Unexpectedly, Milo - Matthew Dicks [40]
“Fine. I’ll do the same.” She then turned and left the apartment, slamming the door behind her.
Milo considered following her for a moment, desperate to avoid the awkwardness of his wife’s latest dramatic exit, not wanting to endure the suspense over when she might call again. But instead he turned off the burner, removed the skillet from the stove, and retrieved tape number six from the floor and replaced it in the nylon bag.
Tape number three was the one that he needed.
chapter 11
Had Christine not found the camera and tapes, Milo might have stood by his decision to stop watching completely. But a wave of indignation and loneliness rose up in him as the door slammed behind Christine, and before he had given it any conscious thought, the camera was reconnected to the television and tape three was playing.
Okay. First secret. I like to eat in hospital cafeterias. Not a huge secret, and I know it sounds ridiculous, but it’s true. The food is usually good and cheap as hell, and there’s something about hospitals that I like. Knowing that I’m there for some reason other than being sick or dying—knowing that there is a reason to be there other than dying makes me feel … I don’t know. Better about things.
And it’s just easier to eat in a cafeteria. No waitress to deal with. No tipping. You get to choose your seat. I hate walking into a restaurant full of empty tables and not being allowed to choose the one I want.
And I love Jell-O. Not the unrefrigerated crap that they put in snack packs. I like the kind that requires boiling water and a saucepan. I love the stuff but I’ve never made it once in my life. Single people just don’t make Jell-O. But hospital cafeterias do. When I was a kid, I thought Jell-O was some kind of magical food. What other food needs to chill in the refrigerator but starts out at a boil? Reminds me of that fire and ice poem by whoever that was.
Freckles was back on the couch, wearing a hooded sweatshirt and a pair of jeans. She sounded conversational and relaxed. More relaxed than any previous recording. It was clear that she was now recording for herself. No more audience to consider.
So there you have it. My first secret. I like to eat in hospital cafeterias. When I say it out loud like that, it doesn’t sound like such a big deal after all.
Milo paused the tape, catching it in the moment of blackness between frames, attempting to determine if there was any information worth writing down. She said that she was single, but he had already assumed that. Not that it mattered. Despite promises to himself to begin searching for Freckles’s identity with the information that he had gathered so far, he hadn’t so much as turned on the computer. When the choice was between searching online for the identity of Mira, Freckles’s deceased friend, or watching more of the tapes, the tapes won out.
And perhaps he also knew that if he was able to identify and locate Freckles, then he wouldn’t be able to watch the tapes anymore. While he wanted to find Freckles and return the camera and tapes, he was admittedly not in a rush.
Deciding that Freckles hadn’t revealed anything else of value, Milo pressed play again.
When her image returned to the screen, she was no longer sitting on the couch. Pillows and the fuzzy corner of a blanket indicated that she was in bed again. Her face filled the screen, looking down on the lens this time, as if the camera was resting in her lap, pointing up. A dim yellow glow to her left was the only source of illumination in the room. Probably a bedside lamp, Milo thought.
Despite the limited lighting, Milo could tell by the look on Freckles’s face that something was wrong. There was a fierceness in her eyes that he had not seen before. It caused Milo to lean forward and grip his pen with unconscious force.
I couldn’t sleep. Either I’m going to do this right or not at all. Fine. I eat in hospital cafeterias. But if that’s the