"What do you mean?"
"I know voices, if you'd been friends with Harry back in the Rec days, you'd be in your sixties, but you're not, you sound like you're no more than thirty-five."
Jesus, right on the money.
"People tell me I sound a lot younger than my age. I bet they tell you the same."
"Nice try," and all at once she did sound older. "I've had years of training to put that sunshine in my voice. Have you?"
I couldn't think of a response, so I kept silent.
"Also, no one calls to check up on someone they chummed around with when they were in grammar school. Not fifty years later, they don't."
Might as well hang up, I thought. I'll just hang up. But the phone felt glued to my ear. I'm not sure I could have dropped it if I'd seen fire racing up my living room curtains.
When she spoke again, there was a catch in her voice.
"Are you him?"
"I don't know what you-"
"There was somebody else that night. Harry saw him and so did I. Are you him?"
"What night?" Only it came out whu-nigh, because my lips had gone numb. It felt as if someone had put a mask over my face. One lined with snow.
"Harry said it was his good angel. I think you're him. So where were you?"
Now she was the one who sounded unclear, because she'd begun crying.
"Ma'am...Ellen...you're not making any sen-"
"I took him to the airport after he got his orders. He was going to Nam, and I told him to watch his ass. He said, 'Don't worry, Sis, I've got a guardian angel to watch out for me, remember?' So where were you on the sixth of February in 1968, Mr. Angel? Where were you when my brother died at Khe Sanh? Where were you then, you son of a bitch?!"
She said something else, but I don't know what it was. By then she was crying too hard. I hung up the phone. i went into the bathroom. I got into the bathtub, pulled the curtain, and put my head between my knees so I was looking at the rubber mat with yellow daisies on it. Then I screamed.
Once. Twice. Three times. And here is the worst: I didn't wish Al had never spoken to me about his Goddamned rabbit-hole. It went farther than that.
I wished him dead.
When she spoke again, there was a catch in her voice.
"Are you him?"
"I don't know what you-"
"There was somebody else that night. Harry saw him and so did I. Are you him?"
"What night?" Only it came out whu-nigh, because my lips had gone numb. It felt as if someone had put a mask over my face. One lined with snow.
"Harry said it was his good angel. I think you're him. So where were you?"
Now she was the one who sounded unclear, because she'd begun crying.
"Ma'am...Ellen...you're not making any sen-"
"I took him to the airport after he got his orders. He was going to Nam, and I told him to watch his ass. He said, 'Don't worry, Sis, I've got a guardian angel to watch out for me, remember?' So where were you on the sixth of February in 1968, Mr. Angel? Where were you when my brother died at Khe Sanh? Where were you then, you son of a bitch?!"
She said something else, but I don't know what it was. By then she was crying too hard. I hung up the phone. i went into the bathroom. I got into the bathtub, pulled the curtain, and put my head between my knees so I was looking at the rubber mat with yellow daisies on it. Then I screamed.
Once. Twice. Three times. And here is the worst: I didn't wish Al had never spoken to me about his Goddamned rabbit-hole. It went farther than that.
I wished him dead.
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