“Why does it matter?” Jo-Jo asked.

“Because it happened during those lost days.”

“The Black Hole.” Jo-Jo had picked up my pet name for my memory blip.

The details had slipped behind a thick veil and were waiting for me to push back the fabric. Again, why it mattered I couldn’t articulate.

“You sound tired,” Jo-Jo said.

“I am. Long day.”

“Take a hot bath. Go to bed.”

“It’s five p.m.”

“What’s your point?” she said lightly. “It’s cold, dark, and perfect sleeping weather. You know me—never met a nap or bedtime I couldn’t resist.”

I chuckled, wishing I could close my eyes and shut my brain off. After the accident, the doctors had given me sedatives. They’d sworn they wouldn’t be addictive, but they also didn’t know me and how quickly I could latch on to something. Letting go of all substances had been damn near impossible last year.

“Thanks.”

“The reason I really called was to tell you I had fun at your birthday party. It was terrific. At least until I made my smart-ass comment about the hats.”

“It wouldn’t be a party if you . . .”

Jo-Jo chuckled. “I know. Story of my life. Insert foot in mouth. You really are a talented photographer. And it takes someone willing to get lost to make something out of nothing.”

“Thanks.”

“Find a new subject. Stay away from the river. The answers are long gone. Find solace knowing Clare is at peace.”

Countless people had told me that. On rare occasions, that old chestnut defanged the pain, but most days it didn’t. “Right.”

“What’re you going to do with the next thirty years of your life?”

“Good question.”

“Well, don’t stress about it too much. Go to bed. It’ll be brighter tomorrow.”

I said my goodbyes, and when I hung up, I drained the last of my seltzer, feeling vaguely disappointed that it didn’t have more kick. A few beers would be nice right now. The craving, jacked up by distress, was always there, the proverbial beast lurking in the shadows. I’d gotten better about chasing it away, but tonight, it reached out from the gloom, beckoning me. Just one. Just one.

I grabbed my purse, car keys with the dealer’s fresh label still dangling from the ring, and left my apartment, locking the door behind me. There was always a meeting to attend, and though I didn’t like them, there was some strength in numbers, and right now I felt too alone.

11 HIM

11

HIM

THEN

Monday, November 19, 2008

3:00 p.m.