He moved through the kitchen to the living room, and then into the back hallway. He found Diane in the spare bedroom. She had a suitcase open on the floor, and she was taking clothes from it and hanging them in the closet.
She looked up at him. “Caught me. I was hoping you’d be a little later tonight. I wanted time to make your condo swallow my stuff without a trace, then get a bath and be waiting for you, like the vision of loveliness I really am underneath the road grime and dried sweat.”
He came over and kissed her. “I’m glad to see you took my invitation and brought some extra clothes.”
She held on to him so the kiss didn’t end. “I found none of the other girls’ stuff fitted me, so I threw it out.”
“You’ll have to work that out with the rest of the harem.”
She said, “I’ll rent an auditorium so we can all have a meeting.”
Stahl said, “You went on a call again. Tell me what you learned in the bomb call today that might help us.”
She pursed her lips. “He was different today.”
“Different how?”
“Different than I thought he’d be. In the first few calls, he was just a set of plans for a device. Everything was thought out and cold and intelligent. But today I could feel his rage and frustration aimed at me. He had to know that once the truck was parked in his line of vision his chance of hitting his bomb with a rifle was zero, and hitting me was near zero, but he kept firing.”
“Do you think he’s getting reckless, or is he trying to get close so he can see his device go off?”
“I don’t know.”
She closed the empty suitcase, put it on the floor inside the closet, and shut the door. “There. Now the day of our big fight I can just toss it all back in the suitcase and walk out within three point six minutes. No fuss, no embarrassment.”
“Good breakup planning. Odd that you’re not more self-protective about getting into relationships.”
“I can’t resist a man who would make my mother scream.”
“I’m grateful for that.”
“Besides, I’m learning from you,” she said. “This is on-the-job training.”
“So you’re studying me?”
She laughed. “I don’t want to be you. I want to be able to do what you do.” She looked at him and smiled. “You get that, don’t you?”
“Sure. But if I die on a call tomorrow, you’ll get a few surprises.”
“I hope the other surprises are better than that one.”
“You’ll suddenly realize you’re about as good at this as I am. You just haven’t given yourself permission to know it yet.”
“That’s because I don’t think it’s true yet. I think I need more time with you.”
“You’ll get tired of me,” he said.
“Maybe,” she said. “But there’s no longer much of an argument against living for the moment. And this is what I want to do for the moment.”
“Me too.”
That evening he had dinner delivered to the condo. The food was from an old-fashioned steak and chops place where he was a regular customer, but the restaurant had no private entrances or even quiet, out-of-the-way tables. As soon as Stahl had called in their order, he walked through the living room and dining room to search for signs that he had a woman visiting. They had both been too visible lately, and he didn’t want Diane recognized.
When he heard the buzz at the gate and looked out, he recognized the man carrying the bags and boxes. He was a busboy at the restaurant. He asked the man how he was, thanked him, and gave him a generous tip. Even though he knew him, he didn’t leave the door to put away the food until he had locked it again.
Stahl knew there was no doubt in the man’s mind that Stahl was entertaining a second person, or who was going to eat the second meal. But since he had not seen her or her car or heard her name, he had no way of knowing who the woman was. Stahl thought about her appearance, and was glad the man hadn’t seen her. Diane was too attractive, too memorable.
Stahl wondered if Diane was a product of his imagination. Had he met a pretty woman and imposed on her a set of features and qualities of mind that would make her perfect, rather than simply spending time with an ordinary woman and learning about her? But each day she surprised him. How could he have invented her when he couldn’t even predict her?
Stahl watched Diane closely for the rest of the evening, but the scrutiny only made him feel more affection for her. They made love again late in the evening and fell into a deep sleep together.
He woke the next morning about a yard away from her on the edge of the bed. He crawled closer to lie beside her. He studied her face, looked down along the bedspread at the graceful curves of her body where the fabric was draped, and stared at the way her dark hair swirled on the pillow.
Just a casual glance at her showed that she could never have trouble attracting men. How long could she stay interested in him?
She opened her eyes and stared at him. “Well? What do you think?”
“About what?”
“You were staring at me. Am I losing my looks already?”
“No. But I have been thinking. I’m—”
“Oh, shit. Not that. You’re not too old. You’re not getting me on the rebound. I don’t have daddy issues. Or mommy issues either. You’re the man of my dreams. Etcetera.”
“Etcetera?”
“You know. All the things men like to hear. You’re great in bed. The best of my life. Except that’s actually true, but don’t get complacent.” She sat up. “Women don’t really think much about those things, you know. We think about them if they cause trouble, like bumps in a road.”
“I wasn’t fishing for reassurance.”
“Hmm?” She seemed to be daydreaming, staring at the wall.
“I said—”
“I know what you said. I was just thinking about what I said. Maybe moving clothes over here wasn’t enough. Maybe I’ll move in an armoire and a grand piano. Then you won’t be able to face the work of throwing me out of here.”
They showered and got ready for work. While they sat at breakfast, he said, “Did you come to me because of the danger, the chance you were going to die?”
“Of course. Everything I do is because I’m going to die. But that will be true if it happens eighty years from now. I don’t want to waste a day.” She got up and put her dishes in the dishwasher. “Got to go. I’m not a captain. I work for a living.”
She stepped to the door and stopped. “And I absolutely will be here tonight. Unless our bomber has an exceptional day.” And she was gone.
17
The bomb maker was seeing things in gray this morning. He had slept badly, staying up too late, then finally falling asleep for an hour, then waking up again, always in the middle of a nightmare. After one of these awakenings he realized he’d been dreaming about the female bomb technician who had driven the truck in front of him so he couldn’t shoot and detonate the bomb vest.
In the dream she stared straight into his eyes, and that had given her complete knowledge of everything about him. He began to run along the streets and became breathless and tired. But every time he stopped, she was there ahead of him, pointing her finger and saying terrible things, which attracted angry people. He didn’t wake up but finally acknowledged that he had been awake, listening to the insistent sounds of daylight for some time—birds, a distant train whistle, cars—and swung his feet out of bed.
The bomb maker once had a wife, but now he was alone. He continued to hate her as though he still had her. He smoothed over the sheets and blanket on her side of the bed, and once again noticed that her side of the mattress was still firm, while his side had begun to develop a shallow valley. All he had to do was spin the mattress around, and his side would be the good side. But he never did it.