It was 4:55 when I knocked on Henry’s back door. I was feeling more curious about Dietz than uneasy, which shows you what a moron I am. Dietz wasn’t due for an hour and I was grateful for a brief interlude alone with Henry so I could fill him in on my trip to Bakersfield.
Henry let me in. He’d already opened a bottle of Chardonnay, resting now in a cooler on the kitchen counter. I grant you it was a teeny tiny bit early for a glass of wine, but how could I refuse the half a glass when he handed it to me? He poured himself a tot of Black Jack over ice and we sat down at the kitchen table.
One of Henry’s many endearing qualities is his interest in matters that are of interest to me. He has remarkable recall of my past attitudes and behaviors, and he doesn’t hesitate to bring inconsistencies to my attention. He’s also free with his opinions even if they don’t coincide with mine, which is an irritating trait but one that I’ve come to appreciate.
He had two freshly baked loaves of bread sitting on a towel on his kitchen counter, and his oven was exuding enough mild heat and roasting aromas to make the room feel cozy. I knew he’d serve a salad and something simple for dessert. Of particular interest on this occasion was the presence of the cat, who had apparently taken possession of Henry and everything related to him. Ed had been in residence only briefly when I’d taken off for Bakersfield. I could still hardly believe I’d been there so short a time when it felt like I’d been gone for so long.
I said, “Tell me about Felix. How’s he doing?”
Henry waggled his outstretched hand in a gesture that indicated not so good. “After supper, we can go over to St. Terry’s, if you like. He’s unconscious, so you can’t actually visit but you could look in on him. The nurses are kind, but I don’t like being underfoot. As one nurse put it, ICU doesn’t lend itself to looky-loos.”
“No improvement at all?”
“They’ve been pumping him with antibiotics, which I gather hasn’t done much good. In a situation like this, things tend to go from bad to worse. I don’t mean to sound so pessimistic, but there’s no point in mincing words.”
“How’s Pearl holding up?”
“She’s currently off on a bender from what I hear. Your friend Dandy as well.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“Oh, yes. I was at the hospital last night and Pearl was conspicuously absent. She’d been at his bedside, as faithful as a hound, whenever she was allowed. Suddenly, no sign of her, so I stopped by the shelter as soon as I left the hospital. I couldn’t get a word out of Ken, the guy at the desk, but one of the residents heard me ask about her and he took me aside, which is when others chimed in.”
“Are they holed up someplace?”
“Someone suggested a sports bar in the area. I don’t know the name.”
“Dandy mentioned the place. They play darts there on weekends if they’re sober enough.”
“I doubt they’re playing darts. I’d have looked for them myself, but I don’t have the patience.”
Throughout this exchange, Ed was sitting in Henry’s rocking chair, following the conversation solemnly with his oval eyes, the one blue, the other green. He was short-haired and white, with a patch of black over the right side of his face and touches of black and caramel on the left. His ears stood straight up, triangles lined with pink and edged in black. His stub of a tail looked like a black-and-tan powder puff. Henry regarded him with a doting expression, which the cat seemed to think was entirely his due.
I nodded at the cat. “How’s he been? Looks like he’s settled in and made himself at home.”
“He’s a very good boy. He’s caught everything from mice to moles. Two lizards yesterday and one today.”
“I hope no birds or bunnies.”
“Of course not. We had a chat about that and I explained his limitations. He comes when he’s called and doesn’t play in the street.”
“I thought Japanese bobtails were supposed to be talkative. He hasn’t uttered a peep.”
“He only speaks up when he has something to say.”
“Is it okay if we discuss him like this when he’s sitting right there?”
“He likes being the center of attention. He’s even taught me a trick. Watch this.” Henry picked up a wad of yarn the size of a golf ball. Ed was instantly interested, and when Henry tossed it across the kitchen, Ed streaked after it, brought it back, and dropped it at Henry’s feet. Both Henry and Ed seemed extremely pleased with themselves. Ed watched Henry for a bit to see if they’d play again.
I said, “This is weird. Like you just had a baby and all we’re going to do from here on out is sit and stare at the little tyke and admire everything he does.”
“Don’t be churlish,” he said. “Tell me about your trip.”
This I did while I set the table and Henry put together a rustic apple tart, rolling out a round of pie dough that he covered with pared apple slices, butter, sugar, and cinnamon. He seemed to recognize that I was still trying to settle on an attitude about my newly discovered cousins, so we didn’t pursue the subject beyond the basic information. Meanwhile, Ed curled up in the rocker and closed his eyes, though his ears continued to twitch like rotating antennae.
“So what’s with Dietz? I can’t believe he called after all this time.”
“He put in a fair amount of effort looking for you. He said he tried you at your office and tried you at home. He left messages both places, but when he didn’t hear back he called me, asking if I knew where you were. I said Bakersfield, but you’d be back this afternoon. He said he was on his way and then he hung up.”
“No explanation?”
“He doesn’t strike me as a man who explains himself.”
“Good point.”
Henry opened the refrigerator door and took a bag of fresh salad mix from the crisper drawer. “I wonder if you’d give these a rinse. The package says ‘ready to eat’ but that’s a relative term. Lettuce spinner’s in there.”
He indicated the corner cabinet that was outfitted with a lazy Susan so that cooking items could be stored in otherwise dead space. I opened the cabinet and removed the spinner, took out the perforated inner bowl, dumped the loose lettuces in, and ran water over the greens. I popped the bowl back into the spinner and pulled the cord, which made the inner bowl rotate at high speed, excess water flung off by the centrifugal force. The rapidly retracting cord snapped back and caught me in the hand. Wow, shit, hurt, ow.
I was happy for the distraction. Henry had mentioned an estimated 6:00 arrival time for Dietz, whom I knew to be punctual. I stole a quick glance at my watch. It was only 5:20, so I figured I was still in the safety zone. I couldn’t imagine why a job referral would warrant a trip to Santa Teresa. Maybe he meant to refer me for a job. I knew I hadn’t sent any business his way. When the knock came at Henry’s aluminum screen door, the sound barely registered, so I was startled when Henry opened the door and I heard Dietz’s voice.
In the first glimpse I had of him, I knew something major had gone down in his life. As usual his hair was shorn close, but the medium gray had now turned almost entirely white. Something in the change suggested he’d been hit with an emotional blast, like a flash fire that leaves singed hair where your eyebrows had once been. I blinked and saw him restored to himself, looking as he always had. The white was the natural progression of a graying process already under way. His nose was long and sharp, humped at the bridge where a fan of lines ran upward intersecting the horizontal lines that traced his forehead. It was the gray eyes and the deep tan that made his face arresting, along with the occasional lopsided smile.