dressed. If we were going to be intimate at some point in the relationship, I at least wanted to remember it. I gave him another look; he had gotten thin. He was on the thin side to begin with, but since the last time I had seen him this undressed—in the spring—he had clearly lost some weight.
He dug into a D’Agostino’s shopping bag next to my dresser and pulled out a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt, both of which he put on. “Why don’t you get up and we can both take Trixie for a walk?” He pulled a pair of low hikers onto his feet.
Trixie bounded over to my side of the bed and gave me a look that told me I wasn’t getting off the hook. I pulled myself out of bed and found a cardigan sweater in the closet that I could pull on over my bad arm. I slipped my feet into clogs. “Ready.”
Crawford gave me the once-over. “You’re going outside in your pajamas?”
“More disturbing is that I haven’t brushed my teeth or hair, but what the hell?” I took his hand. “Let’s walk this animal.”
Trixie followed us downstairs and into the kitchen. I found an old New York Times home delivery bag to pick up whatever present Trixie left us and we headed outside. The day was bright, sunny, and pleasant. Crawford came out behind me, Trixie on her leash, and we started down the driveway. The sound of bagpipes came wafting through the light breeze.
“Is there a parade today?” Crawford asked.
I pointed to Bagpipe Kid’s house. “No, the kid over there plays the bagpipes. Badly.”
“How can you tell?” he asked. Trixie sat down on the driveway and looked over at her former abode. She whined softly and looked up at the two of us. “Everyone who plays the bagpipes sounds awful.” He walked Trixie to the front of my house and let her stroll around, looking for a spot that suited her. After a few minutes, she squatted and took care of business. “Good girl, Trixie,” he said, and scooped everything up in the plastic bag. He turned to hand it to me. “Here you go.”
I stepped back, crinkling my nose in disgust. “What do you want me to do with that?”
“Put it in the garbage?” he suggested.
I took the bag between my thumb and index finger and walked back up the driveway to put it in the garbage can. When I came back to where Trixie and Crawford were standing, he handed me the leash.
“I’ll walk into town and get us some coffee. Are you hungry?” he asked.
What kind of question was that? Of course I was hungry. I’m always hungry. “There’s an Italian deli in town,” I said, figuring it was safer to send Crawford to Tony’s alone than to accompany him and risk Tony’s wrath. “Go there. He’s got espresso and cappuccino and muffins. Tony’s. You can’t miss it.” I gave him general directions.
“Got it.” He started down the driveway. “Do you think you can stay out of trouble until I get back?” he asked, calling back over his shoulder.
“I’ll try,” I said, and knelt down to rub Trixie’s head. I watched him amble down the street, waiting until he was out of sight before starting back up the driveway.
I gave Jackson and Terri’s house another look. There were still curtains hanging in the windows, and the lawn furniture—a leftover vestige from the summer—was still on the back patio. It looked like they still lived there, but there was clearly no sign of them. The minivan was gone and, apparently, so were they.
Something occurred to me. When Jackson and Terri had first moved in, I remember him giving me his card. Something about “if you ever need anything.” Yeah, I need you to leave me alone and mind your own beeswax, had been my first thought; I had been going through a particularly rough patch with Ray and was kind of cranky. But I thought about that card now and figured if I could find it, I could call his work number to see what the message was on his voice mail.
I ran up to the bedroom that doubles as an office. Ray had used this room mostly, but I had an old table that served as a desk with old checks, bills, letters, and the like strewn across its oak top. I rummaged through a bunch of the papers. “Oh, there’s my diploma!” I said happily. I had been