imagined myself in Nicky’s place, wondering how I would go on if Anne had died in such a freak accident, my wife undoubtedly saw her own mortality in the randomness of Carolyn’s death.
Whatever Nicky took to calm himself, it knocked him out good. He was still fast asleep at ten, when Anne would have otherwise headed out to do her open mic set. Tonight, however, she stayed in, and we spent the evening—our first weeknight together in weeks—watching television.
“How is Nick going to go on after this?” she asked.
“What choice will he have?”
“I don’t think I could . . . if something happened to you, I mean.”
I smiled at her. “Nothing is going to happen to me. But I know what you mean. I can’t imagine my life without you either. I know it’s not the most romantic notion, but something I learned when my parents died is that you don’t decide to go on after a tragedy, you just do because . . . well, it’s the only path available. You’re never the same after, and I’m certain that will be true of Nicky too.”
“Promise me that you’ll never die, Clint.”
“I promise,” I said with a smile. “Never. But only if you promise too.”
“Yep. Never.”
At midnight, we moved Nicky to our sofa. Once we were back in our bed, Anne quickly drifted off, but I knew sleep would be elusive for me. At the forefront of my restlessness on the night of Carolyn’s death was something that Anne had told me a few months earlier. At my urging, Nicky had allowed Anne to be the first reader of his manuscript. She appeared to be engrossed from the first page, and she read late into the night to finish the novel. When I heard her put the manuscript back in its paper bag, I asked for her review.
“It’s great,” she said.
“Nicky swore to me it wasn’t about him and me. Was he lying?”
“No. Well, not entirely. It’s still about him, but you’re not in it, at least as far as I could tell. The main character is this guy who’s just like Nick, or his view of himself, at least: a wildly talented artist destined for greatness. Hence the title—Precipice—because he’s on the verge. But then he falls in love with a woman who threatens to ruin his life.”
“What happens in the end?” I asked.
“She dies,” Anne said. “So it all works out for our hero in the end, after all.”
4.
The St. Ignatius Church was spectacular in every way, from the enormous bronze doors providing the gateway from Park Avenue to the Palladian arched windows that captured the eye immediately upon entry. The main sanctuary was the epitome of Baroque architecture, with polished pink marble pillars supporting a seventy-foot arched ceiling, and a central aisle more than twice that long.
It was the same church where Nicky and Carolyn had been married only five weeks earlier. Approximately a hundred guests had filled the chapel for their wedding, but five times as many came to pay their final respects to Carolyn. Martin Quinn lawyers were out in full force, as were the Zamoras’ neighbors from Astoria, many of whom I hadn’t seen since childhood. As I took in the mourners dressed in black, I couldn’t help but recall the contrast to Carolyn in her magnificent white wedding dress, and how the bridesmaids had looked like bursts of flame in red gowns.
It had been four days since Carolyn’s death. Or three, depending on whether the count began on Sunday night or Monday morning, when Nicky discovered her body. It had snowed every day during that stretch, something the weatherman claimed hadn’t happened in more than fifty years.
Two days earlier, on Tuesday, the Challenger shuttle had exploded on live television, killing all seven astronauts, including Christa McAuliffe, the elementary school teacher on board. Nicky and I had been watching from my living room. I’d thought that the diversion might be good for him. To be part of something uplifting, rather than continue wallowing in his grief. As the rocket disintegrated in front of us, leaving only twin smoke trails, Nicky looked at the screen without saying a word. It was almost as if he had expected the disaster, because in his new mind-set, everything ended with senseless death.
Anne had tried to engage Nicky about the arrangements for Carolyn’s funeral, but he was unable to handle even the most routine tasks. As a result, Carolyn’s parents had planned the funeral as a full-on ecclesiastical affair,