The Thanatos Syndrome

Then I think of nothing. Then something occurs to me.
    â€œChandra, I want you to do me a favor.”
    â€œAsk it.” There is something alarming about her new gravity, her attentiveness to me. I think I liked her smart-aleckness better. “I got a few minutes before I have to do this remote. I’m meeting the camera crew and the remote unit.”
    â€œThis won’t take long. I want you to make a phone call for me.”
    â€œNo problem.” She picks up the wall phone.
    â€œNo. Don’t you have a cellular phone in your car?”
    â€œI surely do.” She looks both pleased and puzzled.
    â€œOkay, but first hand me that phone and I’ll make a call.”
    Hudeen and Chandra make an effort to appear not to listen as I make my call. But they don’t talk. Hudeen turns off the sink tap.
    I call Belle Ame. A woman’s voice answers. I ask for Van Dorn. He’s not there.
    â€œThis is Dr. Thomas More. With whom am I speaking?”
    â€œOh, Dr. More! This is Mrs. Cheney from homeroom. You remember me!”
    â€œI sure do.”
    â€œDr. Van Dorn will be back in a few minutes. He’s down at the soccer field.”
    â€œVery good, Mrs. Cheney.” She has the sweet-lady voice of a sorority housemother. “I am calling to tell you I am picking up Tommy and Margaret and Claude Bon in about an hour. You can tell Dr. Van Dorn when he gets back.”
    â€œWell surely, Doctor, but I thought—”
    â€œPlans have been changed. I’m picking them up. Please have them ready, Mrs. Cheney.”
    â€œI surely will, Doctor. But—”
    But I’ve hung up. I pass the phone to Chandra. She looks at me.
    â€œChandra, I can’t explain now—we have to move fast—but will you make a call for me from your cellular phone in your car?”
    â€œOf course.”
    â€œYou were leaving anyway.”
    â€œYes, I—”
    â€œCan you leave this instant?”
    â€œSure.” She gets up. She hears something in my voice. “What’s the call?” She’s good. She doesn’t ask why.
    â€œDo this please. Go to your car, but don’t make the call until you’ve driven ten blocks past those Cox Cable linemen. Then park and make this call. Call Belle Ame, here’s the number. Ask for a Mr. or Mrs. Brunette. All I want to find out is if they’re at the school. You don’t need to talk to them. Mrs. Cheney will probably answer the phone. You will learn right away either that they’re with the school or that she never heard of them. Hang up. You understand?”
    â€œI understand,” she says, watching me like a hawk.
    â€œThen call me. If Mr. and Mrs. Brunette are with the school, say this: Dr. More, I just called to say I can make it tonight. If Mrs. Cheney never heard of them, say: Dr. More, I’m sorry, but I’m going to be tied up at work. Do you understand?”
    â€œI understand.” What she hears in my voice is the urgency. She’s halfway to the door.
    â€œI appreciate this, Chandra. We have to be careful, even with a cellular phone. I’ll explain later.”
    â€œNo problem.” She’s gone.
    After Chandra leaves, Hudeen and I are silent. Finally Hudeen says “Shew!” and then after a while she says, I think, “Humbug.”
    I move to Chandra’s chair next to the wall phone. The seat is still warm from Chandra.
    Before I know it, Hudeen has given me a plate of Tennessee ham, collard greens, black-eyed peas, two corn sticks which she makes in an iron mold, and a slab of sweet butter. “You ain’t going nowhere till you eat this. You looking poor. You been looking poor.” By poor Hudeen means I’m not fat. “You want some buttermilk?”
    â€œYes.”
    I eat fast, watching the stove clock. It takes four minutes for the phone to ring. Hudeen jumps and says “Lawd.” I let the phone ring twice. I pick it up.
    â€œHello”—with a mouth full of collards.
    â€œDr. More?”
    â€œYes?”
    â€œChandra Wilson.”
    â€œYes, Chandra?”
    â€œI just called in to the station and I can make it tonight.”
    â€œThank you for calling, Chandra. I hope you’ll feel better.” I hang up.
    I eat it all. The ham is strong and salty. The collards are even stronger than Carrie’s mustards, stronger than the meat. Hudeen nods. She is pleased. She wants me fat.
    I look at my watch