He asked if Kate wanted to come inside, and she said she didn’t know. She didn’t even know why she’d come. They were quiet for a while. A car two doors down turned into the drive, its lights flaring off the porch. The purse she held had whorls and odd stitching in the leather that reminded him of something.
Kate turned to him. “Take off that bike helmet,” she said. “You look ridiculous.”
He removed his helmet, then moved around her and unlocked the front door, and she stepped inside.
44
What about the part where I find a video the girls made hamming it up on the stage in Zilker Park? The girls’ faces full of delight and mischief—and, sure, maybe they’re a little high. How just beneath I can see their adult faces, who they might have been, given a little more time?
What about the part where the girls’ school photos arrived in the mail four days after they died? In the photos, they’re posed awkwardly, their chins resting on folded hands. Zadie, sensitive about her burn scars, tries to hide them. Elizabeth’s left eye squints a little. They’d already arranged to have the photos retaken the next week. The company called me to ask for the additional money. I said, They’re gone. You can’t have anything more. There was a long silence on the phone. Well, someone there needs to pay, the man said.
45
MICHAEL’S CAR WAS missing. Where it had been was a sign that said SNOW EMERGENCY ROUTE, TOW-AWAY ZONE.
He’d call 911 soon, he told himself, but he needed to think things through first. He walked west on Wilson, toward Clark Street, near where he remembered his mother’s neighborhood was. Ravenswood. He liked the sound of it in his head. Something timeless. He dug in his pocket for the scrap of paper with his mother’s address. He took deep breaths to slow his heart. Found a corner store and bought a fifth of vodka with the last of his cash. On his way across Wilson Avenue, a passing car slapped his jeans with slush. He found a small park down a side street and drank from the bottle, tried to stop his trembling.
The snow was a rumpled bedsheet in the road.
People plodded by on the sidewalk, their heads gauzy with light from passing cars.
He lit a cigarette and tried Elise’s cell phone again.
“What’s up?” a man’s voice said. It was filled with curiosity. Michael was seized by the image of the older man forking migas into his mouth at Juan in a Million.
“I need to talk to Elise,” Michael said. His jaw ached just underneath the pills and vodka.
“Elise? Is there an Elise here?” the man asked someone away from the phone.
“Why are you fucking with me?” Michael said, though he knew why. Knew somehow it would come to this. He saw his daughter curled on a bed in a wood-paneled room somewhere, the harsh glare of a corner streetlight.
A man in a parka sidled up to him. “It’s wonderful weather out,” he said in a little girl’s voice beneath his hood. Michael held the phone tighter, tamped down what was happening.
There was a commotion on the phone. Breathing. “Michael?” Elise’s voice said.
“It’s me, I’m here,” he said. “Who was that?”
“A friend. He thought you were someone else. I’m sorry that we got separated at the restaurant. I got a call from the hospital. Your mother was very upset.”
“So you just left?”
“I knocked and knocked on the bathroom door but you didn’t come out. So I took Alice with me. Didn’t the man behind the counter tell you?”
“Nobody told me anything.” There was a clicking sound coming from somewhere far off. Like bird bones snapping.
“My dad’s had some kind of relapse. His blood pressure dropped like crazy.”
“Put Alice on the phone,” Michael said in a voice he didn’t recognize.
In front of him, the man in the parka tilted his head and spread his arms wide in a gesture meant to calm Michael. Passing car lights burned in the fur of the man’s hood. “A light,” the man said, making a smoking motion with his fingers. “And maybe some of what you’re having there.”
“Daddy?” Alice’s voice said on the phone. His legs went limp. “We are playing Zingo.”
“Zingo?” His mind tried to pin down what this meant.
“When you win that’s what you say.”
“So Elise is taking care of you?”
“We’re going sledding tomorrow.”
“Daddy’s coming to get you.”
There was a loud crumpling in his ear, and at first Michael thought it was him.
“Michael?” Elise said.
“Is my mom there?” Michael said.
“She’s talking with the doctors right now.”
“I see.”
“I’m worried.”
“It’s going to be okay,” he said, feeling for a second like it might.
“What room?”
“What?”
“Hospital room.”
There was a rustling on the phone. “Forty-three twenty-one.”
“I’ll head over. I’m not far.”
“God, Michael, I’m so sorry about all of this.”
He hung up, and the man in the parka was still there, looking at him from under the hood. Michael passed him the vodka and he drank a little. “Where you from?” the man asked, wiping his mouth.
“Texas,” Michael said.
“Thought I heard some Texas in there when you were talking to your lady.”