Still, he thought of her, of Amy. The name alone was a curse.

He had scarce food in his apartment: a carton of milk, a loaf of bread, two overripe bananas. He made toast and spread jam and butter on it and wolfed down the milk while he dialed his mother. She lived in Santa Barbara, ninety miles north of his Santa Monica apartment. His mother had always hated that he never chewed his food. He supposed he had a streak of impatience in him, along with other things.

Although early, his mother answered on the second ring. She was unhappy that he wouldn’t be arriving for his birthday party until seven that night. The insignificance of that particular concern troubled him deeply. His mother would never see him again.

“Why do you have to finish your scuba lessons today?” she asked after they had talked a minute.

“I’ve wanted the certificate for a while. To get it on my birthday makes me feel like things are coming together for the next decade.”

“You already have everything going for you, Matt. Now that Cindy’s in your life. Should I expect her early this evening?”

“I’m not sure. I’m going to call her in a few minutes.”

“She didn’t spend the night?”

His mother was being coy. She liked Cindy, much more than she had liked Amy. None of his friends or family had cared for his ex-girlfriend. They saw what she had done to him; they thought they saw.

He liked Cindy Firestone as well. A nice girl, but made of papier-mâché when touched by his wretched hands. He could not really care for her because she was not Amy. It was so unfair to her, but he continued to date her even though he saw she was falling for him. She was his insurance; she provided extra cover for his plan. He had a girlfriend, the police would say to themselves, he had a life for godsakes. His death would be seen as an accident, nothing more.

“No. She didn’t spend the night,” he replied. He didn’t know what to add. At this point, the less he said, the better.

“How are you two getting along?”

“Great.” He had to take a breath to lie. “I care about her a lot.”

“She’s excited about your party. She struggled over what to get you. You’re going to be surprised.”

“I like surprises.” He added suddenly, “I told you about that bathroom I have to finish in Orange County? I better get going.”

“You shouldn’t be working Saturdays. On your birthday, of all days. You have to have more fun. You won’t be young forever.”