No Time for Goodbye - Linwood Barclay [54]
“Never mind,” I said.
Before I left for school, Cynthia said, “I’d like to go out and see Tess. I mean, I know we were there last weekend, and we don’t usually see her every week, but considering what she’s been through lately, I was thinking that—”
“Say no more,” I said. “I think that’s a great idea. Why don’t we go over tomorrow night? Maybe take her out for ice cream or something?”
“I’m going to call her,” Cynthia said.
At school, I found Rolly rinsing out a mug in the school staff room so he could pour himself some incredibly horrible coffee. “How’re things?” I asked, coming up behind him.
He jumped. “Jesus,” he said.
“Sorry,” I said. “I work here.” I got myself a mug, filled it, added a few extra sugars to mask the taste.
“How’s it going?” I asked.
Rolly shrugged. He seemed distracted. “Same old. You?”
I let out a sigh. “Someone was standing in the dark staring at our house last night, and when I tried to find out who it was, he ran away.” I took a sip of the coffee I had poured. It tasted bad, but at least it was cold. “Who’s responsible for this? Is the coffee thing contracted out to a sewage disposal company?”
“Someone was watching your house?” Rolly said. “What do you think he was doing there?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know, but they’re putting deadbolts on the doors this morning and just in time, it seems.”
“That’s pretty creepy,” Rolly said. “Maybe some guy, he’s trolling your street, looking for people who’ve left their garage doors open or something. Just wants to steal some stuff.”
“Maybe,” I said. “Either way, new locks aren’t a bad idea.”
“True,” Rolly said, nodded. He paused, then said, “I’m thinking of taking early retirement.”
So we were done talking about me. “I thought you had to stay at least until the end of the school year.”
“Yeah, well, what if I dropped dead? They’d have to find someone fast then, wouldn’t they? It only means a few bucks less per month on my pension. I’m ready to move on, Terry. Running a school, working in a school, it’s not like it used to be, you know? I mean, you always had tough kids, but it’s worse now. They’re armed. Their parents don’t give a shit. I gave the system forty years and now I want out. Millicent and I, we sell the house, sock some money into the bank, head to Bradenton, maybe my blood pressure will start to go down a little bit.”
“You do look a bit tense today. Maybe you should go home.”
“I’m all right.” He paused. Rolly didn’t smoke, but he looked like a smoker who desperately needed to light up. “Millicent’s already retired. There’s nothing to stop me. None of us are getting any younger, right? You never know how much longer you’ve got. You’re here one minute, gone the next.”
“Oh,” I said. “That reminds me.”
“What?”
“About Tess.”
Rolly blinked. “What about Tess?”
“It turns out, she’s going to be okay.”
“What?”
“They did another test, turns out the initial diagnosis was wrong. She’s not dying. She’s going to be okay.”
Rolly looked stupefied. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m telling you she’s going to be okay.”
“But,” he said slowly, as if unable to take it all in, “those doctors, they told her she was dying. And now, what, they say they were wrong?”
“You know,” I said, “this is not what I’d call bad news.”
Rolly blinked. “No, of course not. It’s wonderful news. Better than getting good news and then getting bad, I suppose.”
“True.”
Rolly glanced at his watch. “Listen, I’ve got to go.”
So did I. My creative writing class started in one minute. The last assignment I’d given them was to write a letter to someone they didn’t know, and to tell this person—real or imaginary—something they didn’t feel they could tell anyone else. “Sometimes,” I said, “it’s easier to tell a stranger something very personal. It’s like there’s less risk, opening yourself up to someone who doesn’t know you.”
When I asked for a volunteer to kick things off, to my amazement, Bruno, the class wiseass, put up his hand.
“Bruno?”
“Yes, sir, I’m ready.”
It was unlike Bruno