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"This," I state. And I beg her. I nearly weep as I say, "Tell me, Audrey--please tell me it's you. Say you've been sending me these cards." I plead with her. "Tell me you just wanted me to help people and..."
"And what, Ed?"
I close my eyes. "Make myself better--make me worth something."
The words fall to the floor, to the cards, and Audrey smiles. She smiles and I wait for her to admit it.
"Tell me!" I demand. "Tell--"
She folds.
She tells the truth.
The words flow almost unconsciously from her mouth.
"No, Ed," she says slowly. "It wasn't me." She shakes her head and faces me. "I'm sorry, Ed. I'm so sorry. I wish it was, but..."
She doesn't finish her sentence.
Finally, it comes.
Another knock rattles at my door, and I know this one feels right. It's late, the hand is harsh, and I place my shoes on my feet before I go to answer it.
Breathe deep, Ed.
I do.
"Stay here," I order the Doorman when he meets me in the hall, but he follows me back to the door.
When I open it, there's a man in a suit.
"Ed Kennedy?" He's bald and has a lengthy mustache.
"Yes," I say.
He comes closer to the doorway and says, "I have something for you--can I come in?"
He's friendly enough, and I decide that if he wants to come in, I should allow it. I step aside and let the man past. He's tall and middle-aged, and his voice is steeped with politeness and assertion.
"Coffee?" I ask, but he declines.
"No, thank you."
This is the first time I see the briefcase in his hand.
He sits and opens it, and inside he has a wrapped lunch, an apple, and an envelope.
"Sandwich?" he offer
s.
"No, thanks."
"Good decision. My wife makes an awful sandwich--I couldn't bear to eat it today."
Quickly he turns to business, handing me the envelope.
"Thanks." I speak with trepidation.
