Part 15 (1/2)
”-- Mouse is all that was left. She still thinks of herself as Penny, and I think she could still be Penny, if. . . well, with your help. And you calling her Penny, knowing to call her Penny, even after you'd been told otherwise -- that was just a really good omen.”
”I had some help figuring it out,” I confessed.
”I did get a little worried when you wouldn't talk to us,” Thread continued. ”I'm sorry about the e-mail Maledicta sent you -- she slipped that past me, so I didn't understand your reaction at first. It was very rude of her.”
”It's all right. I know that --”
”. . . and then when I got your e-mail back, I didn't know what to think. I --”
A sharp pain spiked at the center of my forehead, blurring my vision for a moment.
”-- Mr. Gage?”
”I'm sorry,” I said, ma.s.saging my temples. ”I'm sorry, I. . . I'm kind of tired. Could we maybe pick this up again tomorrow, or Sunday? I promise I'm not trying to run away from you again, I just. . .
right now I really need to get inside and rest.”
”Of course,” Thread said. She handed me a slip of notepaper. ”That's Penny's home number. Call us anytime -- if Penny answers, just say who you are, and one of us will take over.”
”OK,” I nodded. ”I'll call you this weekend, for su --”
She was leaning across the seats towards me again. At first I thought she meant to hug me, but at the last second she tilted her head sideways and pressed her mouth against mine.
”Sweet thing,” a new soul said, breaking the kiss. She traced a finger down the side of my face.
Outside the Buick, another car honked its horn. Penny's head snapped around towards the sound, eyes narrowing. ”What the f.u.c.k is she doing here?” Maledicta said.
I was scrunched back against the pa.s.senger door, still trying to process the kiss. ”I'm going to go inside now,” I said.
”Sure,” said Maledicta distractedly. ”But hey! Don't lose that f.u.c.king number!”
”I won't. . .” I stumbled out of the car, and Maledicta took off, nearly sideswiping the Cadillac that had pulled up across the street. As the Centurion sped away, the Caddy honked its horn again.
”Julie?” I said.
”Andrew!” Julie called, frantically rolling her window down. ”Andrew, what the h.e.l.l is going on?”
I crossed the street to the Cadillac with a good deal more trepidation than I'd felt approaching the Buick. ”What are you doing here, Julie?”
”What am I. . . Jesus Christ, Andrew, I'm looking for you! Where the h.e.l.l have you been since yesterday?”
”Didn't you get my note?”
”Note? What note?”
”The one I left you at your apartment this morning.”
Julie shook her head. ”There wasn't any note at my apartment.”
”Yes there was. Under --”
”First you cut out of work early yesterday, then you don't return my phone call last night, today you don't show up to work at all, and now. . .” -- she looked over her shoulder, in the direction of the departed Buick -- ”. . . now Penny gives me this look like I'm the Son of Sam and nearly takes my back fender off.”
”I'm sorry about that. I'm sorry if you got a little worried, too, but I did leave you a note.”
”Saying what?”
”Saying that the reason I wouldn't be in today is that I was going to see Dr. Grey, in Poulsbo, to ask about getting some help for Penny. Like you wanted.”
”Oh,” Julie said, instantly chastened. Then she said: ”So how did it go?”
”It went. . . OK, I guess. But listen, Julie. . . I know you're anxious to hear about it, but I am really tired right now, so would it be OK if I held off telling you until Monday?”
”Monday!”
”First thing, I promise. I'll come into work early, and we can --”
”Come on, Andrew! You can't leave me hanging all weekend, not after --”
”Tomorrow, then,” I said. ”I'll call you tomorrow, and we'll talk.”
I could tell she wanted to say no -- wanted to insist on hearing the whole story right then and there -- but I guess my exhaustion was obvious enough that she couldn't dismiss it. ”All right, tomorrow,”
she conceded. ”Early tomorrow.”
”I'll call you as soon as I've finished breakfast,” I promised. ”Good night Julie.”
I started to turn away, but she reached out through the window and caught my arm. ”Andrew?”
”Yes?”
”You're not mad at me, are you?”
”Mad at you? Why would you think I'm mad at you?”
”Well. . .” She glanced over her shoulder again. ”Never mind. But listen: instead of calling me up after breakfast tomorrow, why don't you come over to my apartment and have breakfast with me?”
”Come over --”
”Yeah, like old times.” She smiled, and her eyes shone. ”You know, I really miss hanging out like we used to. I think about it, sometimes. I think about it a lot, actually.” She let go of my arm and reached up to caress my cheek, the exact same gesture that that nameless soul of Penny's had made after kissing me. ”What about you, Andrew?” Julie asked. ”Do you ever think about that?. . . Andrew?”
FOURTH BOOK:.
MOUSE.
10.