Page 132 of One For my Enemy

“Don’t you want to prove it now?” he asked.

“No.” A deep exhale. “No, not yet. If it’s not real, then I don’t want to end it too soon.”

“And if it’s real?” he asked.

A long pause.

“It isn’t.”

“Right,” he exhaled. “Right.”

“Yes.” He could hear something tapping quietly on the other end. “Okay, so. Bye.”

“Wait,” he said, a little breathless. “Did you need something from Eric?”

“Oh. Yeah. I just wanted to tell him—” A shaky laugh. “My plan’s working.”

Lev picked at the label of his beer, shifting the phone from one ear to the other.

“Is it?” he asked.

Her tone didn’t change. “Yeah.”

“Well—” Lev glanced at Eric, who was idly observing his thumbs. “He’s here, if you want to speak to him.”

“No, I… I should sleep.” Another pause. “I’m clearly starting to hallucinate.”

“Right,” Lev said, clearing his throat. “Well, sleep well, Sasha.”

He thought he heard her breathing falter, like maybe she was crying.

“You’re not real,” she said, voice muffled. “You can’t be.”

After a moment, the line disconnected, and Lev gradually let his hand fall.

“Who was it?” Eric asked him, eyes closed.

“‘Do not call her,’” Lev told him.

“Ah,” Eric said, making a face. “Yeah. She fucks me up, man. I don’t… I don’t get her.”

Lev exhaled slowly.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” he asked after a moment, staring down at the phone.

Eric shrugged. “You said not to.”

Strange, Lev thought.

That was the sort of answer a friend might give.

“I thought she was dead,” Lev eventually told him.

“Yikes,” Eric replied. “Bummer.”

Lev picked up his beer, sliding his thumb over the bottle. It was thick with condensation. Had the phone call lasted for hours, or merely breaths?

“So,” he said. “Sasha Antonova’s alive.”

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