Part 26 (1/2)
”h.e.l.lo,” Rick said.
”Oh, Rick,” she said, ”I've been here for months but haven't spent any time with you.”
”That's ... all right.”
”I haven't talked to you.” She added, ”I've been having many gluten attacks.”
”You've been very busy, I'm sure,” Rick said carefully.
”You need to find me. Yell out to me. Grab me by the shoulders.” Her speech quickened with each sentence.
”I don't want to do that,” Rick said.
”You are upset,” she continued, her voice staccato, ”because I am pretending with the others but being honest with you. It is easy to pretend. It's hard to be honest.”
Rick had no idea what she was trying to say.
Suddenly, she threw her arms around him. Startled, Rick paused before returning the embrace. She held him for several long moments, gently running her fingers down his back.
Just for a moment, Rick felt a familiar frisson.
”I have to go,” he finally said.
Rick let go of her hand, turned around, and headed for the exit. He walked slowly, as if waiting for someone to join him. When he got to the door, he was still alone. He put his badge against the card reader.
The door opened.
Rick walked through, and he did not look back.
The phone rang several times before Chris picked up.
”Rick, what's up?”
”There's something wrong with me.”
”So what else is new?”
”I'm serious, man!” Rick gripped the phone tighter. ”I've been having trouble recognizing people.”
There was a pause. ”Say again?”
”People at work, people on the team ... it's like it takes me a second or two to see who it is. And then I b.u.mped into Mariel at work yesterday.”
”And?”
”And I felt ... nothing,” Rick said, a part of him knowing it wasn't quite true. ”It was like she was a stranger.”
”What do you want me to do?”
”Make an appointment for me to see Dr. Ho again, right away!”
”I'll try to get ahold of Barbara, but she's out of town until next week.”
”Well, there's got to be someone else in the lab who might be able to-”
”It would be best to wait for Barbara to get back.” There was a pause. ”Listen, Rick ... our game this afternoon, it's at the Reflecting Pool fields, right?”
”Yeah, but-”
”Meet me at Foggy Bottom Metro an hour before the game.”
Chris and Rick rode the escalator out of the Foggy Bottom Metro station. As they emerged at street level, the entrance to the George Was.h.i.+ngton University Hospital appeared to their left.
”Think anybody in there can help me?” Rick asked.
”Sure,” Chris replied. ”There's lots of cute girls at G.W.”
”This isn't funny!” Rick snapped.
”Sorry,” Chris said. ”Look, I've spoken with Barbara. She can see you next week.”
They walked south down 23rd Street NW, and as they pa.s.sed the State Department, the Lincoln Memorial, resembling a Greek temple with its limestone and marble faces and fluted Doric columns, came into view. They followed the throng of tourists making their way around the ring road to the front steps of the memorial.
”Hey, the fields are that way.” Rick pointed to the south side of the Reflecting Pool.
”We have time.” Chris jerked his thumb at the memorial. ”Let's have a look.”
”At Lincoln?” Rick asked. ”Why?”
”Indulge me.”
Puzzled, Rick followed Chris up the steps to the front portico. Dodging tourists, they walked past the ma.s.sive Doric columns into the central hall, finding themselves before the sculpture of the seated Lincoln. The marble visage of the sixteenth president gazed unblinking toward the ivory needle of the Was.h.i.+ngton Monument in silent, benevolent contemplation.
Chris pointed. ”The man was hideous, wasn't he?”
”What?” The chatter of tourists echoed loudly through the hall. Rick was sure he'd not heard right.
”Abe,” Chris repeated. ”He was one ugly dude.”
”What are you talking about?”
”I read that one of his political opponents once accused him of being two-faced. You know what he said?”
”I have no idea.”
”He said, 'If I were two-faced, do you think I would be wearing this one?'”