Page 95 of I Am the Messenger

recognizes me.

No one speaks to me.

At first, I can't even find Marv, but he locates me later on the front porch.

"You made it. How you feeling?"

I look at my friend and say, "Better than ever." Behind us, we can hear the drunk people yelling and yahooing, and there are people in the front bedroom doing what people do there.

We sit awhile, and Marv describes the later events of the game to me. He wonders where I disappeared to, but I only tell him that I felt sick and couldn't go on. We talk at length about the hit I put on Mimi.

"It was glorious," Marv confides.

"Why, thank you." I try to push the edges of guilt back to my stomach. I still feel for him, or her, or whatever.

After another ten minutes or so, I detect that Marv might want to head back inside.

In my pocket, I have the new card.

Ace of Spades.

It makes me look deeper into the street, trying to find the future events in store. I'm happy.

"What?" Marv asks. "What are you grinning at, bore?" Bore, I think, and we both laugh and connect for a moment. "Come on," Marv goes on. "What is it, Ed?"

"Time for digging," I say, and walk off the porch. "I have to go, Marv. Sorry. I'll see you later."

I feel bad because all I ever seem to do is walk away from Marv these days. Tonight, he allows me some room. I think he finally understands that what's important to him doesn't have to be to me.

"Bye, Ed," he says, and I can tell by his voice. He's happy enough.

The night's dark but lovely, and I walk home. At one point I stop under a blinking streetlight and examine the Ace of Spades again. I'd already looked at it several times, at home and on Merv's front porch. I'm most confused about the choice of suit because I'd expected hearts. Hearts would have followed a red-black pattern, and I thought spades, being the most dangerous-looking suit, would be last.

The card has three names on it:

Graham Greene

Morris West

Sylvia Plath

The names are familiar, although I'm not too sure why. They're nobody I know, but I've heard of them. Definitely. When I arrive home I look them up in the local phone book and there's a Greene and a few Wests but none with a G or an M before it. Still, there might be other people at those addresses with those names. I make up my mind that I have to travel the town tomorrow.

I relax in the lounge room with the Doorman. I've made chips in the oven, and we share them. I can feel my body developing some extra soreness from the Sledge Game, and by midnight I can barely move. The Doorman's at my feet and I sit there, waiting for sleep.

My head rolls back.

The Ace of Spades slips from my hand to a crack in the couch.

I dream.

It's a long night, where I'm trapped inside a dreamworld and can't decipher whether I'm awake or asleep. When I wake up near morning, I'm still in the Sledge Game, and I'm chasing the woman who brought the card and arguing with the kid. Bargaining.

Later, I dream that I'm in school again, but no one else is there. It's only me, and the air in the classroom is dusty yellow. I'm sitting there with books strewn on the desk and words on the board. The words are in running writing, and I can't decipher them.

A woman walks in.

A teacher with long skinny legs, black skirt, white blouse, and purple cardigan. She's nearly fifty but sexy in some way. She ignores me for the most part, until a bell rings, loudly, as if it's right outside the room. That's the first time she even acknowledges my existence.