Redhead by the Side of the Road - Anne Tyler Page 0,12

saw he’d made a mistake. “Only kidding,” he said. “Can I top off your coffee?”

Brink shook his head.

On the kitchen counter, Micah’s cell phone rang. He stood up and went over to peer at the screen. It was an unfamiliar number. He unplugged the phone from its charger and answered it. “Tech Hermit,” he said.

“Is this Micah Mortimer?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, thank God. You’re a difficult man to track down. You probably don’t remember me; my name’s Keith Wayne, and you helped me out some years ago when you were with Computer-Master. Well, I’ve stopped using Computer-Master; they don’t know beans, I’ve learned…”

He paused, perhaps to let Micah chime in and agree with him. Micah actually did not agree; Computer-Master was the first place he’d been hired, and he’d learned a lot there. But he’d left because the boss was a jerk—the type who began his sentences with “Listen here” and “Look, buddy”—so he stayed silent, and eventually Mr. Wayne picked up where he had trailed off. “And now I find myself in an emergency situation,” he said. “I’ve lost every single thing on my computer. Documents, tax files—everything.”

“Was it backed up?”

“Well, see, I know I should have backed up…”

Micah sighed and reached for the notepad beside the toaster. “Okay,” he said, “where you located?”

The man lived in Rodgers Forge. Micah told him he’d be there by eleven. Secretly, he was glad to have an excuse to get moving. After he hung up he told Brink, “Looks like I’ll need to see to this.”

Brink nodded and rose to his feet, not meeting Micah’s eyes. He didn’t seem angry anymore, just dejected. As he headed for the door, he said, “Well, anyhow, thanks for the coffee.”

“Try asking your mom again, hear?” Micah called after him.

Brink just lifted one hand and let it flop as he walked out the door.

“And tell her I said hello!” Micah added, like an idiot. But the door was already closing again with a quiet, conclusive click.

Micah stood motionless for maybe a full minute before he gave his shoulders a shake and went off to take his shower.

* * *

—

Mr. Wayne’s lost files were merely in hiding, it turned out. Micah located them in no time, and Mr. Wayne was abjectly grateful. “However…” Micah said sternly, and Mr. Wayne raised both palms and said, “I know! I know! I’ve learned my lesson: from now on I’m backing up.”

Micah should have asked him how he planned to do that. Chances were he had no notion how. Then Micah could have explained the options and maybe set something up for him, which would have added significantly to the minimum fee he’d just earned. But his heart wasn’t in it, somehow. He seemed to be experiencing a nagging sense of something left undone, or done poorly, and so he just said, “Well, you’ve got my number if you need me,” and made his escape.

It was the boy, he thought as he drove down Charles Street. That boy Brink was still tugging at his mind. Clearly he’d been going through a crisis of some kind, and yet Micah had more or less thrown him out. In hindsight he felt guilty about that, partly for Brink’s sake and partly for Lorna’s, because even after all these years he still thought of Lorna fondly. Or once again thought of her fondly, was more like it. (Their breakup had been an angry one; he’d caught her kissing another guy.) But she was his first real love, after all. He had never had much experience with girls. He’d been considered sort of a loner.

When they met he was a junior and she was a brand-new freshman, eating on her own in the cafeteria while the other girls sat in squealing, giggling groups at nearby tables. Her veil of dark hair and her thin face, completely bare of makeup; her pale blouse and faded skirt with their overlaundered look—everything spoke of a certain set-apartness. Yet there was nothing shy or humble about her. She seemed eerily self-contained. He set his tray on her table and asked, “Okay if I sit here?”