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and getting dressed.
"What's happening?" I asked. "Did I fall
asleep?"
"For a little while. I didn't want to disturb you,
but we've got to get you back to your car. Are you all
right?" he asked.
I felt like someone emerging from a dream. "What? Oh, yes, right," I said, and began to
fumble for my clothing.
"I just want to check out a few things in the
house. I'll be in the living roam." he said, and left me. I was tired, but it was a pleasant sort of fatigue.
It actually made me feel a little silly, and I couldn't
help giggling when I gazed at myself in the mirror. Whoever owned the house had a collection of elaborate Mardi Gras masks displayed on a wall. I took one off its hook and put it on before I left the
bedroom to search for Thatcher.
I could hear him speaking very low on the
telephone. "I'll be there." I heard him say. "Stop
worrying about it."
I stepped into the doorway of the kitchen. He
had his back to me.
"Of course I care about you." he said. "What a
stupid question. I've got to go. Later. We'll talk about
it later." He cradled the receiver, standing there and
looking at it as if he had an afterthought he wanted to
see if he could still include.
When he turned, he jumped. For a moment. I
had forgotten I was wearing the mask.
"Very funny," he said. I removed the mask. "Who were you calling so late?" I asked in a
much more demanding tone of voice than he
obviously expected. It even surprised me. but I felt I
had a significant enough investment in him and us to
do so.
