Already Gone

– 51 –



I tell Oscar I’ve changed my mind about the tomatoes and ask for a bottle of whiskey instead.

He sells it to me without a word.

When I get home, I set the package on the counter, take a glass from the cabinet and pour myself a drink.

Diane is sitting outside on the porch with a book open on her lap. When she hears me, she stands in the doorway and says, “What did he say?”

“I didn’t call him.”

“What?” She slaps the book closed. “Why not?”

“It wasn’t the right thing to do,” I say. “Doug is involved in this, too, and I don’t want to get him in any more trouble than he’s already in.”

“But—”

I pick up the glass and take a drink.

“And now you’re drinking again?”

“That’s right,” I say. “I’m drinking again.”

Diane crosses the room to the bar. When she sees the package she stops. “What’s this?”

“It was delivered to the market,” I say. “Oscar signed for it.”

“Did you open it?”

I nod, take another drink.

“Who sent it?”

“Gabby.”

Diane raises one hand to her mouth. She sets her book on the bar and walks around to the counter, slow. “He knows we’re here?”

“It looks that way.”

“What is it?”

“Open it, see for yourself.”

Diane pulls the box toward her, lifts the top, and looks inside. “Oh my God.”

I turn away and pour another drink.

Diane is silent.

“There was a note.”

“Where is it?”

I take the crumpled yellow Post-it out of my pocket and read, “I’m sorry, Jake. Gabby.”

“He’s sorry?” Diane takes the note from me. “That’s all it says?”

“That’s all.”

She flips the note over and checks the back, then drops it next to the package. “What do you think?”

“I don’t know.”

Diane turns back to the box. She reaches inside and lifts out the dove statue. Then she sets it on the counter and runs her hands over the surface. “My God, it’s still sealed.”

I take another drink.

“Do you see what this is?” She looks at me, her eyes wide, glowing. “He’s trying to make amends. He knows he made a mistake, and he wants to make it up to you.”

“I don’t think so.”

“What else could it be?”

I tell her I don’t know, and it’s the truth.

I reach for the bottle to pour another drink, and then I feel Diane’s hand on top of mine, stopping me.

“Don’t,” she says. “Not tonight.”

I set the bottle down.

“Don’t you see? We’re free.” She leans forward and kisses me. “It’s over.”

I start to tell her that the police might see things differently back home, but then I notice the way she’s looking at me, and the words don’t come out.

She kisses me again, then takes my hand and leads me back to the bedroom. For the moment, nothing else matters.





That night, lying next to Diane and staring up at the ceiling fan as it moves hot air through the room, I try to think of all the reasons Gabby might’ve sent the statue.

I know that everything he does, he does for a reason, but I can’t figure this one out.

What bothers me most is the note.

I tell myself it’s possible that Diane is right, and that Gabby sent the bird as an apology, but in all the years I’ve known him, I’ve never once heard Gabby say he was sorry. The idea that he’d start now just doesn’t make sense.

There has to be another reason.

I stay awake for a long time, going over every possibility. When sleep finally comes, it covers me like a wave, dark and dreamless.





When I wake up the next morning, I’m alone.

I sit up then slip on my pants and walk out to the kitchen. I take a bottle of water from the refrigerator and drink half of it, then cross the living room to the sliding glass doors and look out at the ocean.

I don’t see Diane.

I finish the water, then set the empty bottle on the bar and call her name. There’s no answer, so I open the glass doors and step outside. Diane isn’t on the porch, but there are two couch pillows on the floor in the corner.

I walk over and pick them up.

The dove statue is lying underneath, broken and empty.





Both the .38 and the SUV are gone, so I walk down the path to the beach and head south into town. Once I get there, I go into the market and ask Oscar if he’s seen Diane.

“Not today,” Oscar says. “Is she coming in?”

I tell him I don’t know, then describe the SUV and ask if he’s seen it around town.

He shakes his head. “No, I’m sorry.”

I brush it off, say, “She’ll show up. We’re celebrating tonight.”

Oscar smiles, then reaches behind the counter and pulls out a bottle of red wine. He hands it to me. “For your celebration?”

I smile. “I’ll take it.”

Before I leave, I buy two steaks, several peppers, and another bottle of whiskey to go along with the wine. Oscar puts it all in a white canvas bag and hands it to me over the counter. I thank him, then walk out into the sunlight.

On my way home, I stop at the pay phone and call Doug. I let the phone ring several times, but he doesn’t answer.

I hang up and dial his office number.

I’m not sure what day it is, but when he doesn’t answer his office phone, I tell myself that he’s probably in class, and there’s no reason to worry.

I don’t leave a message.

I slip the bag’s canvas strap over my shoulder and walk down to the beach. On the way home, I stop and sit next to one of the wooden no-swimming signs and watch the sunlight reflect white off the surface of the water.

I stay there for a long time, letting the image burn into me. Then I take the whiskey bottle from the bag, break the seal, and drink.





Diane still isn’t back that afternoon.

I wait until evening, and then I take the steaks and peppers out to the grill to cook. I stand over them with a spatula in one hand and the open wine bottle in the other while the sun drops below the horizon and the sky above me burns itself black.

When the steaks are done, I put them on two plates and set them on the kitchen table. I finish mine, then switch plates and eat Diane’s, too, washing them down with the rest of the wine.

I stack the plates on top of each other and drop them in the sink. Then I grab the whiskey bottle and go back to the table.

A minute later, someone knocks at the door.

At first I think it’s my imagination, and I don’t move. Then the knocking comes again, louder this time.

I push myself up and start down the hallway toward the front of the house.

I slide the bolt lock and open the door.

Gabby is standing outside with an older man I don’t recognize. Gabby smiles, the other one doesn’t.

“Hello, Jake,” he says. “You sure are a hard man to find.”