“You two have some of the finest entrepreneurial instincts I’ve ever encountered,” she said. Perry snorted.
“What’s more, I’ve never seen you happier than you were back when I first met you, making stuff for the sheer joy of it and selling it to collectors. Do you know how many collectors would pony up for an original Gibbons/Banks today? You two could just do that forever — ”
“Lester’s medical — ”
“Lester’s medical nothing. You two get together on this, you could make so much money, we could buy Lester his own hospital.” Besides, Lester won’t last long no matter what happens. She didn’t say it, but there it was. She’d come to grips with the reality years ago, when his symptoms first appeared — when all the fatkins’ symptoms began to appear. Now she could think of it without getting that hitch in her chest that she’d gotten at first. Now she could go away for a week to work on a story without weeping every night, then drying her eyes and calling Lester to make sure he was still alive.
“I’m not saying you need to do this to the exclusion of everything else, or forever — ” there is no forever for Lester “ — but you two would have to be insane not to try it. Look at this board-game thing you’ve done — ”
“Calvinball,” Perry said.
“Calvinball. Right. You were made for this. You two make each other better. Perry, let’s be honest here. You don’t have anything better to do.”
She held her breath. It had been years since she’d spoken to Perry, years since she’d had the right to say things like that to him. Once upon a time, she wouldn’t have thought twice, but now —
“Let me sleep on it,” Perry said.
Which meant no, of course. Perry didn’t sleep on things. He decided to do things. Sometimes he decided wrong, but he’d never had trouble deciding.
That night, Lester rubbed her back, the way he always did when she came back from the road, using the hand-cream she kept on her end-table. His hands had once been so strong, mechanic’s hands, stubby-fingered pistons he could drive tirelessly into the knots in her back. Now they smoothed and petted, a rub, not a massage. Every time she came home, it was gentler, somehow more loving. But she missed her massages. Sometimes she thought she should tell him not to bother anymore, but she was afraid of what it would mean to end this ritual — and how many more rituals would end in its wake.
It was the briefest backrub yet and then he slid under the covers with her. She held him for a long time, spooning him from behind, her face in the nape of his neck, kissing his collar bone the way he liked, and he moaned softly.
“I love you, Suzanne,” he said.
“What brought that on?”
“It’s just good to have you home,” he said.
“You seem to have been taking pretty good care of yourself while I was away, getting in some Perry time.”
“I took him to Musso and Frank,” he said. “I ate like a pig.”
“And you paid the price, didn’t you?”
“Yeah. For days.”
“Serves you right. That Perry is such a bad influence on my boy.”
“I’ll miss him.”
“You think he’ll go, then?”
“You know he will.”
“Oh, honey.”
“Some wounds don’t heal,” he said. “I guess.”
“I’m sure it’s not that,” Suzanne said. “He loves you. I bet this is the best week he’s had in years.”
“So why wouldn’t he want to stay?” Lester’s voice came out in the petulant near-sob she had only ever heard when he was in extreme physical pain. It was a voice she heard more and more often lately.
“Maybe he’s just afraid of himself. He’s been on the run for a long time. You have to ask yourself, what’s he running from? It seems to me that he’s spent his whole life trying to avoid having to look himself in the eye.”
Lester sighed and she squeezed him tight. “How’d we get so screwed up?”
“Oh, baby,” she said, “we’re not screwed up. We’re just people who want to do things, big things. Any time you want to make a difference, you face the possibility that you’ll, you know, make a difference. It’s a consequence of doing things with consequences.”
“Gak,” he said. “You always get so Zen-koan when you’re on the road.”
“Gives me time to reflect. Were you reading?”
“Was I reading? Suzanne, I read your posts whenever I feel lonely. It’s kind of like having you home with me.”
“You’re sweet.”
“Did you really eat sardines on sorbet toast?”
“Don’t knock it. It’s better than it sounds. Lots better.”
“You can keep it.”
“Listen to Mr Musso and Frank — boy, you’ve got no business criticizing anyone else’s food choices.”
He heaved a happy sigh. “I love you, Suzanne Church.”
“You’re a good man, Lester Banks.”
Perry met them at the breakfast table the next morning as Suzanne was fiddling with the espresso machine, steaming soy milk for her latte. He wore a pair of Lester’s sloppy drawstring pants and a t-shirt for a motorcycle shop in Kansas City that was spotted with old motor-oil stains.
“Bom dia,” he said, and chucked Lester on the shoulder. He was carrying himself with a certain stiffness, and Suzanne thought, Here it comes; he’s going to say goodbye. Perry Gibbons, you bastard.
“Morning,” Lester said, brittle and chipper.
Perry dug around on Suzanne’s non-medicated food-shelf for a while and came up with a bagel for the toaster and a jar of peanut butter. No one said anything while he dug around for the big bread knife, found the cutting board, toasted the bagel, spread peanut butter, and took a bite. Suzanne and Lester just continued to eat, in uncomfortable silence. Tell him, Suzanne urged silently. Get it over with, damn you.
“I’m in,” Perry said, around a mouthful of bagel, looking away.
Suzanne saw that he had purple bags under his eyes, like he hadn’t slept a wink all night.
“I’m staying. If you’ll have me. Let’s make some stuff.”
He put the bagel down and swallowed. He looked back at Lester and the two old comrades locked eyes for a long moment.
Lester smiled. “All right!” He danced a shuffling step, mindful of his sore hips. “All right, buddy, fuckin’ A! Yeah!”
Suzanne tried to fade then, to back out of the room and let them do their thing, but Lester caught her arm and drew her into an embrace, tugging on her arm with a strength she’d forgotten he had.
He gave her a hard kiss. “I love you, Suzanne Church,” he said. “You’re my savior.”
Perry made a happy sound behind her.
“I love you, too, Lester,” she said, squeezing his skinny, brittle back.
Lester let go of her and she turned to face Perry. Tears pricked his eyes, and she found that she was crying too. She gave him a hug, and felt the ways that his body had changed since she’d held him back in Florida, back in some forgotten time. He was thicker, but still solid, and he smelled the same. She put her lips close to his ear and whispered, “You’re a good man, Perry Gibbons.”
Lester gave his notice that morning. Though it was 8PM in Tehran when Lester called, Sammy was at his desk.
“Why are you telling me this, Lester?”
“It says in my contract that I have to give my notice to you, specifically.”
“Why the hell did I put that there?” Sammy’s voice sounded far away — not just in Iran. It sounded like he had travelled through time, too.
“Politics, I think,” he said.
“Hard to remember. Probably wanted to be sure that someone like Wiener wouldn’t convince you to quit, switch companies, and hire you again.”
“Not much risk of that now,” Lester said. “Let’s face it, Sammy, I don’t actually do anything for the company.”
“Nope. That’s right. We’re not very good at making use of people like you.”
“Nope.”
“Well, email me your paperwork and I’ll shove it around. How much notice are you supposed to give?”