Page 13 of I Am the Messenger

"Okay, okay...."

Why am I still so calm?

Is it the card?

I don't know.

But then, yes, I do know. It's because I'm always like this. Too pathetically calm for my own good. I should just tell the old cow to shut up, but I never have and never will. After all, she can't have a relationship like this with any of her other kids. Just me. She kisses their feet every time they come to visit (which isn't that much), and they just leave again. With me, at least she's got consistency.

I say, "All right, Ma, I was only checking to make sure it wasn't you. That's all. It just seemed like kind of a weird thing to get in the--"

"Ed?" she interrupts me, complete boredom attached to her voice.

"What?"

"Piss off, will you?"

"All right, I'll see you later."

"Yeah, yeah."

We hang up.

That bloody coffee table.

I knew I was forgetting something when I walked home from the Vacant Taxis lot. Tomorrow old Mrs. Faulkner will show up at Ma's place wanting to talk about my heroics in the bank a few days ago. All she'll hear is that I forgot to pick up the coffee table. I'm still not sure how I'm going to fit it in my cab, anyway.

I force myself to stop thinking about it. It's irrelevant. What I need to focus on is why this card's turned up and where it's come from.

It's someone I know.

That's certain.

It's someone who knows I play cards all the time. Which should make it either Marv, Audrey, or Ritchie.

Marv's out. For sure. It could never be him. He could never be that imaginative.

Then Ritchie. Highly unlikely. He just doesn't seem the type to do this.

Audrey.

I tell myself that it's most likely Audrey, but I don't know.

My gut feeling says it's none of them.

Sometimes we play cards on the front porch of my house or on the porch at someone else's place. Hundreds of people might have walked past and seen us. Once in a while, when there's an argument, people laugh and call out to us about who's cheating, who's winning, and who's whingeing.

So it could be anyone.

I don't sleep tonight.

Only think.

In the morning I get up earlier than normal and walk around town with the Doorman and a street directory, finding each house. The one on Edgar Street is a real wreck of a joint, right at the bottom of the street. The one on Harrison is kind of old, but it's neat. It has a rose bed in the front yard, though the grass is yellow and stale. The Macedoni place is up in the hilly part of town. The richer part. It's a two-story house with a steep driveway.

I leave for work and think about it.

That evening, after delivering Ma's coffee table, I go to Ritchie's place and we play cards. I tell them. All at once.