XXI

Savannah, 2062

I ENJOYED SEEING PAT, BUT a week after she left, my mood was turning negative again. Perhaps I was suffering from her malaise: not finding anything exciting in life. Perhaps I had my own type of malaise. Just as I couldn't help Pat with her problem, I couldn't solve my own.

As another month ended, I prepared the final examination for the course I was teaching. I had thought I would look forward to the end of the term and being relieved of a duty that was alien to me. In reality, I found the prospect of the course concluding depressing. I would have less work to do and more time on my hands.

The day came when I delivered my final lecture. A few students came up to me and told me they enjoyed the course and learned a lot. If I were a cynic, I would have thought that they were angling for better grades. I chose to think that they were being honest. Most students, however, simply pushed on to their next courses or went home.

I noted that Jacqueline had exited this final class early. The next day she saw me at Mrs. Pinckney's house. "Sorry I had to duck out of your class early. Did I miss anything important?"

"I was probably just summing up at that point."

"Well, I guess I better start studying for the final. You're not going to make it too tough?"

"I think I've been fair up to this point. I don't intend to change now."

"Yes, you've been very fair. I appreciate the extra help, especially when I had to miss a class. And I did like the course. I never thought I'd be saying that about an econ course."

"Glad you enjoyed it," I replied simply.

"Well, thanks again." Jacqueline gave me a peck on the cheek and rushed out the front door. Through the window, my gaze followed her. A young man, at least a decade my junior, was waiting for her. They kissed and then walked briskly toward Abercorn Street.

For a few days I was busy grading final examinations. Jacqueline's effort was reasonably good. It deserved a B-plus. I gave her an A-minus.

I saw her a few days later. "I guess an A-minus was fair, but I was hoping for an A."

And I was hoping for a blow job, I thought of replying, but I kept the conversation on a professional level. "I tried to be fair to all students."

"I'm sure you were, Mr. Lendeman," came the cold rejoinder.

After the term ended, I felt isolated. Jacqueline chose not to lay out on the chaise lounge in the garden. My consulting assignments dried up. The regional energy council had no work for me. The weather was too sultry for long walks around the squares and through the parks. I remained in my room for long periods, playing mindless games on my computer.

Even Mrs. Pinckney seemed to be absent. In fact, she was gone for three days to visit relatives in Augusta. But even when she returned I rarely saw her. This was just as well. I wanted to be alone. At least that's what I told myself.

I began a list. I called it my "tally." In actuality it consisted of two lists: what was positive in my life and, conversely, what was negative. The latter list soon became much longer than the former. The positive list tended to contain more trivial points, such as: I like fried chicken; I like strong coffee. The latter list was composed of more meaty fare: consulting is tedious; I'll never find employment I like; I have no friends.

Both lists were written on one piece of twelve by six notepaper. Each list was assigned one side. I had to write small to permit all of the "negative" items to fit.

I began to carry the tally around, so that I could add thoughts as they came to mind. I realized that the tally was becoming an unhealthy obsession. But, in a perverse way, that thought pleased me.

On a hot day, much too hot and humid to work outside, I was reading in the front parlor. Mrs. Pinckney approached me. "I think this might be yours." She was holding my tally, which must have fallen out of my pocket.

I snatched it from her hand. "I hope you didn't read it," I blurted out, injudiciously.

Mrs. Pinckney was not one to shrivel in the face of an accusation. "I had to look at it to find the owner. I hope you don't mind my saying this, but it's one of the saddest things I ever saw. I think you need some help."

"As strange as it might seem, that piece of paper is good therapy."

"You know what I think?" Perhaps Mrs. P. expected a comment from me, encouraging her to continue. I said nothing. She continued, anyway. "I think you should come to church with me, meet my minister. He's a very caring man. I think you need support and fellowship."

"Thank you for your concern. But I think I can take care of myself."

"Are you so sure?"

"Quite sure. And a church would hardly be the answer."

She looked appraisingly at me, no doubt wondering what sort of antipathy I held for religion. I, of course, was not going to explain. "Think it over, James. I've known you for almost two years. You need more in your life than what's found within these walls." With this admonition, Mrs. Pinckney turned and left the room.

