• Choose a category
• All
• Classic-Fiction

I look around at my messy apartment and, fearing I’ll get permanently glued to the couch, I get up and walk over to the piano. It’s close to ten now and Ramirez won’t abide my practicing for long but I might be able to get in a couple of Bach Inventions. It’s actually good for me to have to play within earshot of an irritable neighbor. He seems to complain a lot more when I make mistakes than when I get through a piece with a minimum of flubbing.

I sit down, and, failing to heed my teacher Mark Baxter’s command to play twenty minutes of scales before doing anything fun, I launch into the first Invention in C.

I get through it smoothly, which is no great feat since I’ve been working on it for seven months. I’m about to try a more difficult piece when the phone rings again. I get up and walk over to the caller ID box, again hoping to see Attila’s number there. Florida, the box announces, not bothering to tell me the caller’s name though I know it’s Ed. My heart rate accelerates. I pick up the phone.

ED BURKE/SAM RIVERMAN

21.

Radiance

I study Lucinda from across the breakfast table. She’s looking down at the Racing Form. Her hair is hanging in two lank black curtains. Her nose is twitching as if an insect has flown in and is buzzing through one of her nostrils. It occurs to me that this isn’t what I’m supposed to be thinking of a woman I’ve bedded on two consecutive nights. I ought to be seeing a glow around her. But there’s no radiance coming from this girl and I don’t think Lucinda actually even likes me much. We’re just both lonely.

Suddenly she gets up, goes over to the oven, pulls open the broiler door, and removes two pieces of maimed toast. She smiles as she deposits these on my plate. I stare down at the charred bread. She stares too and, after a moment, finds a knife and scrapes off some of the blackness. It still doesn’t look appetizing.

“Thank you, that’s lovely,” I say. “Sure you won’t have some?”

“I’m sure,” she says.

“You’re gonna ride Mike for me this morning, right?”

She looks at me. Her nose twitches again. “Sure,” she says.

As I take a bite of charred toast, I reflect that something is obviously wrong with me. I know there are men who make sport of screwing women they’re not that fond of, but I’m not one of them. I ought to be screwing the woman I do like. Ruby.

“What are you thinking about?” Lucinda asks me. Her dark eyes have gotten small.

“Ruby,” I say flat out.

“Ruby? Who is Ruby?”

“Sort of my girlfriend,” I say, immediately regretting it.

“Oh,” she says.

“She’s not officially my girlfriend. Lives up north.” I backpedal a little.

“Well that’s lovely,” Lucinda sneers.

“I’m not trying to disrespect you, Lucinda. You asked what I was thinking about and I told you. I should have told you about her sooner. I wasn’t sure how much you wanted from me. We’re both just lonely, right?”

“Thanks a fucking lot,” she says, pushing her chair back and standing up.

“Hey, Lucinda, I’m sorry,” I say, but she’s stormed into the bedroom and slammed the door shut behind her.

Moments later she emerges with her clothes on. She doesn’t look at me.

“Lucinda, I’m sorry,” I say weakly.

“Fuck you, Sam Riverman,” she says, walking out the front door.

And now I feel like total shit. Treating people badly just isn’t necessary. I hesitate for a minute, unsure of what to do. If I go after her she might think I care. Of course, I do care slightly. Just not that much.

I put my shirt on and go out the door. There’s no sign of Lucinda. I don’t know where she could have gone since she doesn’t have a car. I go back for my car keys and, a minute later, I’m driving out of the complex. Within a few moments I see her, walking briskly along the side of the road. I pull alongside her and roll down the window.

“Hey, Lucinda, get in the car.”

“Fuck you, Sam Riverman,” she says, and keeps walking.

“Lucinda, come on. It’s not that bad.”

She stops walking, puts her fists on her hips, and looks at me.

“You’re a creep,” she says.

“No, not really. We should have talked