The Tenth Justice - Brad Meltzer [98]
“But you still have to look through them yourself,” Ober said.
“Just shut up and look,” Nathan said.
“These people are all starting to look the same,” Ober said two hours later. “Every class is the same: bald guy, ugly guy, ugly girl, bald guy, ugly girl, bald girl.”
“They’re certainly not a pretty bunch,” Nathan agreed.
“I think we should have a contest,” Ober said. “The person that finds the ugliest picture wins.”
“What do you win?” Ben asked.
“It doesn’t matter,” Nathan said, sitting up on the couch. “I just won. Take a look at this freak.”
Passing the book to Ober, Nathan pointed to a picture of Ben from his days at Yale Law School. “Look at you,” Ober said. “What’d you comb your hair with that morning? A rake?”
“It definitely wasn’t my best hair day,” Ben admitted, looking at the picture.
“I’ll say,” Ober said. “It looks like you slept with a small box around your hair. It’s almost a perfect square.”
“We should try to find Lisa’s picture,” Nathan said, moving toward the Stanford pile. “She graduated the same year as you, didn’t she?” He flipped through the appropriate yearbook. “She’s not in here,” Nathan said after a minute. “She’s apparently camera shy.”
“Really?” Ben asked suspiciously.
“See for yourself,” Nathan said, handing Ben the yearbook. “She’s nowhere to be found.”
Ben scanned through the last names that started with S. Finding no picture, he flipped to the back of the photo section and saw Lisa’s name among the list of “Not Pictured” students. “Y’know what I was just thinking?” he finally asked. “What if…”
Before Ben could finish his thought, Eric opened the front door, stepped inside, and shook the snow from his hair. “It’s almost midnight,” Ober said, looking at his watch. “This is an early work night, even for you.”
“What’re you guys doing?” Eric asked, immediately noticing the yearbooks scattered around the room.
“If you don’t mind, this is private,” Ben said.
“Nice to see you, too,” Eric said to Ben. “By the way, I wanted to talk to you about your note.”
“There’s nothing to talk about,” Ben said. “Just let me know what your decision is. I won’t fight you on it.”
“But what about—”
“I don’t want to discuss it now. So unless you have an answer, can you excuse us? I want to discuss something in private.”
“Can we talk about it tomorrow?” Eric asked, scratching at the five o’clock shadow on his chin.
“No, I already told you what—”
“Ben, if you expect me to move out, the least you can do is spare half an hour. Now, can we please talk tomorrow?”
“Fine,” Ben acquiesced, grabbing a piece of pizza crust from his plate. “I’ll find you tomorrow.”
As Eric walked up the stairs, Nathan asked, “What was that about?”
“I left him a note that said I wanted his decision as soon as possible. If he doesn’t move out after New Year’s, I will. I just need to know so I can start looking for a place.”
“Ben, please don’t do this,” Ober pleaded. “You guys can work it out.”
“No, we can’t,” Ben said. “We’re way beyond working it out. I know the idea upsets you, but we can’t all be best friends for the rest of our lives.”
“Don’t say that,” Ober shot back angrily. “All you have to do is—”
“I don’t have to do anything. Whatever Eric decides, I’m abiding by. I really don’t care at this point.”
“You don’t care?” Ober asked. “How can you be so dense?”
“I’m dense?” Ben responded. “This is coming from the man who wants to open a non-Jewish deli, and who thinks Mussolini is a kind of pastry, and who thinks it’s a federal crime that the Air and Space Museum doesn’t sell bombpops! This is the person telling me I’m dense?”
Looking as if he had the wind knocked out of him, Ober was silent.
“What?” Ben asked.
Nathan turned to Ben. “Was that really necessar—”
“I’m not stupid,” Ober said, his voice shaking. “I may not be as great as Super Ben Addison, but I’m not a moron.”
“I’m sorry,” Ben said defensively. “I was just trying to—”
“You were just trying to make yourself feel better,” Ober interrupted, his eyes welling with tears.