I stuffed the tally in my pocket, making a mental note to be more careful with it in the future.

September is still a hot month in Savannah. A change in season is not apparent until October. Mrs. Pinckney spotted me in the parlor one afternoon.

"I'm leaving a salad in the refrigerator because I'm going to be spending some time at Mickve Israel this evening."

"Thanks. By the way, you told me once that you'd explain why you occasionally help out at the synagogue. You never did."

"Oh, did I promise that?"

"Yes, you did."

"Well, it's really quite simple. You know my full name is Charlene Minis Bulloch Pinckney. I must have told you about the Bullochs."

"That you did."

"Then it's time to cover Minis. The Minis family was a family of early Jewish settlers in Savannah. I've tried to trace back the origins of the name in my family, but I was never totally successful. It was used from time to time as a middle name for some in the family extending back into the nineteenth century. I'm not sure there ever was a true Minis in my background or whether it was picked up as an old Savannah name. At any event, even if I don't have a drop of Jewish blood in me, I wanted to maintain contact with the Jewish community here. I have a number of Jewish friends, and I help out at the synagogue particularly around the high holy days."

"Interesting story."

"Yes, I think so. As I recollect, I offered to bring you to the Presbyterian Church and you refused. Would you be more interested in Mickve Israel?"

"If you want to know if I'm Jewish, I'm not, although I think one of my great-grandfathers might have been."

"I still think you need some religion in your life."

"And I respectfully disagree. Some people find comfort in religion and some people are hurt."

"Hurt by religion? I can't imagine how."

"There was something called the inquisition."

"That was centuries ago. You were never subjected to the inquisition."

"Of course not." I did not want to explain why my feelings were so strong. That would have required talking about a painful period in my life. No, Mrs. Pinckney didn't need to know. Not now, not ever.

Near the end of September, my phone rang around nine o'clock in the evening. As I went for the phone, I sensed—I don't know why—that a woman was calling. I hoped it was Pat Auriga. But when I reached the phone I saw from the display that it was a woman, but not Pat. "And to what do I owe this honor, Madame Secretary?"

"Just thought I'd give you a call to see how you're doing," Kate replied.

I was suspicious. Kate never made a casual call; she always had a purpose in mind. "I'm doing okay. How about you?"

"Just okay." Kate ignored my question. "I was hoping to hear that you were doing very well."

"I receive some disability pay from the government. A very small amount, I might add. What else can I say?"

"Disability pay, my ass." An image of Kate's tight buns came to mind while she continued. "Seriously, are you enjoying Savannah? I can't imagine why you're down there. Did you really need to escape so desperately?"

"I'd rather not relive that period. It's past. I try to put it aside, but it can't be undone."

"And you hold me responsible?"

"Kate, it's too complicated." I wanted to switch the subject. "Let's talk about you. I like to talk about success rather than failure."

"Damn it, you are feeling low. You know, you're not the only one with problems. Let me tell you about one of my problems. That's one of the reasons I called. And I'm going to ask you to help me."

Now I was completely mystified. I merely said, "Me?"

"Yes, you, my good, old friend." I was surprised by the categorization. "I'm going to need you to come to Washington." Now I was even more surprised.

"You have to be kidding."

"I wish I were kidding. This is not a joking matter. I need some medical treatment. I'll explain more when you get here. I need you to watch over a few things for a few weeks, maybe even a month or so. Can you get here tomorrow?"

"No way. I have to do a few things here." I lied.

"But you will be able to help me out?"

I hesitated. "Yes, I guess so. I assume I'll get paid."

"You'll get full consultant's pay and use of an apartment, gratis."

"In addition to the pittance I already get from the government?"

"Sure. Do we have a deal?"

"I guess so. I'll try to get there on Friday."

"Make sure it's Friday. Take a morning flight."

"I'm not sure there's a morning flight from Savannah."

"Then go through Atlanta. I need you here. Confirm your arrangements with my admin assistant."

"What's her name?"

"Sam."

"Samantha?"

"No, Samuel, you sexist pig."

After the call ended, I asked myself, Why do you jump when Kate asks for something? That was the nature of our relationship. Whether she was my boss or not, I sensed it would never change.