Damn her. She was always right.
Life was too short to settle for Eva. A part of me had always known that I’d stayed in the relationship longer than I should have because I lacked the confidence to believe I’d find someone else who would accept me and my condition. I was also smart enough to know that would never happen until I fully accepted me. When I started to wear contact lenses, I put up a bland, brown veil of normalcy not only to the rest of the world but to the person on the other side of the mirror. I no longer had to concern myself with the lingering stares or questions. I no longer had to deal with my condition. I no longer had to come to terms with who I was, as my mother had said would be so important when I was just a boy heading off to grade school. I hadn’t dealt with the issue. I’d simply covered it up, literally and figuratively. Mickie’s wanting me to tell Eva that I deserved to be treated better, that she was not good enough for me, had nothing to do with Eva. It had to do with me. Mickie recognized it as an opportunity for me to begin not just the process of accepting who I was, but liking that person.
As I sat with the Cantwells watching the television, the news became more and more sobering with each passing minute. Initial reports indicated cars had plummeted from the bridge into the San Francisco Bay. Others hung over the abyss. Reports from the East Bay were just as disturbing. The 880 Interchange, a double-decker concrete freeway, had collapsed. It could not have come at a worse time, filled with afternoon commuters. Dozens were said to be trapped beneath the rubble. People had died. The Embarcadero Freeway along the San Francisco waterfront had also suffered major structural damage. People had pitched tents on the lawn in the Marina District, afraid to go back to their homes and apartments because of a series of aftershocks.
Michelle made pasta and a salad, but none of us ate much. I called home. Eva did not answer. Her flight had been scheduled to land at the Oakland airport just after 4:00 p.m., which would have put her right in the heart of all the traffic. I would likely go home and find a message on the answering machine telling me she’d decided to stay in a hotel in the East Bay to avoid the mess. Terrific. She and Mr. Sleepy could hold each other through the trauma.
At nine o’clock I made another call and again got my answering machine. I hung up and told Ernie, “I’m going to head home.”
“Did you reach her?” Ernie asked.
I shook my head. “She’s probably staying at a hotel in Oakland rather than fight the traffic.”
2
When I pulled up to my two-story house with the cedar-shake siding, I noticed the porch light was on, as well as another light in the front living room, and was certain Eva was home. I’d given this moment some thought, about what I would say. I’d decided to wait and let Eva speak, give her the chance to at least be honest with me. If she was, I’d tell her thanks, but it was time she moved out. If she wasn’t, well, then, at least I knew who she truly was, and again, I’d ask her to move out.
When I looked to the upstairs windows I did not see a light on in the bedroom. Eva’s car was not parked in the driveway. Strange. When I climbed the front steps to the covered porch, I heard a familiar bark. When I tried to open the door, Bandit pushed his bony head between the door and the jamb, whining and whimpering with excitement. “Okay, okay, Bandit. Back up, buddy. Back up.” I stepped in and looked about the room while squatting to pet Bandit and scratch his sides. I didn’t see any suitcases. Bandit’s tail whipped the air. “Mickie?” I called out. “Eva?”
No one answered. I saw a slip of paper on the tile counter beside the answering machine.
Thought you might need some company.
M
Mickie, checking up on me.
The blinking red light on the answering machine drew my finger toward the button, but I changed my direction to the pantry. “You hungry, Bandit?” His tail whipped vigorously. When Mickie traveled, I watched her boys, which was what she called her dogs. I kept a bag of dog food in the pantry. Eva did not like pets. She reacted to any piece of dog hair on her clothing as if it was radioactive. I wondered if she’d come home but left when she encountered Bandit, but there was no sign she’d been in the house.