“What about Bibi?”
“Listen to yourself, babe. He’s not a child molester.”
“I didn’t say that. Don’t put words in my mouth. But he’s not like Hadley, hardly home. He’s going to be up there all the time. He’ll be an influence. She was instantly fascinated with him.”
“Retirees do tend to be more homebodies than hot young girls climbing the art-world ladder.”
“You think Hadley is hot?” Nancy asked.
“Not by my standards, not even lukewarm. But I have a lot of empathy. I can see the world through other guys’ eyes.”
“You might need to, if I poke out your eyes.”
“Here you are threatening your own husband, and you think maybe some worn-out, worn-down geezer with eight fingers is a problem.”
Nancy laughed softly. “I just don’t want any bad influences in Bibi’s life.”
“Then we’ll have to move to Florida or somewhere, because right now your sister Edith is just across the border in Arizona.”
Young Bibi had gone back to bed without milk and worried herself to sleep, afraid that the exotic and interesting captain would soon be gone, replaced by another bland and boring Hadley.
She need not have lost sleep. Captain lived above the garage for more than four wonderful years, until that terrible day of blood and death.
Now, standing at the window in her father’s office, Bibi saw what might have been dawn light refracting through the fog, faintly pinking it. She looked at the radiant dial of her watch. Almost time to call Pogo.
At 7:05, using the phone on her father’s desk, Bibi called Pogo. She expected to wake him, but he sounded as sharp as a shark’s tooth when he answered on the second ring: “Tell me.”
“I thought you knew it all.”
“Hey, Beebs. You never call me.”
“Don’t mom me, bro.” She asked about the surf rats with whom he shared an apartment: “How are Mike and Nate?”
“Still in bed. Probably abusing themselves.”
“I’m surprised you sound so together at this hour.”
“I was gonna catch a few before work,” he said, meaning a few waves, “but I wake up and it’s like milk soup. You’ve got to have a guide dog to surf this. Anyway, you had me scared, Beebs.”
“You mean the cancer thing.”
“Sounded too tough even for you.”
“But here I am. Clean and ready to tear it up.”
“You’ve always torn it up.”
“This has nothing to do with cancer. That’s totally yesterday. But I need some help, Pogo.”
“Why else do I exist?”
“That old Honda of yours. Does it have GPS?”
“Hell, Beebs, it hardly even has brakes.”
“Could I borrow it?”
“Sure.”
“Don’t you want to know why?”
“Why would I need to know why?”
“I might want it for a few days.”
“I’ve got friends with cars. I’ve got a skateboard. I’m cool.”
“Listen, this isn’t the boss’s daughter working you.”
“Hey, no, you and me grew up together, Beebs. Anyway, I don’t think of Murph as my boss.”
“He’s aware of that. I’d appreciate it if you don’t say anything to him about this.”
“Not a word. When you want the car?”
“The sooner the better. I’m at the store.”
“I’ll be there in like twenty minutes.”
“You’re the real thing, Pogo.”
“Beebs?”
“Yeah?”
“You catch a bad wave or something?”
“A real thunder crusher,” she said.
“Maybe you need more help from me than just the car.”
“If I do, I’ll let you know, sweet boy.”
After she terminated the call, Bibi opened her purse and took from it the book with the panther and gazelle on the cover. There was no title or author’s name on the spine, either, and no text on the back. When she opened the book and thumbed through it, the pages were blank. Or they appeared to be blank until faint gray lines of cursive script rippled across the paper, flowing as fluidly as water, gone before she could read a word. She paged through it more slowly, and twice again words appeared, shimmering as if seen through a film of purling water, but rinsed away before they could be read.
She examined the binding. There was no space for electronics or batteries to be concealed within the spine. It was just a book. But not just.