I Am the Messenger - Page 159

From the porch, he says, "Do you still need that money, Ed?" He looks at me, concerned. "I'm sorry--I forgot all about it."

"Don't worry," I tell him. "I don't think I'll be needing it after all."

I've got an old derelict cassette player under my arm with a tape inside it.

As I walk, Marv throws his voice out and ropes me back to face him.

He looks at me thoughtfully and says, "Did you ever need it?"

I walk closer.

"No." I shake my head. "No, Marv, I didn't."

"Then why"--he comes down the steps to face me properly--"then why did you say--"

"I kept that card I got in the mail, Marv." If Ritchie deserved the truth, so does Marv. I explain it to him. All of it. "Marv, I've been through diamonds, clubs, spades, and I've got one more heart to go."

"Was that where I--"

"Yes, Marv," I answer. "You were in hearts."

Quiet.

Perplexed.

Marv stands on my front lawn and has no idea what to say--but he looks happy.

When I'm nearly gone, he calls out, "Is the last one Audrey?"

I turn and look at hi

m, walking backward.

"Well, good luck!" he answers.

This time I smile and wave.

It all happens as usual, except tonight the radio I've brought sweats next to me as the moon rises, falls, and fades when morning finally approaches. I wonder for a moment why I didn't just set my alarm at home and come over at dawn, but I know I have to do this right. I had to suffer the night to do this properly.

My legs stretch out, but the night stretches further. First light frightens me.

I'm swaying toward sleep in the park when I hear a door slam and Simon's car start up. He exits the town house complex with a quiet, clumsy turn onto the street. A minute passes, but I realize that now is the time. It all feels right.

The radio. The light.

And now, my footsteps toward Audrey's front door.

I knock.

No answer.

Again, I clench my fist, but just as I'm about to hit the wood again, a crack appears in the doorway and Audrey's tired voice edges through it. "Did you forget some--" Her voice props.

"It's me," I say.

"Ed?"

"Yes."

Tags: Markus Zusak
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