Already Gone

PART II





– 15 –



My desk at work is covered with unread literary journals and ungraded student papers. I push them aside to clear space then take Lisa’s card from my pocket and pick up the phone.

I dial the number and wait.

Outside, the sun is cold and bright. I can hear the sharp twitter of students passing below my window. Their voices blend together then fade away.

After the fifth ring, the line clicks and the answering machine picks up, again.

“This is Jake Reese. I’m trying to get in touch with Lisa Bishop.”

I leave my number, then hang up and lean back in my chair. Diane’s ring is sitting on my desk. I pick it up and turn it over in my hands, then set it on the desktop and spin it like a coin.

The sunlight shatters off the surface.

“Jake?”

I look up. Doug is standing in the doorway.

“Got a minute?”

I pick up Diane’s ring and squeeze it in my hand, feeling it dig into my palm. “Come on in.”

Doug steps inside and looks around. He points to a stack of books on one of the chairs and says, “Mind if I make some room?”

“Make yourself at home.”

Doug moves the books to the floor, sits. “Who’s Lisa Bishop?”

“What?”

“The phone call.” He motions toward the doorway. “I overheard your message.”

“Eavesdropping?”

“I wouldn’t call it that, but now I’m curious. So, spill it. Who is she?”

“She’s a psychic,” I say. “In Arizona.”

“You’re kidding.”

“I’m not.”

Doug pauses. “Do I have to ask?”

I take Lisa’s business card off my desk and hand it to him. “I found it in Diane’s suitcase. I think she went to see her when she was down there last month. I want to know what they talked about.”

Doug reads both sides of the card, frowns. “Why?”

I open my mouth, but I don’t have an answer.

Talking to Lisa won’t bring Diane back, and it won’t change anything that’s happened, so why do I want to talk to her? Why do I care?

“I want to know what she was thinking.”

Doug nods. “How are you holding up?”

“Trying to keep busy.”

“Is it helping?”

“If you came to talk about my feelings—”

“Just asking a question,” Doug says. “You haven’t said anything to anyone. It’s been almost a week, and we’re all in the dark. Is there going to be a funeral?”

“Haven’t decided. When I’m ready to say something about it, I will.”

“Okay.” He hands me the card. “So, Lisa Bishop, the girl with the answers.”

“What do you want me to do? I can’t just sit around the house. I’ll go crazy.”

Doug motions to the stack of essays on my desk and says, “You could grade papers?”

“Lose myself in my work?”

“If it helps, sure.” Doug leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees. “Speaking of work, there’s something we need to discuss.”

I watch him and wait.

“Anne Carlson came to see me. She told me she gave you a ride home the other night and that the police were at your house. Was that for Diane?”

I nod. “What did she want?”

“She was concerned. She said you didn’t look good.”

“But what did she want?”

“She asked me to come and talk to you,” Doug says. “She wants my opinion on your mental state.”

“My mental state?”

“That’s how she put it.”

“She wants to know if you think I’m crazy.”

“She wants to know how you’re holding up under the stress and if your personal life is getting in the way of your job.”

“Is she going to fire me?”

“Of course not,” Doug says. “She wants to help.”

I stare at him and wait for him to go on.

Doug looks past me to the bookshelves behind my desk. “She mentioned a paid leave of absence until things settle down. It’ll give you time to get back on your feet.”

I let that sink in for a moment. “What did you tell her?”

“I told her I’d talk to you. She’s worried about you. Everyone’s worried.”

I turn in my chair and face the window. “What do you think of the idea?”

“If you think the time off will help, take it. Get your life back in order. Start working on a new book. Do whatever you like, it’s up to you.”

“Can I think about it for a couple days?”

“It’s a standing offer. Take your time and let me know what you decide.”

“Thanks.”

Doug slaps his knees with the palms of his hands, then pushes himself up and out of the chair. “Now that all that bullshit is out of the way, how about we go somewhere and get a drink and catch up? It’s almost happy hour.”

I shake my head. “Can’t, I quit.”

“Quit what?”

“Drinking,” I say. “I’m done.”

Doug watches me, trying to see if I’m joking. “That sounds rather drastic.”

I shrug.

“We don’t have to go back to The Body Shoppe if that’s the problem. You can pick the spot this time.”

“That’s not it. I quit drinking.”

“You’re serious?”

I tell him I am.

“And what brought on this insanity?”

“It was time for a change,” I say. “I can’t afford to be clouded anymore. I have to stay focused.”

“On what?”

“On what’s coming.”

Doug stares at me. “What exactly is coming?”

“I just can’t afford to let my guard down, not right now.” I pause. “I called Gabby.”

“You did what?”

“It’s fine. I explained the situation to him, and he offered to help.”

“Help how?”

“He’s going to find the two guys who attacked me.”

“Jesus, Jake.”

“I have to know who they are, and I want to talk to them, especially after what happened to Diane.”

Doug shakes his head. “Diane was in a car accident.”

I turn away, don’t speak.

“Come on,” Doug says. “Let’s go out. I’ll buy you a club soda, and we can talk about all of this.”

“Not tonight.” I point to the stacks of papers on my desk. “I’ve got essays to grade.”

It was a joke, but Doug doesn’t smile.

“Should I be worried about you, Jake?”

“No,” I say. “I’ve got everything under control.”

And like a fool, I believe it.