The Night Listener : A Novel

DAYS—the ones that mattered, ironically enough—have dropped from memory. Nothing so grand as amnesia, just a run-of-the mill blank spot in the life of a writer unable to write.
    I’ve checked my appointment book for clues as to my state of mind but found only the usual evidence of an ordered but uneventful journey to sleep:
    Gym.
    Eileen—2 P.M.—teeth cleaning.
    Laundry ready.
    Screening at Castro?
    I’m pretty sure I never made it to that screening, whatever the movie was, since Jess and I still weren’t talking, and I would have dreaded the thought of sitting alone in that theater, of all those in-quisitive queens whispering behind their hands about the solitary state of Gabriel Noone.
    I’m pretty sure, too, that Pete didn’t call, though I must’ve wondered why he didn’t. Maybe I thought I’d finally overloaded him with my shitty life. That’s entirely possible. And maybe that’s why I didn’t call him: to give him a break from all that rampant self-indulgence.
    It’s strange to think that I might have altered the course of everything had we spoken even briefly during that time.
    It was Donna who answered when I did call. Her voice was so col-orless that I knew in my gut something terrible had happened.
    “It’s Gabriel, Donna.”
    “Oh…hi.”
    “Are you okay?”
    “Not really. No.”
    “What’s wrong?”
    “Those bastards at Argus have cancelled Pete’s book.”
    “ What? ” My response was only partially phony. I was shocked to hear the news all right, but in no way confused about what had precipitated it. Every nerve end in my body was already screaming with guilt.
    “They’ve cancelled his goddamn book,” she repeated. “He worked on it for two years and they’ve just changed their minds.”
    “Was this Findlay?”
    “Who else?”
    “Do you know why?”
    “Sort of. It doesn’t make any sense, but…oh dammit, Gabriel, they are such slimy bastards. I should have known not to trust…”
    “Tell me what happened, okay?”
    She paused to catch her breath. “Sorry. I’m really wired right now.
    Things are pretty awful around here. Pete is barely talking to me.”
    “Oh, Jesus…”
    “Poor little dude. If there were any way in hell…”
    “What did Findlay say? Did he give you an explanation?” Oh, please, God, no, I thought. Don’t make me answerable for this.
    “He wanted to send some PR guy out here.”
    “For what?”
    “Background material! Is that a crock or what? He gave them a four-hundred-page manuscript that’s nothing but background material. What more could they possibly need?” I tried my best to sound annoyed but, at the same time, reasonable about the requirements of publishing. “Oh, hell. You know what that is, Donna? That’s just their tired old way of doing things. Publishers are nothing but factories these days, and they don’t turn off the machinery even when they’ve got a special case like Pete. It’s just a matter of routine, really. I’m sure if you—”
    “Fuck their routine. I’m not jeopardizing Pete’s health for their routine. Not to mention dredging up all that hurtful shit again. Pete’s put his pain down on paper and he’s not gonna do it again. He’s not gonna be their trained monkey, no matter what they say. It’s taken too long to get him as far as he is. I can’t do that to him. I just can’t!” I had never heard her so impassioned—or so out of control. “Did you tell Findlay that?”
    “Damn right. He said he’d have to get back to me. Then he called back yesterday and said the whole thing was off. Just like that.
    Without a word of discussion. Can you fucking believe it?” I murmured my outrage, my heart racing faster by the second.
    “Of course I’ve got it figured out,” she added darkly.
    Now my heart seemed to stop altogether as I held my breath.
    “Somebody upstairs has just realized that they won’t get to send this one off to Maury Povich or Jenny Jones or whoever the fuck they were planning on selling him to. They can’t milk him for publicity, so he just isn’t worth their precious time and money. It’s as simple as that, and it’s so callous it makes me want to…Jesus, I still can’t believe it.” I thought for a minute she was going to cry, but all I heard was the sound of her breathing. I chose my words with care, knowing there was still a chance for compromise if I could just angle her into the right frame of mind. “So…you didn’t plan for Pete to do…any publicity