Chapter 41
W HEN I GOT HOME later that morning, I knew I wouldn’t be able to sleep very well. So what was new about that? The kids were off at school, Nana was out; the house was quiet as a tomb.
Nana had put up another of her goofy “mistake” newspaper headlines on the fridge: Juvenile Court to Try Shooting Victim. Pretty funny, but I wasn’t in the mood for smiles, even at the expense of journalists. I played the piano on the sunporch and drank a glass of red wine, but nothing seemed to help.
I could see Maria’s face and hear her voice inside my head. I wondered, Why do we begin to forget, then sometimes remember with such clarity people we’ve lost? Everything about Maria, about our time together, seemed to have been stirred up inside me again.
Finally, around ten thirty, I made my way upstairs to my room. There had been too many days and nights like this. I would make my way up to bed and sleep there alone. What was that all about?
I lay down on the bed and shut my eyes, but I didn’t really expect to sleep, just rest. I’d been thinking about Maria since I left the station house on Fourth Street. Some of the images I saw were of Maria and me when the kids were little ? the good and the hard parts, too, not just selective memories of the sentimental stuff.
I tensed up in bed thinking about her, and I finally understood something useful about the present ? that I wanted my life to make sense again. Simple enough, right? But could it still happen? Could I move on?
Well, maybe. There was somebody. Somebody I cared about enough to make some changes for. Or was I just fooling myself again? I finally drifted off into a restless, dreamless sleep, which was about as good as it got these days.