Read Online The Slippage: A Novel by Ben Greenman - Free Book Online
Authors: Ben Greenman
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she’s gone with the wind.” He gave a dismissive wave. “She couldn’t accept my demeanor, which I understand. Many things are said when a man is in the demon’s grip. In vino vulgaritas . She’s not the first to object. In fact, there are certain countries I can’t go back to as a result of my high spirits.”
“Which ones?”
“Mexico. Egypt. Assorted island nations.” Tom had lived as an itinerant academic for more than a decade, and he kept his past whereabouts frustratingly vague. “All good options for Annika. She’ll be safe from me there.”
“Too bad,” William said. “She seemed nice.”
“And people are always how they seem.” Tom laughed. “If you’re not careful, you’ll end up a philosopher yet.” He smiled thinly, as if he could see what was coming for William and had nothing particularly good to say about it. “It’s probably better that she got gone. This way, I get free. I’m no expert at relationships. Never saw the point of them. They always say ‘a marriage of two equals,’ and it always ends up as an Anschluss. As it turns out, Thomas does not play well with others, and so Thomas does not play with others at all, not for the long run at least. He gets what he can, and then he gets back to work.” The weather had turned when they were inside, and the sky looked like a window with the curtains drawn. “It’s like Horace said: ‘ Aut insanit homo, aut versus facit .’ ‘The man is either insane or he is composing verses.’”
“Why not both?” William said. His voice was filled, suddenly, with a vehemence that surprised him.
As they neared the intersection of Rosten and Sawyer, William noticed a man coming across the park. He was walking funny, wobbling side to side with every step. Then William noticed a second man, then a woman, and then he saw the fingers of thin, dark smoke at the corner of the office building at the far end of the park. Before long, nearly two dozen people were in the park. They were dressed for the workday—the men wore suits, the women dresses—but several were without shoes or had their shirts unbuttoned. One man, tall and reedy, with a receding hairline, came near enough that William and Tom could hear him talking on his telephone. “Fire,” he said, after which he doubled over and began to cough.
William took a bottle of water from the door pocket of the car, hopped out, and rushed to the man. “Here,” he said. The man braced himself and downed the entire bottle of water. “What happened?” William said.
The man jerked a thumb backward. “Started in the electrical closet, I think.” The man worked for an insurance company, Birch Mutual, which shared a broad two-story building with attorneys, a consulting service, home health care, and tax preparers. They’d had dozens of false alarms over the years, the man explained, so many that the employees learned to ignore them. “They usually tell us to wait for an update on the condition, and then they vanish for a few minutes,” the man said. “But this time they came right back on. This time you could hear the fear a little bit.” The man had been in the east wing. “They told us not to move. The west had to evacuate out the front door, but we were told to stay where we were.” So they remained, working, or trying. “We all were looking up to the second floor. Then there was a noise over by the central stairwell, and they all came running downstairs.”
Others leaving the building had gathered around them. Some had sooty faces. All smelled like smoke. A few of them came near William’s car. “Hi there, Fred,” said one man, holding out his hand. Fred didn’t reach out to take it. William was relieved; a handshake would have seemed inappropriate. Someone came from the park house with more water bottles, and they were passed from hand to waiting hand. Tom rolled down the car window to listen.
About five minutes after the first alert, Fred said, the alarm sounded again. A
“Which ones?”
“Mexico. Egypt. Assorted island nations.” Tom had lived as an itinerant academic for more than a decade, and he kept his past whereabouts frustratingly vague. “All good options for Annika. She’ll be safe from me there.”
“Too bad,” William said. “She seemed nice.”
“And people are always how they seem.” Tom laughed. “If you’re not careful, you’ll end up a philosopher yet.” He smiled thinly, as if he could see what was coming for William and had nothing particularly good to say about it. “It’s probably better that she got gone. This way, I get free. I’m no expert at relationships. Never saw the point of them. They always say ‘a marriage of two equals,’ and it always ends up as an Anschluss. As it turns out, Thomas does not play well with others, and so Thomas does not play with others at all, not for the long run at least. He gets what he can, and then he gets back to work.” The weather had turned when they were inside, and the sky looked like a window with the curtains drawn. “It’s like Horace said: ‘ Aut insanit homo, aut versus facit .’ ‘The man is either insane or he is composing verses.’”
“Why not both?” William said. His voice was filled, suddenly, with a vehemence that surprised him.
As they neared the intersection of Rosten and Sawyer, William noticed a man coming across the park. He was walking funny, wobbling side to side with every step. Then William noticed a second man, then a woman, and then he saw the fingers of thin, dark smoke at the corner of the office building at the far end of the park. Before long, nearly two dozen people were in the park. They were dressed for the workday—the men wore suits, the women dresses—but several were without shoes or had their shirts unbuttoned. One man, tall and reedy, with a receding hairline, came near enough that William and Tom could hear him talking on his telephone. “Fire,” he said, after which he doubled over and began to cough.
William took a bottle of water from the door pocket of the car, hopped out, and rushed to the man. “Here,” he said. The man braced himself and downed the entire bottle of water. “What happened?” William said.
The man jerked a thumb backward. “Started in the electrical closet, I think.” The man worked for an insurance company, Birch Mutual, which shared a broad two-story building with attorneys, a consulting service, home health care, and tax preparers. They’d had dozens of false alarms over the years, the man explained, so many that the employees learned to ignore them. “They usually tell us to wait for an update on the condition, and then they vanish for a few minutes,” the man said. “But this time they came right back on. This time you could hear the fear a little bit.” The man had been in the east wing. “They told us not to move. The west had to evacuate out the front door, but we were told to stay where we were.” So they remained, working, or trying. “We all were looking up to the second floor. Then there was a noise over by the central stairwell, and they all came running downstairs.”
Others leaving the building had gathered around them. Some had sooty faces. All smelled like smoke. A few of them came near William’s car. “Hi there, Fred,” said one man, holding out his hand. Fred didn’t reach out to take it. William was relieved; a handshake would have seemed inappropriate. Someone came from the park house with more water bottles, and they were passed from hand to waiting hand. Tom rolled down the car window to listen.
About five minutes after the first alert, Fred said, the alarm sounded again. A
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