As before, it took several minutes for Cindy to come to the telephone, and when she did, surprisingly, there was none of the fire she had shown during their previous conversation, only an icy chill. She listened in silence to Mel's explanation---why it was essential he should remain at the airport. Because of the lack of argument, which he had not expected, he found himself floundering, with labored excuses not wholly convincing to himself. He stopped abruptly.
There was a pause before Cindy inquired coldly, "Have you finished?"
"Yes."
She sounded as if she were talking to someone distasteful and remote. "I'm not surprised, because I didn't expect you to come. When you said you would, I assumed as usual you were lying."
He said heatedly, "I wasn't lying, and it isn't as usual. I told you earlier tonight, how many times I've been..."
"I thought you said you'd finished."
Mel stopped. What was the use? He conceded wearily, "Go on."
"As I was trying to say when you interrupted---also as usual..."
"Cindy, for God's sake!"
"...knowing you were lying, gave me the chance to do some thinking." She paused. "You say you're staying at the airport."
"Considering that's what this conversation is all about..."
"How long?"
"Until midnight; perhaps all night."
"Then I'll come out there. You can expect me."
"Listen, Cindy, it's no good. This isn't the time or place."
"Then we'll make it the time. And for what I have to say to you, any place is good enough."
"Cindy, please be reasonable. I agree there are things we have to discuss, but not..."
Mel stopped, realizing he was talking to himself. Cindy had hung up.
He replaced his own phone and sat in the silent office, meditatively. Then, not quite knowing why, he picked up the telephone again and, for the second time tonight, dialed home. Earlier, Roberta had answered. This time it was Mrs. Sebastiani, their regular babysitter.
"I was just calling to check," Mel said. "Is everything all right? Are the girls in bed?"
"Roberta is, Mr. Bakersfeld. Libby's just going."
"May I speak to Libby?"
"Well... just for a moment, if you promise to be very quick."
"I promise."
Mrs. Sebastiani, Mel perceived, was her usual didactic self. When on duty she exacted obedience, not just from children, but from entire families. He sometimes wondered if the Sebastianis---there was a mousy husband who appeared occasionally---ever had emotional marriage problems. He suspected not. Mrs. Sebastiani would never permit it.
He heard the patter of Libby's feet approach the phone.
Libby's questions were always intriguingly different. She opened new subjects as if they were presents under a Christmas tree.
"Not forever, dear; nothing's forever. Just so long as you five. Your blood has been going around for seven years, ever since your heart started pumping."
"I can feel my heart," Libby said. "In my knee."
He was on the point of explaining that hearts were not in knees, and about pulses and arteries and veins, then changed his mind. There was plenty of time for all that. As long as you could feel your heart---wherever it seemed to be---that was the important thing. Libby had an instinct for essentials; at times he had the impression that her little hands reached up and gathered stars of truth.
"Goodnight, Daddy."
"Goodnight, my love."
Mel was still not sure why be had called, but he felt better for having done so.
As to Cindy, when she determined to do something she usually did it, so it was entirely likely that she would arrive at the airport later tonight. And perhaps she was right. There were fundamental things they had to settle, notably whether their hollow shell of a marriage was to continue for the children's sake, or not. At least they would have privacy here, out of hearing of Roberta and Libby, who had overheard too many of their fights before.
At the moment there was nothing specific for Mel to do, except be available. He went out from his office onto the executive mezzanine, looking down on the continued bustling activity of the main terminal concourse.
It would not be many years, Mel reflected, before airport concourses changed dramatically. Something would have to be done soon to revise the present inefficient way in which people boarded airplanes and got off them. Simply walking on and off, individually, was far too cumbersome and slow. As each year passed, individual airplanes cost more and more millions of dollars; at the same time, the cost of letting them stay idle on the ground grew greater.