Read Online Allan Stein by Matthew Stadler - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Matthew Stadler
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were in jail."
"No."
"I told him you were taking some school group on a trip. I didn't say where. I doubt he'll press me for details."
"Maybe I'll join you. I mean, after Paris."
"Mmm, you should. I don't see any reason not to stay on at Jimmy's."
"I could bring you the drawings."
"Yes, you could; that's very good. I'll tell them I'm flying back via San Francisco. A week in Paris and then a week in San Francisco. I've got to get back by the twenty-ninth."
"The museum won't collapse in your absence?"
"Not so anyone would notice."
The prospect of vacation at Jimmy's was already giving Herbert a blush of health and vigor I hadn't seen on him in several months. He still looked gaunt and drunk, but his mouth was more relaxed and his eyes sparkled. The arrangement promised to be as good for him as it was for me, and this equanimity was pleasing. It assuaged the guilt I felt for the one truly wrong and completely unconscionable thing I did to my dearest friend before going to Paris. I don't know why it was important to me. I can't say how the compulsion became so irresistible and the act so plausible, but I took his passport. I stole it from his apartment while he was at work, rifling through the desk to find it, together with his birth certificate— and then I mutilated the passport, so it would have to be replaced. I wanted a new one with my picture and his name, to make the masquerade of my Paris trip complete.
Our last drink was at Shackles. An air of melancholy settled with the balding assistant manager's news that Tristan was gone for two weeks. "The kids are all off for spring break," he told us. "How glum," Herbert said, and indeed the whole place was glum. The assistant didn't bother to wear the croupier's disguise. He wiped our clean table with a filthy cloth and stood waiting for an order. We split a bottle of heavy Bordeaux and then a Napa Valley red zinfandel that was like drinking a brick wall. A little bon voyage.
"Is that a new watch? You never wore a watch before." I'd bought a watch and Herbert was right, I had never had one before.
"I know. I thought I might need one." I fiddled with the mechanism and ran my fingers along the soft leather band. I had been doing that all evening.
"What time is your flight?"
"Afternoon. One o'clock, I think." The bar was crowded but it seemed empty, the drinkers subdued by the fact it was Monday evening, stunned by the recent weekend's end and the terrible recurring surprise of work again.
"It takes forever."
"Eleven hours. I change planes in Copenhagen."
"Oh, SAS?"
"Mmm." I'd bought the ticket with Herbert's credit card, as per instructions; I also had it issued in his name, with his passport, but he didn't know that.
"I love SAS. All those little sandwiches, and you know they'll give you aquavit, chilled to absolute zero."
"Delicious." We drank wine without speaking for some time.
"Thank God I'm leaving for California. I couldn't stand another evening like this, here without Tristan."
"Thank you very much. I'll miss you too."
"I mean without Tristan or you, obviously. That kind of thing goes without saying."
"Tristan's probably waiting for you at Jimmy's."
"Don't tease me. I would die to spend a few weeks with him at Jimmy's."
"He looks Californian, maybe he's back home for break, just over the ridge at the next ranch. Jimmy probably hires him every spring to, you know, mow the range. The neighbor boy, out mowing the range, all shirtless and sweaty." I smiled weakly, happy to give my friend at least this small token.
"Maybe he does live down there. I wonder if he'd visit, I mean if I invited him?"
"He'd have to stay overnight. Can't drive drunk."
"The bursar would certainly have his family's address."
"A scented note in the letter box."
"I should probably just phone. Though maybe a note is best, so he doesn't feel pressured in any way."
"A simple note: Jimmy's phone number and a condom."
"You're so crude."
"What's so crude about a condom? It's a
"No."
"I told him you were taking some school group on a trip. I didn't say where. I doubt he'll press me for details."
"Maybe I'll join you. I mean, after Paris."
"Mmm, you should. I don't see any reason not to stay on at Jimmy's."
"I could bring you the drawings."
"Yes, you could; that's very good. I'll tell them I'm flying back via San Francisco. A week in Paris and then a week in San Francisco. I've got to get back by the twenty-ninth."
"The museum won't collapse in your absence?"
"Not so anyone would notice."
The prospect of vacation at Jimmy's was already giving Herbert a blush of health and vigor I hadn't seen on him in several months. He still looked gaunt and drunk, but his mouth was more relaxed and his eyes sparkled. The arrangement promised to be as good for him as it was for me, and this equanimity was pleasing. It assuaged the guilt I felt for the one truly wrong and completely unconscionable thing I did to my dearest friend before going to Paris. I don't know why it was important to me. I can't say how the compulsion became so irresistible and the act so plausible, but I took his passport. I stole it from his apartment while he was at work, rifling through the desk to find it, together with his birth certificate— and then I mutilated the passport, so it would have to be replaced. I wanted a new one with my picture and his name, to make the masquerade of my Paris trip complete.
Our last drink was at Shackles. An air of melancholy settled with the balding assistant manager's news that Tristan was gone for two weeks. "The kids are all off for spring break," he told us. "How glum," Herbert said, and indeed the whole place was glum. The assistant didn't bother to wear the croupier's disguise. He wiped our clean table with a filthy cloth and stood waiting for an order. We split a bottle of heavy Bordeaux and then a Napa Valley red zinfandel that was like drinking a brick wall. A little bon voyage.
"Is that a new watch? You never wore a watch before." I'd bought a watch and Herbert was right, I had never had one before.
"I know. I thought I might need one." I fiddled with the mechanism and ran my fingers along the soft leather band. I had been doing that all evening.
"What time is your flight?"
"Afternoon. One o'clock, I think." The bar was crowded but it seemed empty, the drinkers subdued by the fact it was Monday evening, stunned by the recent weekend's end and the terrible recurring surprise of work again.
"It takes forever."
"Eleven hours. I change planes in Copenhagen."
"Oh, SAS?"
"Mmm." I'd bought the ticket with Herbert's credit card, as per instructions; I also had it issued in his name, with his passport, but he didn't know that.
"I love SAS. All those little sandwiches, and you know they'll give you aquavit, chilled to absolute zero."
"Delicious." We drank wine without speaking for some time.
"Thank God I'm leaving for California. I couldn't stand another evening like this, here without Tristan."
"Thank you very much. I'll miss you too."
"I mean without Tristan or you, obviously. That kind of thing goes without saying."
"Tristan's probably waiting for you at Jimmy's."
"Don't tease me. I would die to spend a few weeks with him at Jimmy's."
"He looks Californian, maybe he's back home for break, just over the ridge at the next ranch. Jimmy probably hires him every spring to, you know, mow the range. The neighbor boy, out mowing the range, all shirtless and sweaty." I smiled weakly, happy to give my friend at least this small token.
"Maybe he does live down there. I wonder if he'd visit, I mean if I invited him?"
"He'd have to stay overnight. Can't drive drunk."
"The bursar would certainly have his family's address."
"A scented note in the letter box."
"I should probably just phone. Though maybe a note is best, so he doesn't feel pressured in any way."
"A simple note: Jimmy's phone number and a condom."
"You're so crude."
"What's so crude about a condom? It's a
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