“I didn’t want it to seem…A driver. It’s a bit over the top. I didn’t want you to think that I…” He’s actually stammering, and it is cute. There’s no getting around it. I feel my resolve slipping.
“Oh,” I say, trying to avoid the way the streetlight is hitting Richard’s eyes. Or the way my heart is beating so hard that I think my body may be rocking along with it.
“It’s silly to take the train.” Richard points again in the direction of his car as he starts past the stairs. Simple, matter-of-fact.Let’s go.
But there isn’t anything simple about Richard and me sliding into the back seat of his car after this dizziness. Or the conversation that will surely take place when he walks me to my door. When he suggests he come up for a quick drink. When I say yes. When we kiss behind a closed door, my bed within easy reach.
We are a freight train. We will crash if someone doesn’t pull the brake.
It has to be me. Right now. I will not be this person again—the other woman. No matter how different, how real, this feels. Real and right aren’t the same.
“I have to go.” I manage to smile in spite of the burn in mythroat. I give Richard a quick, stiff hug before darting for the stairs. “Thank you for dinner.”
“Frankie!” he calls after me.
But I keep rushing down the stairs until I’m at the first landing, caught between one staircase leading up, one down. I look up at Richard. Ringed in light at the top of the steps, he looks beautiful. So beautiful.
The silence stretches out. But it’s light now. It feels like alchemy.
“I miss you,” he calls down finally. He presses a hand to his chest like he’s trying to wrap his fingers around his own heart. “I miss you.” The second time he says it, his voice breaks.
I grip the handrail, afraid my knees are going to buckle.
But I don’t reply. If I try to speak, I’ll start crying. Or, God forbid, I might start back up the stairs. Instead, I raise a hand, intending to wave, but it ends up more of a salute.
I hold it together for a second more, then the tears begin to fall as I run down the rest of the stairs.
Richard Falk Police Interview
5:37 a.m., September 12
Q.Did you love Frankie Callahan?
A.What does that question even mean?
Q.What does “Did you love her” mean?
A.I see the way you’re looking at me. I’m not trying to be flip. I just think—people throw around the wordloveall the time like it’s something completely singular. Love is a lot of different things. I’ve loved a lot of people in my life.
Q.Women you’ve had affairs with?
A.No. That’s not what I mean.
Q.What were they, then? These other people you’ve loved.
A.Friends, colleagues. Men and women. It wasn’t romantic and it had absolutely nothing to do with my marriage to Gretchen.
Q.Is that the way the women felt toward you? That you were their friend?
A.Of course. It would be patronizing to assume otherwise, don’t you think? Sexist, too.
Q.So Frankie was a friend who you loved?
A.Yes.
Q.Were you having sex?
A.No.
