Malone was grateful for the physical nature of the work. It kept the silence at bay. He fell into his bed late and woke early, with little chance to stew or compose lists of all the reasons he was a fool.
He’d achieved a new level of grim.
Molly had worried about him taking an assignment so close to home, but he’d told her what Irey told him. The people who had known him as Michael Lepito didn’t know him well, and those people weren’t going to be in the mill.
He’d only called Dani once. It was better that way. But he found himself adding a line here and there to a letter, bits and pieces of nothing. He couldn’t talk about his work.
One Sunday in August after Mass, he found himself standing beneath a theater marquee, hands in his pockets, staring at the ticket window. A new Errol Flynn movie in Technicolor was being touted. Robin Hood. Just what America needed in the midst of a depression that hadn’t let up for almost a decade. Robin Hood, a man who takes from the haves to give to the have-nots. The concept had always appealed, especially among the poor, and since everyone nowadays was poor, it would appeal to most. He liked the pictures for the reason he guessed most people did. They were a beautiful escape from yourself for a couple of hours.
He bought a ticket, but he didn’t manage to escape. He sat for most of the picture in a haze of longing, his hands clasped in his lap, remembering eggs and jelly toast and Dani’s joy at the outing, replaying their discussion about systems and programs, about dignity and division. Dani would love Robin Hood.
He left before it was over and walked aimlessly, not wanting to be still, and ended up back at Molly’s, the telephone in his hand, desperate to hear her voice. He didn’t breathe as the operator connected him, and then felt faint when Dani’s hello echoed over the line.
“Dani. It’s Malone. Are you well?” he barked.
“Yes.”
“And Lenka and Zuzana?”
“They are fine too. Lenka tries to read your letters, and Zuzana pretends to have forgotten your name, but they are well.”
He smiled at that, though when he caught his reflection in the mirror, he realized he wasn’t smiling at all. His mouth held the same straight line, and his eyes were not creased in mirth.
“How are you, Michael?” Her voice was gentle, and he marveled that she could be so kind. He’d expected her to be stilted and a little cold after months without a call. She wasn’t, and it made him ache all the more.
“Are you sleeping? And eating? Are you smiling sometimes?” she asked.
“Not as often as I did in Cleveland.” He’d slept so well in her old room. “But I’m busy. I have to sleep quickly or I won’t sleep at all.”
They talked for a minute more, saying nothing, and then he made himself say goodbye. When he hung up the handset and walked into the kitchen, not certain when he’d last eaten, his sister was sitting at the table.
“Was that Daniela?” she asked.
He scowled at her. “Why is it that every woman in my life is a snoop?”
“Is Daniela a woman in your life?”
He sat down at the table and laid his head on his arms. He was too tired to match wits with Molly. She had always been able to read him like a book. She hadn’t even needed to touch his goddamn clothes.
“How did you know about Dani?” he muttered.
“I called Eliot.”
“You called Eliot,” he said flatly. “Why does everyone call Eliot?”
“Because he’s the only friend you have,” she snapped. “And he’s the reason you were in Cleveland in the first place. He shows up here, you run there, and now you’re back, looking like the Mad Butcher himself hacked you up, and you tried to sew yourself together. You run yourself ragged, Michael Francis. Ragged. And for what? For who?”
“I will be done soon, Molly. Then I will be out of your hair.”
“I don’t want you out of my hair! I want to know why you aren’t in Cleveland when that’s clearly where you want to be.”
“Nobody wants to be in Cleveland.”
“Eliot says you are in love with a woman named Daniela. You were a boarder in her house for all those months, apparently?”
He stared at her glumly, wondering why in tarnation Eliot, who was a master negotiator, couldn’t hold his tongue with Molly.
“Oh, my dear brother. Have you not learned anything from your suffering?” She tsked.
“What suffering?”
“You have carried your share of burdens, to be sure,” she said, and he could see she was warming up for a good lecture.