needs people like me so there can be people like you.”
Rafe raised an eyebrow. “People like me?”
“The ‘upstanding citizens.’ You all make me want to spit blue vomit, but I love you just the same. Unless you get this next shot. Then so help me I’ll stuff this cue stick so far up your ass…”
Rafe got the shot, and won the game.
“Another?” he asked, after emptying his bottle.
Hal slipped the piece of paper from his back pocket and waved it. They hugged goodbye, and Rafe paid his tab, still not certain if the bartender was a former student or just resembled a former student. At a certain age, and Rafe was chagrined to discover that age to be thirty-eight, the people whose names and faces he actually remembered became catalogued into Family (always remembered), Friends (sometimes remembered), and Everyone else (rarely remembered). Eventually, if he lived to be old enough, he’d forget everybody, even Sophie and Esme.
His heart lurched at the thought. Maybe it was the combination of beer and frivolity. Maybe it was an aftershock from his argument with his wife. But he suddenly needed, very badly, to hear her voice. He patted himself for his cell phone, but then remembered that in his haste to get to the hospital, he’d left it in his office. Already his mind was going. He crawled into his car and motored home. By the time he pulled into the garage, it was almost ten o’clock.
Esme’s car wasn’t there.
No, he told himself, it wouldn’t be. She was out saving the world. He was here.
Had she been right? Surely what she was doing now served a good purpose. Galileo needed to be stopped. He knew that. And just because his mind prioritized his memory by family, friends, and everyone else, that didn’t disqualify everyone else from significance. Civic duty existed. If anything, in specifically targeting policemen and firemen and teachers, Galileo had highlighted the unappreciated importance of civil service. How could he fault his own wife for this? There had to be a point where your community outweighed your family. Soldiers went off to war. Was this a negligent choice? Was it selfish? No.
He opened the driver’s side door and his cell phone tumbled out to the cement floor. It had been in his car all along. It must have fallen out of his pocket. It wasn’t the first time that had happened, nor would it be the last. Shaking his head at his own foolishness, he picked the phone back up and slipped it back into his pocket. His balance was a little wobbly, but his head was clear. He would kiss his daughter good-night, and then he would call his wife. And apologize.
His father was sitting on the living room sofa, asleep in front of a Discovery Channel program on shark attacks. The narrator’s enthusiasm intermingled with Lester’s throaty snores. A half-empty bowl of popcorn lay on the cushion next to him. Rafe grabbed a handful and quietly loped up the stairs to the second floor. He relied on the banister to steady his balance, but made it to the top without stumbling.
Sophie was soundlessly asleep in her bed, Bugs Bunny clutched to her chin. Rafe gently removed Bugs, lest the stuffed animal upset her breathing, and instead placed him beside her cheek.
“Good night, angel,” he whispered, and kissed his daughter on her scalp. She didn’t stir. He paused, then kissed Bugs good-night too. The things we take for granted, he mused, and padded down the corridor to his bedroom. He flicked on the light switch and removed his cell phone from his pocket. Before dialing his wife, though, he needed some fresh air. He turned to unlatch the window—but it was already open. A cool April breeze cavorted through what was left of his hair.
“Hello,” said a middle-aged man in a yellow Polo shirt. He was standing by the bedroom door, and he was holding a large revolver.
Instinctively, Rafe tried to rush past him, but Galileo easily blocked his path and smacked him in the chin with a quick jab of his palm. Rafe wobbled back. He tasted copper. He had bit down on his tongue and his mouth was filling with blood.
“Please,” said Galileo, “may I have your phone?”
Rafe spat out a tablespoon of blood.
“I had to kill a cop to get this gun. I didn’t want to do that. I wanted to fade away, but your wife forced my hand. But I’m confident she’ll be able to help me