Free The Cartoonist by Sean Costello Page B

mean?”
    “Don’t tell me you don’t remember. The nightmare you had? You sat up in bed—stood more like—then you asked me to close the window.”
    Scott shook his head. The last thing he remembered was Krista calling Caroline in Boston, and even that seemed curiously fragmented. The Valium , he thought again, searching his memory, trying to pick up an image of the events following the phone call.
    “Can’t recall,” he said.
    “I find that hard to believe,” Krista said, temporarily suspending the massage. “I mean, you were right up on your knees, and you looked straight at me when you asked me to close the window.”
    Scott explained to her that one of the properties of Valium, particularly when used in conditions of stress, was the production of amnesia. He told her this was the main reason the drug was so popular as an adjunct in anesthesia. Krista nodded with patient uninterest.
    Then Scott asked her about her plans regarding Boston.
    “I still don’t know,” she said, looking down at her folded knees. “I’d feel terrible if anything happened to you here all alone. You could fall or...or...”
    “Or what?” Scott said, not really expecting an answer. “Look, I’ll make you a deal. If you go, you can take the Volvo.”
    Krista’s face lit up like a child’s on Christmas morning. Just as quickly, it clouded over again. “Are you trying to get rid of me, Scott Bowman? Are you having an affair?”
    For a heartbeat Scott thought she was serious, and he was just getting ready to tell her how ridiculous a question that had been when Krista giggled and splashed him.
    “Do you mean it?” she said, smiling sunnily.
    “Would I kid about the Volvo? Anyway, I don’t like the idea of you going all that way in the Chevette, new or not. If you ever got hit in that damned thing...” He leaned over and kissed her, dripping bathwater onto her slacks. “Okay? I want you to go.”
    This was a lie. He wasn’t in the least looking forward to being alone in the house; it would be his first time since they moved in. It wasn’t that he was afraid or anything like that...it was just that he hated being alone. It was his personal neurosis.
    He continued his sales pitch. “It’ll do you both good. I’ll call Gerry if I need anything, and Anderson’s is only five minutes away. I feel a lot better today, anyway.”
    Krista arched a doubting brow.
    “Deal?” Scott said.
    “Deal,” Krista said after a considering pause. “I’ll do it.”
    * * *
    It was noon and they were standing by the idling Volvo, Scott in his bathrobe, Krista in shorts and a yellow tank top. The car was loaded with enough clothing and God knew what else to last the girls until sometime into the next century, and the day was clear and hot, ideally suited for a long drive in an air-conditioned sports car.
    “And don’t forget,” Scott said as Krista leaned into the back seat to secure the Coleman cooler. “When you stop for gas—”
    “Use only Shell high-test,” Krista said, finishing his sentence with noticeable exasperation. This was the third time he’d gone through his twenty-point car-care instruction plan. When it came to the Volvo, Scott was the original ‘old woman.’
    ”I’ll take care of your baby,” she said, returning his embarrassed grin. ”Okay?”
    Scott slapped her fanny. He was feeling much better now. The bath had loosened him up nicely, and afterward, he’d taken a short stroll along the private, tree-lined Cottage Road. The combination of hot water and gentle exercise had banished a lot of the stiffness. Now he felt only as if he’d overdone it in a game of touch football or somesuch the day before. That was bad enough, but he felt nothing like the rusted hulk he had when he crawled out of bed this morning.
    ”Where’s Kath?” he said.
    Krista’s smile evaporated, her brow furrowing with the same deep cleft Kath got when concerned. “Down at the dock. She’s still acting a little...funny. You know.