I Am the Messenger

I was quite relieved, to tell you the truth, because nothing really happened at all. The only person there was an old woman who has no curtains on her windows. She was in there on her own, making her dinner and sitting there eating, and drinking tea. I think she ate a salad and some soup.

And loneliness.

She ate that, too.

I liked her.

I stayed in my cab the whole time, sitting there watching her. It was hot, and I drank some old water. Often, I hoped the woman was all right. She looked gentle and kind, and I recall the way her old-fashioned kettle whistled till she went over and soothed it. I'm quite sure she spoke to it, like she would to a child. Like a baby crying.

It kind of depressed me to think a human could be so lonely that she would comfort herself with the company of appliances that whistle, and sit alone to eat.

Not that I'm much better, mind you.

Let's face it--I eat my meals with a seventeen-year-old dog. We drink coffee together. You'd think we were husband and wife, the way we carry on. But still...

The old lady did something to my heart.

When her hands reached out and poured the tea, it was as if she also poured something into me while I sat there sweating in my cab. It was like she held a string and pulled on it just slightly to open me up. She got in, put a piece of herself inside me, and left again.

In there, somewhere, I still feel it.

I sit here playing cards, and the image of her is splayed across the table. Only I can see it. I see her hands shaking as she brought the spoon up to her mouth. I want to see her laugh or express some kind of happiness or contentment to let me know she's okay. I soon realize, though, that I have to find out for sure.

It's my go.

"Your go, Ed."

It's my go and I'm not going.

I'm down to two cards and I have to knock.

The Three of Clubs and the Nine of Spades.

The only trouble is, I want more cards tonight. I'm not interested in winning. I think I know what I have to do for the old woman, and I make a bet with myself.

If I pick up the Ace of Diamonds, I'm right.

If I don't, I'm wrong.

I forget to knock and everyone laughs at me as I go to pick up.

First card: Queen of Clubs.

Second card: Four of Hearts.

Third card: yes.

Everyone wonders why I could possibly be smiling, except Audrey. Audrey winks at me. She knows without asking that I did it on purpose. The Ace of Diamonds is in my hand.

This is much better than Edgar Street.

I'm feeling good.

It's Tuesday and I'm putting on my white jeans and my nice sandy-colored boots. I pull out a decent shirt. I've been to the Cheesecake Shop, having been ably assisted by a girl called Misha.

("Don't I know you?" she asked.

"Maybe. I can't quite--"