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“Yes?”
“Are you hiding a broom?”
There was a long moment of silence. Much longer than the one when I had answered the phone
with her name, and much longer than I expected. At last she said, “I don’t know what you mean.”
“You don’t sound like yourself, that’s all.”
“I told you, I’m very confused. And I’m sad. Because you’re still not ready to tell me the truth, are
you?”
“If I could, I would.”
“You know something interesting? You have good friends in Jodie—not just me—and none of
them know where you live.”
“Sadie—”
“You say it’s Dallas, but you’re on the Elmhurst exchange, and Elmhurst is Fort Worth.”
I’d never thought of that. What else hadn’t I thought of?
“Sadie, all I can tell you is that what I’m doing is very impor—”
“Oh, I’m sure it is. And what Senator Kuchel’s doing is very important, too. Roger was at pains to
tell me that, and to tell me that if I . . . I joined him in Washington, I would be more or less sitting
at the feet of greatnesss . . . or in the doorway to history . . . or something like that. Power excites
him. It was one of the few things it was hard to like about him. What I thought—what I still think—
is, who am I to sit at the feet of greatness? I’m just a divorced librarian.”
“Who am I to stand in the doorway to history?” I said.
“What? What did you say, George?”
“Nothing, hon.”
“Maybe you better not call me that.”
“Sorry.” (I’m not.) “What exactly are we talking about?”
“You and me and whether or not that still makes an us. It would help if you could tell me why
you’re in Texas. Because I know you didn’t come to write a book or teach school.”
“Telling you could be dangerous.”
“We’re all in danger,” she said. “Johnny’s right about that. Will I tell you something Roger told
me?”
“All right.” (Where did he tell you, Sadie? And were the two of you vertical or horizontal when the
conversation took place?)
“He’d had a drink or two, and he got gossipy. We were in his hotel room, but don’t worry—I kept
my feet on the floor and all my clothes on.”
“I wasn’t worrying.”
“If you weren’t, I’m disappointed in you.”
“All right, I was worried. What did he say?”
“He said there’s a rumor that there’s going to be some sort of major deal in the Caribbean this fall
or winter. A flashpoint, he called it. I’m assuming he meant Cuba. He said, ‘That idiot JFK is going
to put us all in the soup just to show he’s got balls.’”
I remembered all the end-of-the-world crap her former husband had poured into her ears. Anyone
who reads the paper can see it coming, he’d told her. We’ll die with sores all over our bodies, and coughing up
our lungs. Stuff like that leaves an impression, especially when spoken in tones of dry scientific
certainty. Leaves an impression? A scar, more like it.
“Sadie, that’s crap.”
“Oh?” She sounded nettled. “I suppose you have the inside scoop and Senator Kuchel doesn’t?”
“Let’s say I do.”
“Let’s not. I’ll wait for you to come clean a little longer, but not much. Maybe just because you’re a