Page 112 of Bar Down, Baby

CHAPTER41

DEREK

“Hi Megan,”I say into my phone. Not that she’s answered. It’s her voice mail. “It’s been a few days. I’m giving you space. But I still want to talk this out. I uh… I hope you’ll let me. I’ll wait, but I hope you’ll talk to me. I know it’s not your problem, but this week has been… you know, it’s not your problem. Sorry.”

I swallow thickly, thinking about the past four days. I’ve gone through interviews, had my phone and my laptop searched, my office has been turned top to bottom. When they returned my phone, none of the phone numbers were saved. It’s just as well. The only ones that are worth remembering are burned into my brain. I couldn’t forget if I tried.

“Thank you for talking to Freddy. I know he told you. I asked him to. I also know that didn’t earn him any points as your friend. Thank you for telling him you’re okay.

“I know you had your thirty-six-week appointment this morning. You don’t know how grateful I am that you’ve made it to thirty-six weeks. This isn’t about me…

“I thought about coming. Not to be an ass. I just wanted you to know that I was there, in case you needed me. I would have left before you did. So you wouldn’t have had to see me. Freddy talked me out of it. He said he’d go. Did you see him?”

I take a deep breath and lean over the counter.

“I don’t know if you want to know, but I think I’m going to lose my job. It’s not great, I didn’t do anything wrong at work, but it’s probably what I deserve. I know you said you don’t want anything from me, but you don’t have to worry about whether I can support our little fella. I’ve been thinking of him a lot lately. Maybe Midge got to me.

“I want you to know I heard you. But I can’t just turn it off. And if you change your mind… just… change your mind? Please? Think about chang—”

The voice mail beeps, cutting me off. I put the phone down on the counter and stare at it, just like I have each night for the past four days. Staring at the only thing that allows me to talk to her. Not that I know whether she’s listening or not. That’s up to her. But I don’t want her to ever doubt that I’m thinking about her.

I scrub my hand down my face and dial Freddy’s number.

His number was doing something weird when I dialed it. Asking for a password or something. He said I had a digit off and fixed it in my phone.

The only ones programmed in my phone are Freddy and Megan.

My nerves have been fried. I can’t seem to shake them, can’t find a way to calm down. I’ve been running along the waterfront whenever I can’t stand my condo anymore. But the November fog and rain has moved in and it’s dark out now. Too risky.

I stare at my phone again and dial the only other number I have memorized forward and backward.

“Hello?” a soft voice answers as if she doesn’t know who’s calling.

“Deanna?”

“Derek?” She makes a noise in the back of her throat. “Your number didn’t come up.”

“Huh,” I say.

“How’s it going?”

“Is that a genuine question or are you being polite?”

“Since when have I ever been polite with you?”

“Fair point,” I say. I let out a heavy sigh and move over to the couch, reclining against it, trying to feign a casual posture. As if that will make this conversation easier. Or make me relax.

“You haven’t answered my question.”

“I don’t know.”

“That good, eh?”

“Yeah…”

“How’s Megan?” she asks. Her directness has always competed for my favorite and least favorite thing about her. I feel my back sinking into the couch, my shoulders slumping.

“She’s good,” I say. Then I clear my throat. “I hear she’s good.”

---