Page 111 of I Am the Messenger

After sticking the note to the fridge, I go to bed, and Audrey comes with me. She sleeps with her leg across me, and I love the feel of her breath on my throat.

After perhaps ten minutes, she says, "Tell me, Ed. Tell me about where you've been."

I've told her once before about the Ace of Diamonds messages, but not in any detail. I'm so tired now, but I do tell her.

About Milla. Beautiful Milla. As I speak, I see her pleading face as she begged me that she did right by her Jimmy.

About Sophie. The barefoot girl with--

Audrey's asleep.

She's asleep, but I go on speaking. I tell her about Edgar Street and all the others. The stones. The beatings. Father O'Reilly. Angie Carusso. The Rose boys. The Tatupu family.

Just for now, I find I'm happy, and I want to stay awake, but soon the night falls down, beating me hard into sleep.

The yawn of a girl can be so beautiful it makes you cringe.

Especially when she's standing in your kitchen in her underpants and a shirt, yawning.

Audrey's doing this right now as I do the dishes. I rinse a plate and there she is, rubbing her eyes, yawning, then smiling.

"Sleep okay?" I ask.

She nods and says, "You're comfortable, Ed."

I realize I could take that comment badly, but it's a compliment.

"Have a seat," I say, and without thinking, I look at her shirt buttons and her hips. I follow her legs down to her knees, shins, and ankles. All in a brief second. Audrey's feet look soft and delicate. Almost like they could melt into the kitchen floor.

I make her some cereal and she crunches it. I didn't have to ask if she wanted some. Some things I know.

This is confirmed later, once Audrey's had a shower and dressed fully.

At the front door, she says, "Thanks, Ed." She pauses before speaking again. "You know, out of everyone, you know me the best, and you treat me the best. I feel most comfortable with you." She even leans close and kisses me on the cheek. "Thanks for putting up with me."

As she walks away, I still feel her lips on my skin. The taste of them.

I watch her all the way up the street, till she turns the corner. Just before she does, she knows I'm standing there, and she turns one last moment and waves. In answer, I hold up my hand, and she's gone.

Slowly.

At times painfully.

Audrey is killing me.

And do me a favor, will you? Cut down on the chips, for Christ's sake.

I hear the words of my friend from last night again.

All day they come back at me, along with the other statement he made.

You might not be the only one getting aces in the mail. Did you ever think of that?

Of course, there was a question mark at the end of his words, but I know it was a statement. It makes me think about all the people I've run into. What if they're all messengers, like me, and they're all threatened and desperate just to get through what they have to do to survive? I wonder if they, too, have received playing cards and firearms in their letter boxes or if they've had their own specific tools provided. It would all be personal, I think. I got cards because that's what I do. Maybe Daryl and Keith were given the balaclavas, and my mate from last night was given his black outfit and his cantankerous demeanor.

By quarter to eight I'll be back at Melusso's, minus the Doorman. This time I'm going in. I have to explain it to him before I go.

He looks at me.