[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
doing what I was doing, and get the job done.
Delilah. My thoughts wanted to drift to her, too. I found myself remembering
the Bel-Air, remembering it with regret, and with longing. I shook my head,
irritated at my weakness. Let it go, I said to myself. Forget her. Focus.
I rubbed my eyes. I was just tired, that was all. A good night s sleep and I d
be okay again. First the bulletin boards and then fuck it, I was done for the
day.
I entered the city through the Queens Midtown Tunnel. I didn t have any
particular destination; pretty much any couple of Internet cafés would do. I
went south on Park Avenue, then drifted down Broadway. It was only when I was
heading west on Ninth, toward Greenwich Village, that I realized where I was
going. To Midori, and Koichiro.
Oh come on, I thought. What are you doing? Don t you have enough to deal with
right now?
Yeah, but I was so close. I d been aware of it the moment I stepped into the
frigid New Jersey air outside Newark airport. And it wasn t like I was going
to ring her bell or anything. I would just& park, for a few minutes. Near her
apartment on Christopher Street. I wouldn t even get out of the car. I would
just sit, and think, and feel what it felt like to be near my son. That wasn t
so much, was it? People did stranger things. They went to grave sites, and
knelt in front of tombstones, and ornamented the earth above the bones with
flowers, and why, if not to establish some frail communion with the shifting
shadows of memory? This would be like that. Just a little while. To feel him
nearby. To decant and briefly savor the vanished moment when I held that small
child in my arms.
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ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
I saw an open space just east of Waverly and decided it was an omen. I parked
the car and angled the side mirror so I had a view of her apartment, a
seventeen-story prewar building a block away. It was cold the last time I had
been here, the way it was now. I remembered everything from that last time. I
remembered every word.
When he s old enough, I ll tell him you re dead. That s what I was planning to
do anyway, after tonight. And you are. You really are.
And was he old enough, now? Had she already told him the father who now sat
not a hundred yards away died before he was born, and so for the son had never
even existed?
I sighed. It was Koichiro I wanted to think of, not Midori. I thought of a
line I d once read somewhere: You forget the things you want to remember and
remember the things you want to forget.
What the hell was I doing, anyway. It was going to be dark soon. I was tired,
and I wanted to be up at dawn in case Accinelli was an early riser. I should
go.
But I lingered a few minutes more, watching the building, watching the windows
I knew were hers, wishing I could undo the past and make a different present.
Just a few tweaks, a few different decisions, and maybe I would be walking up
to the doorman now, announcing myself, a present under my arm, knowing my son
and his mother were expecting me and eager for my arrival.
I glanced at the iPhone screen. Accinelli s car hadn t moved. All right, it
was time for me to go. Check the bulletin boards, a quick bite, then sleep.
I looked up and saw a couple walking down Christopher toward me on the other
side of the street, a small child between them. They were all wearing hats and
gloves in the cold, an Asian woman and a Caucasian man, and the child was
laughing, swinging by their arms. I blinked and looked harder, then, instinct
kicking in, slumped lower in my seat. It was Midori. And the child was
Koichiro.
My heart started hammering. I glanced out again, conflicted, wanting to watch,
wanting to hide, wanting to get out of the car, afraid to, resentful that I
couldn t, ashamed of my hesitation. And who was the white guy, walking with
Midori, holding my son s hand?
I sat there, slumped and cowering and impotent, and watched as they passed me
on the other side of the street, then as they stood talking in front of
Midori s apartment. After a minute, the man leaned in and kissed her. It
wasn t a long kiss, but there was an intimacy to it, a familiarity, that
enraged me. The man leaned over and said something to Koichiro, smiling.
Koichiro laughed, and the man turned and walked away. Midori and Koichiro
watched him for a moment, then went into the building.
The rage drained suddenly out of me, replaced by a hard, cold clarity. The man
was on foot. I could leave the car here, get out right now and follow him. I
was already wearing a hat and sunglasses, so no one would remember my face.
And gloves, so there wouldn t be prints. I didn t need any time, or any
special control over the environment because nothing had to look natural. I
didn t want it to look natural, I wanted it to look like what it would be,
like some faceless anonymous someone came up behind him and broke his neck and
was walking away unnoticed before the body even hit the pavement.
Midori would know, of course. But what could she do? She had no way of finding
me. How could she punish me? Keep me from Koichiro, maybe? Tell him I was
dead? Go ahead, tell him that, if you haven t already. I ll show you what dead
really is.
I watched him in the side-view, walking down Christopher. Maybe he was taking
the subway. Follow him down the stairs, then close around the corner, no one
in front of us, bam, drop him and keep moving, up another set of stairs to the
street again. Back to the car and gone like a ghost five minutes after.
Okay. I got out, locked the door, put the iPhone and keys in my pocket, and
headed smoothly after him. I wasn t angry now. It didn t feel personal. It was
just a job, like always. And I knew how to do it.
He was fifty yards up the street, moving quickly in the cold. He crossed to
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ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
the other side of Christopher at Seventh Avenue, heading south. My gut told me
he was going to the Sheridan Square subway station. Walking more quickly, I
cut over onto Grove to intercept him.
He passed right in front of me when I was ten yards from West 4th Street. I [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl freetocraft.keep.pl
doing what I was doing, and get the job done.
