A Noise Downstairs(81)



Anna was reminded of that movie, the one by Stanley Kubrick, where the ape reaches out to touch the black obelisk. Fearfully at first, then, when he realizes the black slab isn’t going to bite him, he runs his hands all over it.

Anna ran her fingers across the keys, gave the space bar a tap.

There didn’t appear to be anything ominous about it, but how the hell did it get back up here if—

“Dr. White?”

Anna turned to see Charlotte standing there. “You startled me,” Anna said. She nodded in the direction of the typewriter. “I just had . . . to look at it. How did it get back up here? Paul had said it was locked in your car.”

Charlotte gave her a quizzical look. “I put it there,” she said.

“Oh, well, of course,” Anna said.

Paul’s wife frowned. “Tell me you didn’t think it got up here on its own.”

“No, no, I didn’t think that,” Anna said, her face flushing. “I’m just surprised to see it.”

“When I went out to get boxes, I needed the trunk space, so I put it back in here. When I get around to Paul’s stuff”—her voice began to break—“I’ll have to decide what to do with it.”

“I guess, if it were me, I’d have . . .”

“You’d have what?”

“It’s none of my business,” the therapist said. “I’m in no position to judge.”

“No, tell me.”

Anna hesitated. “I think I’d have headed for Stratford, stopped on the bridge, and dropped that thing into the Housatonic.”

Charlotte’s chin quivered. She took several seconds before answering. “That’s exactly what Paul wanted to do. I should have let him.”

“You still could,” Anna said.

Charlotte nodded slowly, and said, “Maybe I just have to know.”

Anna let that sink in but said nothing.

Anna emerged from the office and wandered back to the island, where she stood beside a stool, not wanting to perch herself on it unless invited.

“I was getting his suit ready,” Charlotte said. “The pants are wrinkled, and there’s some kind of spot on the back of the jacket. Silly, right? Like anyone’s going to notice.”

“It’s not silly,” Anna said. “You need to get everything the way you want it. You want to do right for Paul.” Anna looked at the empty boxes.

Charlotte didn’t wait for the question. “I’m going to have to sort through Paul’s things sooner or later.”

“This is definitely sooner.”

“I was wandering through the house yesterday and everywhere I looked I saw him. His books, his clothes, his CDs. I know the mourning is just beginning, but these reminders, everywhere I turn, are going to make it go on and on. Better to rip the bandage right off.”

“I guess that’s one way of handling it, but you might be moving a bit fast.”

“You don’t approve.”

“I didn’t say that. I know people who’ve dealt with loss this way. I knew a woman who lost her teenage son in a car accident, and she stripped the house of everything that reminded her of him. A week after he died, you’d have never known he lived there.”

“Did it help?” Charlotte asked.

“If you’re asking did it make her forget, the answer is no,” Anna said.

Charlotte was quiet for a moment. Then, “That detective came by late yesterday. Arnwright.”

“He came to see me, too.”

“He was here two, three times, asking me about Paul, but I guess yesterday’s visit was his last. He had the official coroner’s report, which also meant that they were able to release his body to the funeral home. That Paul did die from drowning.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“He said they couldn’t officially rule it a suicide. I mean, we can’t know what was in his head, and it’s not like he left a note. But based on his behavior the last few weeks, it’s the most likely explanation. So they’ve called it something like ‘death by misadventure.’” Her eyes reddened. “Like it was some sort of fun outing that went wrong.”

Charlotte sighed. She raised her head and looked squarely at Anna.

“Why are you here?”

The question struck Anna with the force of a slap. She sought some reservoir of inner strength and said, “I’m here to say I’m sorry.”

“You said that five seconds ago.”

“This sorry . . . is different. I’m sorry I failed Paul. I failed him badly. You came to me. You told me. You were worried he might do something to himself. I should have done more.”

Charlotte looked at her, steely-eyed. “I guess you should have.”

Anna stood there several more seconds before she realized there was not much else to say. “I shouldn’t have come.” She stopped on her way to the stairs. “But I’d like to come to the service and pay my respects. It’s tomorrow?”

Charlotte nodded. “Two o’clock.”

“I’ll be there.”

“Wonderful,” she said with more than a hint of sarcasm. “Now, if you’ll forgive me, I have a suit to press.”




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