The Night Listener : A Novel

me?”
    I said my feelings were more complicated than that.
    “Jess told me about your dad,” he said. “Is he okay?”
    “No. I don’t think he has much time left.” It was hard to put that into words, but Pete was still my confessor, for better or worse.
    “I’m really sorry, Dad.”
    I sighed for so many different reasons. “This is weird, Pete. I have to tell you.”
    “I know, but I miss you so much, Dad. I just want another chance.” He was weeping now—extravagantly—so I waited for him to stop.
    “Look,” I said at last, “I’m not going anywhere. I just don’t understand. Were you hiding when I came to your house?”
    “No,” he said emphatically. “I didn’t even know you were there.
    I was in Milwaukee with Marsha.”
    “At the hospital?”
    “Yeah. Getting my fucking tests done. It was just a coincidence that I wasn’t at home, but Mom sort of…went with it. She’d already told Ashe I was dead, so she didn’t have any choice but to say it again.”
    “Where’s Donna now?”
    You’re talking to her, you sentimental fool .
    “Down at the post office,” said Pete. “Closing out our account.”
    “Why?”
    “We’re leaving day after tomorrow.”
    “For good, you mean?”
    “Yeah.”
    “Where are you going?”
    “I don’t know yet. Mom won’t say. Marsha’s driving us to the airport. Mom just wants out of here.”
    “And what do you want?”
    “It’s okay with me, I guess. One place is pretty much like another for me. As long as there’s a telephone I’m fine.”
    “Will you give me your number when you get there?” He didn’t answer.
    “What’s the matter, Pete?”
    “I think it’s better if I just call you. Mom would be really upset if she knew we were still in touch.”
    “Why?”
    “She doesn’t trust you anymore. She got really weirded out when you followed her home.”
    I told him I was ashamed about that.
    “I kind of understand it,” said Pete, “but it really bothered her.
    She thinks you’re obsessed with me or something.” That took me aback. “What do you think?” He didn’t hesitate. “I think you just love me.” I knew I was supposed to confirm this, but I just couldn’t find the words.
    Pete kept on: “I didn’t know that for sure, you know, until you came to see me. When I heard that, man…” His voice cracked piti-fully.
    “Are you all right, kiddo?”
    “Yeah. I’m fine.”
    “I want to ask you something, okay?”
    “Okay,” he said warily.
    “Did something happen to your mom when she was little?” Silence.
    “Do you understand me?”
    “Yeah, but…I just don’t know. She never talks about her childhood.”
    “Have you ever asked her?”
    “No. It’s hard, man, when you know she doesn’t want to talk.” I hear you, I thought. I’ve been there myself.
    “And she’s done so much for me, you know.”
    “But maybe that’s why, Pete. Maybe her life was as bad as yours, and she wanted to make things easier for somebody else. Did she ever tell you what caused her blindness?”
    “Some disease, I think, when she was little.”
    “What about that scar on her arm?”
    “She fell down the stairs.”
    “It doesn’t look like that. It looks like it was—”
    “Oh, shit!”
    “What’s the matter?”
    “She’s coming back. The post office must have been closed.”
    “Well, can’t you just—”
    “I gotta go, Dad.” His voice had lowered to a frantic whisper. “I’ll call you as soon as I can, okay?”
    I didn’t have a chance to answer before he hung up. Or to reflect on the possibility that I might never hear from him again.
    I awoke the next morning at nine, when Josie arrived at my room with a lavishly laid-out breakfast tray. I was on the verge of praising her when I noticed the ruined state of her eyes.
    “You heard something,” I said, leaving off the question mark.
    She nodded. “Several hours ago. I didn’t want to wake you. You looked so peaceful.”
    Her lip began to tremble, so I pushed the tray aside, and held her in my arms while she cried.
     
    TWENTY-NINE

    FATHER, SON, AND HOLY
    GHOST

    THE FUNERAL WAS HELD at St. Michael’s and drew a standing-room-only crowd, a fact that would have pleased Pap no end. There were two former governors in attendance and ol’ Strom himself, thrilled to be working such an aristocratic crowd. The reception at the house began on an appropriately stately note and deteriorated sharply from there. By late afternoon it was just another shrill