Page 65 of I Am the Messenger

"Come on, man--one cigarette. I know you smoke. It ain't gon' kill you to lend me just the one...."

I freeze for a moment, turn, and walk away.

Very bloody quickly.

At Ritchie's, I keep reliving it while the others deal and talk.

"So where'd your folks go, Ritchie?" Audrey asks.

There's a lengthy gap as he considers the question. "I have no idea."

"You're joking, aren't you?"

"They told me, but I must have forgot."

Audrey shakes her head, and Marv laughs through his cigar smoke.

I think of Henry Street.

Tonight I win for a change.

A few rounds pass me by, but somehow I manage to win the most games out of all of us.

Marv still talks contentedly about the upcoming Sledge Game. "Did you hear?" he puffs at Ritchie and me. "The Falcons have got a new guy this year. People are saying he's something like one fifty."

Ritchie: "One fifty what? Kilos?"

Like Marv and me, Ritchie's played the last few years, on the wing, but he's even less interested than me. To give you an idea, he usually shares a beer or two with the crowd during the game's flat spots.

"That's right, Ritchie," Marv affirms. This is serious business. "One fifty big ones."

"You playing, Ed?"

That question comes from Audrey. She knows I am but asks only to comfort herself with me. Ever since the front-door just-Ed incident she hasn't really known what to say to me. I look up at her from the table and half smile. She knows it means we're okay.

"Yes," I tell her. "I'll be there."

Her smile back says, That's good. Good that we're okay, that is. Audrey couldn't care less about the Annual Sledge Game. She hates soccer.

Later, when the cards are over, she comes back to my place and we drink in the kitchen.

"New bloke still going well?" I ask. I'm emptying toast crumbs into the sink. When I turn around to meet her answer, I notice some dried blood on the floor. Blood from my head among all the dog hair. Reminders are everywhere.

"Not bad," she answers.

I want to tell her how sorry I am for showing up like I did the other morning, but I choose not to. We're okay now, and there's no point going over something I can't change. I come close a few times but let it go. It's better that way.

When I put the toaster back down in its familiar place, I catch my reflection in it--even if it is a touch filthy. My eyes are uncertain to the point of being injured. For just that instant I see the pitiful nature of my life. This girl I can't have. These messages I feel I can't deliver.... But then I see the eyes become determined. I see a future version of myself going down to Henry Street again to see Father Thomas O'Reilly. I'll be in my dirty old jacket, moneyless and cigaretteless, same as last time. Only next time I plan to make it to the front door.

I have to, I think, and I speak to Audrey.

"I know where I have to go," I tell her.

She sips on the grapefruit Sub I gave her and asks it. "Well, where?"

"Three more people."

The scratched names on the giant stone appear in my mind, but I don't speak them to her. Like I've said, there's no point.