. “I want to know why this happened.” His throat burned. The sizzle inched upwards, into his nose. He straightened his clothes.
“You know what I did.” Roberto sat primly, as if on a job interview. He placed his hands on his knees. “I did nothing.”
“What do you mean?”
“You know how she was, Danny. Lovely but impossible, right? Right? Constant attention, that’s what she needed. You couldn’t give it to her. I couldn’t give it to her — ”
“That’s not — ”
“When I asked for a little rest from time to time, to be alone for a while, just to think … no, no, no, she wouldn’t hear of it, she took it like a slap in the face. You know how it was.”
“No.” Clapping and chanting. Heavy rain. The cree of a faraway bird.
“She exhausted me, Danny, just as I know she exhausted you. You’re a fucking hero, man, sticking with her the way you did. Jesus, I couldn’t do it. She was funny, she was thrilling, she was exciting to be with … but finally, my balls were dragging the ground. I couldn’t do it anymore. Buy me breakfast, in the middle of the night. Take me dancing, when she knew I had to work. Come on, take a few days off, drive me out of town. You want to know something? I lost ten pounds, dating her. Ran me ragged. Finally, I had to say, ‘Enough.’ She went ballistic, I kicked her out of my place, didn’t see her after that. That’s all, man. The whole lousy story.”
Clapping, drumming, shaking beads.
“I knew she was high-strung, nervous … but crazy? Making bombs?” Roberto shook his head.
Danny rubbed his face. “She didn’t make the bomb.”
“No?”
“No.”
“Smitts?”
Danny flinched.
“Yeah, I knew about him,” Roberto said. “Another poor fucker she ran through the wringer. Like I said. You’re a hero.”
“I’m tired,” Danny croaked.
“Of course you are.” Roberto watched him closely. “I am sorry, Danny. And I understand why you’re pissed at me. She was your wife. I dishonored you, and I apologize. But I swear I didn’t push her — I mean, Jesus, if she honestly meant to …” He shrugged. “Well. I liked her. I really did. I always treated her with respect, even when I told her I couldn’t see her anymore.”
Danny stumbled and knocked against the chairs. Anna Lia, in the predawn dark of her place; in the blackness, now, of a big wooden box … “I feel sick,” he said.
Roberto stood. “There’s a bathroom just around the corner.”
Danny grabbed his belly, felt the gun.
“I’ve got to get back now,” Roberto said. “Are you going to be all right?”
Danny nodded. The motion made him dizzy. He saw Roberto reach for a phone. Security? The son of a bitch.
Staggering, bent, groping past a poster for Kissing Fresh breath mints, he found the elevators.
Hugh needed a haircut. Something — the sideburns, the back? — made his face rounder than she remembered. Was he slouching? He seemed shorter than before.
Had it only been two days?
He kissed her cheek, then gave her a full embrace. “Libbie, Libbie. I’ve missed you so much.”
“I’ve missed you too.” It was true, but saying it drained more strength than she could spare. The drive over here had left her limp.
St. Anne’s looked like a toy cathedral, one of those plastic buildings in a snow globe. Incense sweetened the sanctuary. Worn leather hymnals, curling candle smoke. Behind the altar, a gold cross, big enough to crucify an NFL linebacker. It reflected purple light from the stained-glass windows.
“If nothing else, history teaches us the importance of rituals,” Hugh had told her when they’d first discussed their wedding plans. “I think public declarations of love and faith really do ensure decent private behavior.” She’d laughed at his seriousness, but she’d also been touched by his desire to announce their union in front of their friends. Still, each time she entered the church, she wondered what she’d gotten herself into.
A boyish priest with black hair emerged from a creaky side door. “Are you Mr. Campbell?”
“Yes.”
“I’m Father Grady. Father Caskin sends his apologies — he was called away at the last minute to deliver extreme unction to an elderly parishioner. Quite sad.”
“Oh. Well, then …”
“Father Caskin just wanted to confirm with the two of you your previous annulments, your faith in Our Lord, your commitment to the church and to each other, to the holy vows you’re about to make. I can sit with you in his place, if you like. I’d be honored to share in your joy, to help you with anything you need at this point.”
Libbie flushed with shame. She didn’t know why.
“I can see the love in your eyes for each other. Always wonderful to witness.”
“Thank you,” she said. Her voice was flat, and she thought she might cry.
“Is everything all right?” the priest asked.
Libbie nodded. Hugh studied her face. “Yes. We’ll … be in touch with Father Caskin, then,” he said. “Sorry to trouble you.”
“No bother. If there’s anything — ”
“No no, we’ll come back at a more convenient time,” Hugh said, and hurried her out to the parking lot. “Honey, are you okay?”
“I’d like to go home for a while.”
“Sure. Of course. I’ll follow you.”
She nodded.
In her van, Libbie rolled the windows down. A calming breeze, the sweet scents of azalea, magnolia, thyme. Mid-June. The city in its splendor. She mustn’t forget, mustn’t lose track of the life around her or of her own good life, despite the haze in the air. To the north, the First City Tower. A large parallelogram stippled with gray solar glass. Solid. Serene.
In her rearview, she saw Hugh hunched above his dash, punching his radio buttons. How many times, when she was with him, had he played with those buttons when she’d wished he’d rest his palm on her thigh? By the time she turned the corner toward her house her eyes were moist. Was anything sadder than the body’s awareness of its growing impatience with a lover? Isn’t that’s what was happening? Days ago, as they sat together in her kitchen planning their wedding, Hugh’s annoying habits didn’t matter. His love of instant coffee. The bland oatmeal he insisted on eating for breakfast. Charming, then. Quirky. Oh, that’s just my Hugh. But now everything had changed. Anna Lia had wrecked it all. Libbie knew it wasn’t fair to expect Hugh to feel what she felt, to commiserate fully with Danny. These were her friends, not his. He barely knew them. Still, it wouldn’t go away — the sense that he’d failed her. Or was she using all this to cover her inadequacies?
She pulled into her driveway. Hugh stopped by the curb and wrenched his parking brake, a screech that raked her nerves. Three days’ worth of newspapers lay on her porch. Her roses looked parched.
“Next week, when I rent the U-Haul, it may be easier for me to pull around back, in the alley, and unload things there,” Hugh said. Early on, they’d agreed to live in her place after the wedding. Hugh didn’t have as much space as she did. Eventually, they’d buy a new house, but they wanted to take their time and shop around.
Next week. The words had the force of an ultimatum. Things. Space. You haul. Her ribs felt brittle. The thought of a large truck in her alley — the awful purring of its gears — of boxes, Styrofoam peanuts, crumpled old newspapers …
“I hadn’t thought about it before,” Hugh said. He was standing on her lawn, scanning the street. “My guess is all these postwar neighborhoods south of downtown were thrown together pretty quickly, to attract the returning G.I.s. They’re probably not up to current codes. I wonder if there’s asbestos in these walls.” For an instant he looked uncertain, as if next week frightened him too. “We should probably have it checked.”