“I asked you how much time we have left.”
“A few hours, maybe a day at most. I can tell they’re calling me back. It’s getting harder and harder for me to move around, and my vision is starting to get blurry up close. My hearing is going too. I must be getting old!”
“It looks to me like you’re getting younger. And could you please stop with the dark humor? You’re the only one who finds it funny.”
“There’s nothing funny to me about leaving you. But I’ve always found humor to be the most elegant strategy for dealing with adversity.”
“What about compassion?”
“Compassion is a noble choice, son. Feel as much of it as you’d like. Just make sure you feel some for other people too.”
Raymond sat down in front of the dark television screen. Thomas walked over to the coffee table, but before he could do anything, Raymond said, “Leave the remote alone. If I wanted to turn the TV on, I’d have done it myself.”
“What do you want to do, then?”
“I want you to take me to see the Golden Gate Bridge, and to bring my urn.”
“I’m happy to go there with you, but your ashes can stay here. You’re not allowed to give up. I still need you.”
Raymond nodded as his lips formed a crooked smile.
“Then call your friend Uber, and we’ll have ourselves a day to remember!”
Manon was pacing, phone in hand. She had just chased out a customer, claiming she had to close early to do inventory. Ever since the detective had left, she’d been tormented by conflicting thoughts. She nearly canceled the dinner plans ten different times, but she kept changing her mind for reasons that eluded her. The heat was stifling, so she turned on the air conditioning before returning to her desk.
As she worked, she couldn’t seem to add properly, and she even had to void one purchase order and start over. She also spent a long time searching for her accounting ledger, which she finally located on the international literature table. As she picked it up, the breeze from the air conditioner’s fan suddenly reminded her of a merry-go-round long buried under the sands of time. The wooden horses started spinning, taking her back to forgotten summers.
A little girl clutching a golden mane. Her mother sitting on a bench, looking on. And next to her, a man who waved his hat and smiled, a little boy driving a fire truck by his feet.
The car wound down El Camino del Mar on its way to the ocean. Raymond wanted the driver to stop for a minute in front of a property located at the top of Sea Cliff Avenue. He pressed his head against the car’s window and studied its facade.
“What did you do after my death?” he asked distractedly.
“I played concert after concert.”
“Just as I hoped.”
“What do you mean?”
“I hoped you wouldn’t fall into despair. That you wouldn’t blame the world for your misery. Really, I just didn’t want you to be sad. Well, a little sad, but only the minimal amount of sadness, if you know what I mean.”
“Not really.”
“And after that? You couldn’t have spent all your time in concert halls.”
“Well, there was Sophie.”
“Ah, Sophie. And then?”
“I haven’t been with as many women as you might imagine.”
“I’m asking what you did with yourlife.”
“I’m a pianist. I play the piano! What else should I be doing?”
“I’m going to share a little secret with you—and not just any secret. I was a surgeon, and I spent my life operating.”
“That’s hardly a secret.”
