Free Already Gone by John Rector Page B

days?”
    “It’s a standing offer. Take your time and let me know what you decide.”
    “Thanks.”
    Doug slaps his knees with the palms of his hands, then pushes himself up and out of the chair. “Now that all that bullshit is out of the way, how about we go somewhere and get a drink and catch up? It’s almost happy hour.”
    I shake my head. “Can’t, I quit.”
    “Quit what?”
    “Drinking,” I say. “I’m done.”
    Doug watches me, trying to see if I’m joking. “That sounds rather drastic.”
    I shrug.
    “We don’t have to go back to The Body Shoppe if that’s the problem. You can pick the spot this time.”
    “That’s not it. I quit drinking.”
    “You’re serious?”
    I tell him I am.
    “And what brought on this insanity?”
    “It was time for a change,” I say. “I can’t afford to be clouded anymore. I have to stay focused.”
    “On what?”
    “On what’s coming.”
    Doug stares at me. “What exactly is coming?”
    “I just can’t afford to let my guard down, not right now.” I pause. “I called Gabby.”
    “You did what?”
    “It’s fine. I explained the situation to him, and he offered to help.”
    “Help how?”
    “He’s going to find the two guys who attacked me.”
    “Jesus, Jake.”
    “I have to know who they are, and I want to talk to them, especially after what happened to Diane.”
    Doug shakes his head. “Diane was in a car accident.”
    I turn away, don’t speak.
    “Come on,” Doug says. “Let’s go out. I’ll buy you a club soda, and we can talk about all of this.”
    “Not tonight.” I point to the stacks of papers on my desk. “I’ve got essays to grade.”
    It was a joke, but Doug doesn’t smile.
    “Should I be worried about you, Jake?”
    “No,” I say. “I’ve got everything under control.”
    And like a fool, I believe it.

– 16 –
     
    After the campus clears and the sun drops behind the mountains, I pack a couple stacks of ungraded papers into my bag then grab my keys and head home. When I get there, I go straight to the kitchen and check my voice mail.
    There’s a message, but it’s not the one I was hoping to hear.
    “Mr. Reese. This is Adam Fisher at Pearson’s Funeral home. I’m calling to let you know we’ve received your wife’s remains, and if you’d like to come by and select an urn, we can have them placed—”
    I delete the message.
    I stay at the table for a while, staring at nothing, trying not to think about Diane. I feel the tears pressing at the back of my eyes, and I fight to keep them there.
    At first it works, then it doesn’t.
    I consider getting in my car and driving, no idea where, just away.
    I don’t want to be inside the house anymore. The rooms seem too big, too quiet, too full of ghosts.
    I reach into my pocket and pull out Lisa’s card. I think about the conversation I had with Doug in my office, how he’d asked why I wanted to talk to Lisa.
    I didn’t have an answer then, and I still don’t.
    Even if I did convince her to talk to me, what were the chances she’d tell me something I didn’t already know? Diane was scared and confused and looking for answers.
    Nothing new there.
    It’s more likely I’ll make things worse. Lisa will hang up on me again, and I’ll still be sitting in the kitchen, still bleeding for a drink, still wondering why my wife left and where she was going and what exactly happened to her on that empty road leading toward the desert.
    But what if she doesn’t hang up?
    The possibility is all I need.
    I pick up the phone and dial the number off the card.
    The line rings, and I wait.
    I tell myself I’m not going to leave another message. If the machine picks up, I’m going to hang up.
    The line clicks. I wait for the familiar message asking me to leave my name and number, but it doesn’t come.
    This time, someone answers.

     
    The woman on the other end of the line is all sunshine and smiles, until I tell her who I am.
    “Mr. Reese, I don’t want you to call here