rustled, and Alan’s T-shirt flattened out against his body as he walked aimlessly. He was hungry again, and needed to pee. He spotted the State House and walked toward it, knowing there’d be bars nearby. The first one he passed was a faux-Irish pub on the corner called Rosie McClean’s that was empty except for a table of Japanese tourists eating an early dinner. Alan sat at the bar and ordered fish and chips and a large Coke. After drinking the Coke, he asked for another, but with Old Overholt in it. He knew enough about day drinking to know that if he quit now, he’d wind up with a splitting headache for the rest of the night. The fish and chips came and the food made him feel better, less drunk, and he ordered another rye and Coke and thought about his conversation with Jack.
Alan’s phone rang. He pulled it out of his bag and checked the screen. His sister. He was all set to hit Ignore, but then decided to answer, just in case she had a real reason to call and wasn’t just checking up on him.
“Just checking in,” Hannah said after they’d said hello.
“I’m fine.”
“You sound funny. Have you been drinking?”
“A little bit. I’m eating, too. My mouth was full.”
“Don’t forget to call Mom on her birthday.”
“Uh-huh. That’s why you called?” Alan was annoyed, even though he probably would have forgotten.
“No. I’m worried about you. I had this crazy dream.”
Alan listened while Hannah described, in detail, the dream she’d had where she found Alan dead in his apartment, a rotting corpse, after not hearing from him for years. During the description, Alan finished his drink and ordered another one by catching the bartender’s eye and pointing at his empty glass.
“Hey,” Alan said after Hannah stopped talking about the dream, “do you remember that time you were a camp counselor and I came up for the weekend?”
There was a pause. Alan could hear one of her kids—it sounded like Izzie—laughing in the background. “I guess so. I think so. Oh yeah, Mom and Dad made me take you so they could go to the Cape alone.”
Alan didn’t remember that part. He said, “You know, that was the first time I saw a naked girl. I spied on her through a hole in the wall.”
“What? A counselor?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Ha. Do you remember who it was?”
“I don’t know if I ever knew her name. She was kind of chubby.”
“Was it Allie something?”
“I never knew her name, but I think she turned me into a pervert.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Because I was spying on her, without her knowing I was doing it.”
“Oh God. You and everyone else at that pervy camp. All the walls had knotholes in them. She probably knew she was being watched. Look, as much as I’d love to hear more creepy stories from my drunk brother, I’ve gotta go. Call Mom, and don’t be a fucking stranger.”
When Alan finally left the pub, it was filled with after-work drinkers. The darkness outside somehow shocked him. It was colder, too, and Alan, wearing only a T-shirt, was nearly shivering by the time he reached 101 Bury.
Maybe because he was drunk, or maybe because of the peculiar light that night, the apartment building seemed taller than usual, towering behind its gate. Moonlight reflected on the slate roof of the next building over, and across the street, a homeless man was trying to keep warm in a doorway. Low lights were on in Kate’s apartment. During the walk, he’d decided that he needed to see her no matter what. He needed to find out why she’d left his apartment without saying goodbye. He needed to tell her what he’d learned from Jack, and he even wanted to tell her how his sister had called, and he’d finally told her the big secret about what he’d done at her summer camp, and she’d barely cared. He walked across the courtyard and through the lobby, nodding toward Sanibel, and wondering if the doorman even noticed that he was taking the stairs toward the north wing and not the south. He walked down the hallway, aware, peripherally, of Audrey’s door and of what had happened in that apartment, but focusing on Kate’s door. He was about to knock, but stopped himself. What if she didn’t answer? In fact, why would she answer? She hadn’t earlier in the morning, when he’d known she was just on the other side, probably looking at him through the peephole.