“Really? To what?”
“Director of Acquisitions.” David seldom liked to discuss such things until they were in the bag, but he knew that Gary would mention it to Sarah, and maybe it would give her a little pleasure. And after the warm reception for the lecture, he felt that Dr. Armbruster, who had hinted about it already, might come across at last.
“So you’ll be swimming in dough!” Gary said.
“Yeah, right. Just as soon as I pay off my loans. And my rent, by the way, just went up.”
“I guess it helped to have that girlfriend of yours split it with you,” Gary said, fumbling to remove a packet of Dentyne from the console between the seats. “You want one?”
“No thanks,” David said. He knew that what Gary really wanted was a cigarette, but he had given up smoking the day Sarah had been diagnosed. Now he tried to make do with gum and Nicorette. “Linda was usually broke, anyway.”
“But not anymore?”
It was a sore spot for David, but he knew Gary meant no harm by asking. “No, not anymore. She’s going out with a hedge-fund guy.”
Gary whistled and nodded. “I know your sister never liked her all that much.” He flipped on the windshield wipers to clear some snow. “But if you don’t mind my saying so, she was superhot.”
“Thanks for reminding me.”
“Don’t mention it.”
They drove in companionable silence for a few miles, listening to a jazz CD Gary put on. As they passed the Calvary cemetery, David said, “When we were kids, Sarah always used to hold her breath when we passed a cemetery.”
“That’s funny. She says you’re the one who used to do that.”
“I guess we did a lot of things alike.”
“Still do,” Gary observed. “Two peas in a pod.”
There were times, David thought, when he sensed that Gary was just the tiniest bit jealous of the bond that David and Sarah had, the history that only they shared, the ability they had to read each other’s minds and instantly understand each other’s feelings. Gary was kind of a regular guy, a hale fellow well met—somebody who followed the Bears and the Bulls, who played in a weekly poker game and liked to barbecue bratwursts in the backyard. His father had owned the real-estate company, and Gary had just sort of fallen into it, but what used to be an easy living wasn’t so easy anymore. David knew that the family’s finances had been stretched … and that was before all the medical bills had started pouring in.
“Emme’s growing up so fast,” David said, looking out at the icy, empty streets. “I swear she’s grown a couple of inches taller in the last six months.”
“Yeah, she’s gonna outstrip her mother one day,” Gary said, “and maybe me, too. But this whole … situation has been taking a toll on her.”
“I’m sure it has.”
Gary exhaled, like he didn’t want to talk about it, though David knew he did. “She’s got a look in her eye,” he mused out loud, “especially when she’s watching her mother. Like she’s afraid of what’s going to happen next. Like she doesn’t want to let her out of her sight. I get the feeling that Emme thinks she’s supposed to protect her somehow, but she doesn’t know how.”
“I know how she feels.”
“So do I.” He lowered the window, spat out the gum, then stuck a fresh piece in his mouth. “And last night she had another nightmare, one of those doozies where she wakes up screaming.”
David hadn’t heard about the nightmares. “She gets nightmares?”
“Sometimes.”
“Have you thought about taking her to a therapist, somebody who specializes in dealing with kids?”
“I have,” Gary said, “and I will. But Christ almighty, I don’t know where the money is going to come from …”
“Let me help. Remember, I’ll be swimming in dough.” He was so sorry that he’d even mentioned his own precarious finances.
“Forget about it. That’s not why I said anything.”
“I know that. But she’s my niece, and I want to help.”
“I can handle it,” Gary said. “This market’s gotta bottom out soon. Stuff will start selling again.”
“That’s right, and then you can pay me back,” David said, though he knew he’d never accept a dime.
“Yeah, well, we’ll see,” Gary said, just to drop the subject. “If I need to, I’ll let you know.”
Pulling up at David’s apartment building—a dreary brownstone in Rogers Park—Gary said, “Home sweet home. Now find yourself another girl. Al Gore’s full of it, it’s going to be a cold winter and you’re going to need something to keep you warm.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” David said. “Thanks for the ride.”
Gary waved it off, but then, as David started to walk away, he called out, “Hold on,” and pulled something out of the pocket of his coat. It was a plastic bag, with something wrapped in foil inside. “Sarah wanted me to give you this.”
“What is it?” David said, though he could pretty much guess.
“A meat loaf sandwich. She says you’re too thin.”