Delilah. My thoughts wanted to drift to her, too. I found myself remembering
the Bel-Air, remembering it with regret, and with longing. I shook my head,
irritated at my weakness. Let it go, I said to myself. Forget her. Focus.
I rubbed my eyes. I was just tired, that was all. A good night s sleep and I d
be okay again. First the bulletin boards and then fuck it, I was done for the
day.
I entered the city through the Queens Midtown Tunnel. I didn t have any
particular destination; pretty much any couple of Internet cafés would do. I
went south on Park Avenue, then drifted down Broadway. It was only when I was
heading west on Ninth, toward Greenwich Village, that I realized where I was
going. To Midori, and Koichiro.
Oh come on, I thought. What are you doing? Don t you have enough to deal with
right now?
Yeah, but I was so close. I d been aware of it the moment I stepped into the
frigid New Jersey air outside Newark airport. And it wasn t like I was going
to ring her bell or anything. I would just& park, for a few minutes. Near her
apartment on Christopher Street. I wouldn t even get out of the car. I would
just sit, and think, and feel what it felt like to be near my son. That wasn t
so much, was it? People did stranger things. They went to grave sites, and
knelt in front of tombstones, and ornamented the earth above the bones with
flowers, and why, if not to establish some frail communion with the shifting
shadows of memory? This would be like that. Just a little while. To feel him
nearby. To decant and briefly savor the vanished moment when I held that small
child in my arms.
Page 81
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
I saw an open space just east of Waverly and decided it was an omen. I parked
the car and angled the side mirror so I had a view of her apartment, a
seventeen-story prewar building a block away. It was cold the last time I had
been here, the way it was now. I remembered everything from that last time. I
remembered every word.
When he s old enough, I ll tell him you re dead. That s what I was planning to
do anyway, after tonight. And you are. You really are.
And was he old enough, now? Had she already told him the father who now sat
not a hundred yards away died before he was born, and so for the son had never
even existed?
I sighed. It was Koichiro I wanted to think of, not Midori. I thought of a
line I d once read somewhere: You forget the things you want to remember and
remember the things you want to forget.
What the hell was I doing, anyway. It was going to be dark soon. I was tired,
and I wanted to be up at dawn in case Accinelli was an early riser. I should
go.
But I lingered a few minutes more, watching the building, watching the windows
I knew were hers, wishing I could undo the past and make a different present.
Just a few tweaks, a few different decisions, and maybe I would be walking up
to the doorman now, announcing myself, a present under my arm, knowing my son
and his mother were expecting me and eager for my arrival.
I glanced at the iPhone screen. Accinelli s car hadn t moved. All right, it
was time for me to go. Check the bulletin boards, a quick bite, then sleep.
I looked up and saw a couple walking down Christopher toward me on the other
side of the street, a small child between them. They were all wearing hats and
gloves in the cold, an Asian woman and a Caucasian man, and the child was
laughing, swinging by their arms. I blinked and looked harder, then, instinct
kicking in, slumped lower in my seat. It was Midori. And the child was
Koichiro.
My heart started hammering. I glanced out again, conflicted, wanting to watch,
wanting to hide, wanting to get out of the car, afraid to, resentful that I
couldn t, ashamed of my hesitation. And who was the white guy, walking with
Midori, holding my son s hand?
I sat there, slumped and cowering and impotent, and watched as they passed me
on the other side of the street, then as they stood talking in front of
Midori s apartment. After a minute, the man leaned in and kissed her. It
wasn t a long kiss, but there was an intimacy to it, a familiarity, that
enraged me. The man leaned over and said something to Koichiro, smiling.
Koichiro laughed, and the man turned and walked away. Midori and Koichiro
watched him for a moment, then went into the building.
The rage drained suddenly out of me, replaced by a hard, cold clarity. The man
was on foot. I could leave the car here, get out right now and follow him. I
was already wearing a hat and sunglasses, so no one would remember my face.
And gloves, so there wouldn t be prints. I didn t need any time, or any
special control over the environment because nothing had to look natural. I
didn t want it to look natural, I wanted it to look like what it would be,
like some faceless anonymous someone came up behind him and broke his neck and
was walking away unnoticed before the body even hit the pavement.
Midori would know, of course. But what could she do? She had no way of finding
me. How could she punish me? Keep me from Koichiro, maybe? Tell him I was
dead? Go ahead, tell him that, if you haven t already. I ll show you what dead
really is.
I watched him in the side-view, walking down Christopher. Maybe he was taking
the subway. Follow him down the stairs, then close around the corner, no one
in front of us, bam, drop him and keep moving, up another set of stairs to the
street again. Back to the car and gone like a ghost five minutes after.
Okay. I got out, locked the door, put the iPhone and keys in my pocket, and
headed smoothly after him. I wasn t angry now. It didn t feel personal. It was
just a job, like always. And I knew how to do it.
He was fifty yards up the street, moving quickly in the cold. He crossed to
Page 82
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
the other side of Christopher at Seventh Avenue, heading south. My gut told me
he was going to the Sheridan Square subway station. Walking more quickly, I
cut over onto Grove to intercept him.
He passed right in front of me when I was ten yards from West 4th Street. I [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]