Zero History

and splashed it into the sink. She came back and poured herself more coffee. “Feel like
you’re on hold?”
“Definitely.”
“No good,” said Heidi. “Call him. See what’s up. Work through it.”
“No.”
“Got a number?”
“For emergencies. Only.”
“What kind?”
“Only if having known them ever got me into trouble.”
“Use it anyway.”
“No.”
“Pathetic,” said Heidi. “What the fuck is that?” She was staring into the bathroom.
“Your shower.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Wait’ll you see mine. What’s in those two boxes?” Pointing, where she’d put them
down after taking them from Robert the night before. Hoping to change the topic. “A pair
of concrete blocks?”
“Ashes,” Heidi said, “cremains.”
“Whose?”
“Jimmy’s.” The Curfew’s bass player. “There was nobody to claim them. He always
said he wanted to be buried in Cornwall, remember?”
“No,” said Hollis. “Why Cornwall?”
“Fuck if I know. Maybe he’d decided it was the opposite of Kansas.”
“That’s a lot of ashes.”
“My mom’s too.”
“Your mother’s?”
“I never got around to doing anything with them. They were in the basement, with my
tour stuff. I couldn’t leave ’em there with fuckstick, could I? I’ll take ’em both to
Cornwall. Jimmy never had a mother anyway.”
“Okay,” said Hollis, unable to think of anything else to say.
“Where the fuck is Cornwall?”
“I can show you. On a map.”
“I need a fucking shower,” said Heidi.