Page 64 of Alone With You in the Ether

“Probably best. Nobody likes to listen.”

“No,” Aldo agreed, and shivered.

Brief silence.

“Have you heard from her? The girl, the artist.”

Aldo shook his head. “I don’t expect to.”

“Ah.” A cleared throat. “Better that way. Focus on work and then come home.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“I have a regular here whose daughter goes to Stanford, you know. It’s a good school.”

“Yes, Dad, I’ve heard of Stanford. It’s still not that close to you.”

“Better Palo Alto than Chicago. Maybe try Caltech?”

“Maybe after I finish my dissertation I’ll see if Caltech needs me.”

“Of course they need you, Rinaldo.”

“Right, sure, of course.”

His phone beeped in his ear, indicating another caller. He ignored it.

“So, where are we today?”

“The Baltic,” Aldo said. “No, industrial London. Dickensian London.”

The beeping went away, and his father laughed. “You’re just cold.”

“We’re slaving away in the—what’s it called? Where they process sausages, the refrigerator room.”

“It’s all refrigerated, Rinaldo. It’s meat.”

“Right, well, we’re there.”

“I’d prefer somewhere else.”

“Believe me, so would I.”

The beeping started up again, and Aldo sighed.

“What is it?” asked Masso.

“Someone on the other line, hold on—”

He glanced down at his screen, teeth chattering now as he pulled his jacket tighter, and he blinked.

“Dad,” he said, “I’ll call you back.”

“It’s okay, we can talk tomorrow.”

“Okay, thank you—”

His thumb shook as he hung up with his father.

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