Already Gone - By John Rector Page 0,14
be our project.”
“You don’t want me anywhere near your garden,” I say. “I have a black thumb. Everything I touch dies.”
“You just don’t want to do the work.”
“I’ll help if you want, but you’ll regret it.” I turn toward the window and look out over the campus and the slow thread of students passing below. “Just don’t say I didn’t give you fair warning.”
“Consider me warned,” she says. “But all it takes is a little patience. You’ll be fine.”
“We’ll see. Patience isn’t my strong—”
There’s a pause, then Diane says, “Are you there?”
I don’t answer her.
I barely hear her.
I lean against the windowsill and focus on the two men sitting on the bench in front of my office. The big one, leaning back with his hands behind his head, and the little one next to him, wrapped in a khaki army coat. It’s the first time I’ve seen them since the night in the parking lot, but I have no doubt it’s them.
Diane asks me again if I’m there.
This time I find my voice.
“I have to go.”
“What?”
I move away from the window and say, “I have to call you back.”
“Why? What’s going on?”
I hesitate before I say anything, and that gives me away. Diane can tell when I’m hiding something, and she asks again.
This time, I tell her the truth.
“Are you sure it’s them?”
“It’s them,” I say. “I’m going down there.”
This makes things worse, and the next time Diane speaks, I can hear the panic in her voice.
“Jake, don’t.”
“It’s okay. I just want to talk.”
“What?”
“They’re right outside my office. What do you want me to do, pretend they’re not there?”
“Call the police. Let them handle it.”
“Like they’ve handled it so far?”
“Please.” The panic is fading from Diane’s voice, replaced by sadness, deep and tired. “Don’t go down there, Jake. Promise me.”
I walk back to the window and look out.
They’re still out there.
“Goddamn it, Diane.”
“Jake, promise me.”
I stare out at the two men and try to stay calm.
“Jake?”
A group of girls walks by, and the big guy leans in and says something to the little one in the army coat.
He laughs, and I hate him for it.
“Jake, answer me.”
Diane is crying now, and it brings me back.
“All right,” I say. “I’ll call the police.”
Diane is still crying.
“I thought this was over. I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault.”
But it is, and we both know it.
Something long buried is worming its way back into my life, our life. I don’t know who’s behind it, but I’m going to find out.
Just not today.
Today, I’m going to call the police.
“I want you to promise me something, Jake.”
The tears are gone, but the sadness is still there.
“What’s that?”
“Promise me you won’t get carried away,” she says. “Promise me you won’t do anything stupid.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Just promise me,” she says. “Promise me you’ll control your temper.”
“Jesus, Diane, I told you I’d call the police and I won’t go down there. What else do you want?”
“I want you to promise me.”
“Fine, I promise.”
Diane is quiet.
I’m about to tell her I need to get off the phone if I’m going to call the police, but she speaks first.
“I love you, Jake.”
There’s something in her voice that I don’t like, something final, and I start to worry.
“Listen, I’ll call the police and come straight home. We can talk when I get there, okay?”
No answer.
“We’ll laugh about all this someday. You’ll see.”
Diane pauses. “Just remember your promise.”
“Diane, I—”
The line clicks, and she’s gone.
I stand there for a moment, staring out the window with the phone pressed against my ear. Then I walk back to my desk and set the receiver in the cradle.
I hesitate before I pick it up again and dial the number for the police. I go through all the right steps, just like she asked. It’s not how I want to handle it, but I gave my word.
The police haven’t been able to do anything, and I don’t see that changing this time.
And I’m right.
By the time the police arrive, the two men are gone.
After the police leave, I walk home. I keep an eye out for the two men the entire way, but there’s no one outside. The streets are deserted. The only sounds come from the wind and the scatter of dead leaves shuffling across the sidewalk as I pass.
When I get close to my house, I see that Diane’s car is gone, and something inside me falls away.
I force myself to keep moving, but each step feels heavier than the last. I want to believe