“Oh, man.” She sucked her teeth, likeouch. “But he was still a good one, right?”
“He was sweet,” I said. It didn’t seem like enough.
“He was a good banjo player—”
“Pretty good,” I admitted. “He was a feminist. And very earnest.”
“In bed, you mean? Was he a…Southerngentleman?”
“Oona!”
“Well!” Oona said, blushing a bit, too. “He was good with the dogs. Andtheyliked him. You can tell a lot about someone by howdogsfeel about them. Joey could get loud about free will and bluegrass and was really far too competitive at darts, but he really seemed like… he loved you.”
“We didn’t use that word,” I said. I had never used that word, not with anyone.
“Oh,” she said.
I sang songs about love and heartbreak all the time, you know? I just didn’t feel them. God, Bern was right. I was hollow. “But yeah,” I said. “He tried. To love me.”
“Oh, Doll, baby,” Oona said. “Why don’t you go back to bed? I’ll bring you some coffee. You want a pancake or something?”
I shook my head.
“I’ve got to take the mutts out for their constitutional, but then I’ll be back if you want to talk before I go into work. Hey, did you see lights on in the place next door? I’m hoping it’s a yoga studio. My chakras are all a mess.”
When she was gone, I had a shower and another cry, but then I felt better and got dressed in clean clothes, jeans, and a T-shirt rescued from the apartment, and another sweater of Alex’s I’d borrowed. But then I wasn’t sure what to do. I didn’t actually want to talk to Oona, to be asked questions about Joey. Or be tempted to spill my doubtsabout Alex. And I didn’t want to spend all day in the pub with Alex, either, hiding my fresh-cry face and avoiding the topic of the security cameras.
The doorbell rang. It had been maybe twenty minutes since Oona took the dogs out. I should teach her how to pop the lock on the door, but I didn’t think she wanted to know how easy it was to get into her place.
“Did you forget your keys?” I was saying as I swung the door open.
But it was Sicily on the landing.
“Hi?” she said. “You look nice.”
Speaking of red, puffy eyes. I looked away. I didn’t know if I had it in me for this.
“I look normal,” I said. “Did something happen? Or did you forget something in the pub?”
“I like those jeans.”
“It’s only that they’re not pajama pants,” I said. “What’s going on? Why are you here?”
“I got a call about you? From the police? And also… you left?” she said, not looking me in the eyes. “You didn’t say anything. You were justgone.”
“It’s called an Irish goodbye,” I said. “With a mom like Marisa, you’re lucky you’ve never encountered it.”
Although as soon as I said it, I realized she had. “Have you heard from her?” I asked.
“Can I come in?”
We stared at each other. “I was going out,” I said.
“Out where?”
Why wasn’t I a better liar? All that stage presence was wasted down here on Earth. “Down to the pub,” I said.
“Is it open?”
