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Inside them, where we stand, I say, "What's waiting, Ritchie?"
But I know.
Without question, I know.
I only hope he can find it.
When everyone's left, I share another coffee with the Doorman. After about half an hour, we're interrupted by a knock at the door.
Ritchie, I think.
The Doorman seems to nod in agreement as I walk over and open it.
"Hey, Ritchie," I greet him. "You forget something?"
"No."
I let him in and we sit at the kitchen table.
"Coffee?"
"No."
"Tea?"
"No."
"Beer?"
"No."
"You're picky, aren't you?"
He answers that one with silence but soon looks at me. He asks, with penetration, "You been following me?"
I look straight back and say, "I follow everyone."
He pockets his hands. "You a pervert or something?"
It's funny--that's what Sophie asked me as well. I shrug. "No more than anyone else, I s'pose."
"Well, could you stop?"
"No."
His face edges closer. "Why not?"
"I can't."
He looks at me as if I'm trying to pull one over him. His black eyes say, Why don't you enlighten me, Ed? so I do.
I go into my bedroom and pull the cards out from the drawer and return to the table. My hand drops them down in front of my friend and I say, "Remember when I got that first card in the mail, back in September? I told you I threw it away, but I didn't." It flows out of me quickly. I face him. "And now you're on one of the cards, Ritchie. You're one of the messages."
"Are you sure?" He attempts to point out that it might be a mistake, but I hear nothing of it. I only shake my head and feel some sweat gather under my arms.
"It's you," I tell him.
"But why?"
