He went to the Bay State the next night, but it did nothing to lift his spirits. D. J., Mickey, and McCoy were at the end of the bar. Brickman was in the corner, talking to a sweet-looking doe-eyed blond at least a dozen years his junior. McCoy moved down three stools and bought Paul a Guinness.
“Who’s Bricks talking to?” Paul asked. A charming guy when he wanted to be, Bricks had flirted with countless younger women before, but somehow this girl seemed too young, too innocent. Bricks drove a Porsche. He would offer the girl a ride home, and she would see the car and say yes, and why not? She was an adult, presumably. Tonight, for some reason, Paul found it annoying.
“Don’t know,” McCoy said. “You hear my news? I’m moving to Paris. Maybe at the end of the summer.”
Paul was shocked. Nobody ever moved from Northampton.
“Why is everybody going to Paris?” Paul said. “You know, that thing about the French liking American jazz players in France is just a myth. They hate jazz in France. They hate Jerry Lewis too. They hate everything.”
Brickman and the doe-eyed blond rose from the table and left. The girl was laughing, tipsy, perhaps already thinking of the story she would have to tell her friends back at the dormitory tomorrow.
“If he touches her,” Paul joked, “swear ta God I’ll put him in the hospital.”
“He could get a room next to Bender,” McCoy said.
“What’s Bender doing in the hospital?”
“Heart attack.”
“What?”
“Why does everybody say that?” McCoy said. “Am I mumbling? He. Had. A. Heart. Attack.”
“Bender can’t have a heart attack,” Paul said. “Bender spends five hours a day in the gym. If he can have a heart attack, I should be dead. How?”
They’d found him on the bike path out by the mall after he’d cycled to Bread and Circus to buy organic produce.
“Poor Bender,” Paul said. “What hospital is he in?”
“I don’t know,” McCoy said. He called out, “Does anybody know what hospital Bender is in?”
D. J. and Mickey shrugged.
It was raining as he walked to his car. He took stock. Bender had had a heart attack. His father couldn’t speak. Stella was old. Mortality was everywhere he looked. When he got home, he lifted Stella onto the bed, where she lay with her chin on her paws. The Red Sox were playing in Oakland, the game only in the fifth inning, though it was past midnight on the East Coast. He listened to the game on the radio and to the rain drumming against the top of his window air conditioner and tried not to think about where Tamsen was or what she was doing.
He got online the following morning.
PaulGus: It’s raining here today. Is it raining there?
HarrGus: NO
PaulGus: Are you lonely?
HarrGus: NO
PaulGus: Don’t you wish you could talk to your wife?
HarrGus: YES
PaulGus: Karen said she felt lonely even when I was home. I knew exactly what she meant. By the end it felt like when you’re on an airplane, sitting next to a person you’d like to talk to but you can’t figure out how to break the ice. You shouldn’t have to break the ice with your own spouse.
HarrGus: NO
PaulGus: The strange thing is, my main memories as a kid are of being alone. I remember being sent to my room. Sitting in my room alone, waiting to get out of trouble. Climbing trees and hiding in them for as long as I could to get away from everybody. I don’t know why I wanted to get away from everybody. Don’t you think that’s odd?
HarrGus: YES
PaulGus: What I don’t remember were times when the whole family was together. I mean, I remember the family being together but I’m always on the outside looking in. Sometimes I wonder if it had something to do with the accident. When I was okay but everybody else was hurt.
HarrGus: YES
PaulGus: I used to listen to all your classical records and I remember putting Barber’s Adagio on the hi-fi and fantasizing that I was walking somewhere alone. Like I was trying to convince myself I wanted to be alone. I was bluffing.
HarrGus: YES
PaulGus: Mom’s worried about me, isn’t she?
HarrGus: YES
PaulGus: Are you?
HarrGus: YES
PaulGus: To tell the truth, I’m scared I’m not going to make it. Scared I’m going to always be lonely. I’m tired of giving myself little pep talks. Are you scared?
PaulGus: Because of your faith?
HarrGus: YES
PaulGus: Have you ever been scared?
HarrGus: YES
PaulGus: I mean really scared?
HarrGus: YES
PaulGus: When? Sorry. You can’t answer that. Do you want to talk about it?
HarrGus: NO
PaulGus: Are you sure?
PaulGus: Are you still there?
PaulGus: Forget I said anything. Sorry.
PaulGus: Sometimes I don’t know when to leave well enough alone. I’ll talk to you soon.