Page 49 of Wham Line
Bobby hadcalledhim.
Some part of me wanted to pretend it had been a misunderstanding.Like in a romance novel, I thought.I’d overheard the wrong snippet of a conversation, and in my fear and insecurity, I’d jumped to the worst possible conclusion.But thiswasn’ta romance novel.And I didn’t think I was jumping to conclusions.I had heard Bobby say,I really needed to talk to someone.I had heard him crying.
If you tack an ending on it, my brain suggested.
If you put it in a story.
That was an old trick, and a good one.Isak Dinesen (AKA Karen Blixen) had said,All sorrows can be borne if you put them into a story or tell a story about them.And that’s a fancy way of saying it, but we’ve all done it.We’ve all found a way to give the arc of pain in our life meaning.People say things likeIt all worked out for the best, orEverything happens for a reason.And the reason is the story they tell.
For many people, death clarified.It magnified.It focused.People saw what really mattered.And, of course, they also saw whatdidn’tmatter.People quit their jobs.People moved across the country.People did all sorts of things.You couldn’t believe the kinds of things they did.
At some point, I must have slept, but it felt like an endless midnight until I finally dragged myself out of bed.By some improbable turn of events, it was late morning, and Bobby was still sleeping.I showered and dressed and made a call.And then I waited on the porch for someone from the rental car company to pick me up.
My other good trick, when something truly awful happened, was simply not to deal with it.(That’s a life hack, by the way, and you’re welcome.) According to my phone, I’d missed approximately three hundred calls from Millie, so, as I drove to Hastings Rock, I called her back on the rented Chevy Malibu’s Bluetooth system.
“DASH!OH MY GOD, ARE YOUOKAY?”
That was when one of the car’s speakers blew.
I’m not kidding.
I honestly had no idea if I’d opted for the rental insurance, and now it seemed like a pressing issue.
“HOW’S BOBBY?IS IT TRUE HE WAS POISONED?WE WERE SO WORRIED.KEME STAYED UP ALL NIGHT HE WAS SO WORRIED!”
“No!”Keme said in the background, a frantic edge to his voice.“I was playing Xbox!”
“WHERE ARE YOU?”
I don’t know if this is historically accurate, but being trapped inside a mid-size family car with Millie’s amplified voice blasting me from every direction made me think of how nuns must have felt if they ever got trapped in the belfry.
As I turned the volume down, I managed to cut in with “We’re fine.Everyone’s fine.Yes, Bobby got poisoned, but only a little.”
“How do you get poisoned only a little?”
“Dash,” Keme said, as though that were an explanation.
“It’s a long story,” I said.“I’m on my way back to Hastings Rock right now.”
“Dash,” Millie said, “things are really bad.”
“Did they arrest Indira?”
“What?No, but she and Nalini had a BIG fight, and Nalini left.And the sheriff STILL thinks Indira did it.”
A call from Bobby made the phone buzz.I hesitated, dismissed it, and said, “Okay, well, I’m working on it.That’s why I called; I need your help.I want to talk to Larry Lizard.”
“FromLive with Larry Lizard!I love that show!”
“Yeah.I don’t know where he’s staying, so if you could—”
“We’ll find him!Do you want us to get him for you?”
Get himsounded like Millie-speak for something felonious—kidnapping, for starters.“Uh, no, absolutely donot—”
“Because we can totally do it.I have these hair scrunchies that are SUPER strong, and Keme has his—”
The sudden silence was actually more terrifying than if she’d finished the sentence.
