Coe Review

my whiskey. Suddenly I feel loose and mischievous and a thought comes that
gets me to smile. Pleased with myself, I touch the back of Rebecca's hand.
"Let me drop you off and I'll make a quick run to the office. I need to
pick up my laptop and some materials. I've gotta throw a few charts together
for a meeting tomorrow. I can do it before bed."
Rebecca's mouth sours. "Now? You need to do this now?"
"I'll be home before you know it. I promise. Give me thirty minutes,
forty tops."
our car.
I pay the bill and leave a generous tip. Rebecca leads the way back to
A man with no legs sits in a wheelchair under a streetlight outside our
business office downtown. The area contains a number of restaurants and
bars, a good place for panhandling. I often give him dollar bills, sometimes
fives, and will chat with him if I have time. He's a Vietnam vet, and his
family no longer sends him money. He sometimes reads me his poems and
they echo in my head for the rest of the day.
I hand him a ten-dollar bill. "Don't spend it all in one place."
"I won't. God bless you. Your family must be missing you tonight."
"You might say that."
In the office I throw on a light switch and hurry to my desk. Documents
clutter my workspace, and a rumble of shame stirs the food and booze in my
stomach. I disconnect the laptop from its power supply and arbitrarily grab a
report I completed a week ago—Rebecca will never know the difference.
In ten minutes I'm in front of Annie's building and almost trip as I
race up her steps. I knock on her door, and then lean against it to catch my
breath. My mind whirls as I wait ten seconds ... twenty seconds. She
doesn't answer, so I knock again. I heave a sigh when her cane thumps
against the floor. She says hello, and her voice is thick and unfriendly.
I grab the handle. "It's me, Dennis. Open up."
"Why are you here so late?"
"It's only eight o'clock. I just want a quick visit."
"It's not a good time. I took my pain meds an hour ago and I need to
sleep."
"You can go back to bed, and I'll lay next to you. Just give me five
minutes."
"Not tonight. I'm too tired. Call me tomorrow."
"Annie, but wait..."
She pushes away from the door, and it creaks against the jamb. I let go of
the handle and walk away, hating the slap of rejection. I would've accepted
so little, one of her hugs, even a handshake, any contact at all. I leave the
Thomas Boulan 63