"The apartment building where Mike lived was dark when he got home. He pulled in to his car park and got out gingerly. He felt as though the trip to Liffey's bar on the way home helped some. He felt his cell phone buzz in his pocket as he walked into his apartment. He closed the door behind him and put the chain on. It was odd that heard the clock tick on the wall by the door. He hadn't noticed it tick loudly like that before. He stared at the phone. The call came from Missy. he tossed his cell phone aside.
His stride lengthened as he crossed the living room. His answering machine blinked. He flipped through the caller IDs. The hospital called. Fear flickered through him. He clenched his teeth and hit the play button.
It was Corcoran. There was a hum of voices in the background as though he was calling in from a crowded room. "Hey, Mike, everybody's looking for you here. Missy's gone home in tears. What's up? I told everybody you were sick. Guess that cafeteria breakfast had finally hit home with you, huh? Well, call me tonight. I'll be home. You need to call tomorrow to let them know if you're still under the weather." There was a pause. "Hey, I heard Dr. Levy died last night. Did you know him? I never met hi. OK, see you around."
The silence of the apartment was unnerving. Quickly Mike turned around and found the TV remote. The news was on.
"Dr. James Levy was found dead last night of a fatal stab wound in the parking lot behind the Yale Gymnasium. He was on staff at Yale New Haven Hospital in the Neurology Department. Police do not have any statement at this time other than they wish to speak to anyone who might know the circumstances surrounding Dr. Levy's death."
Mike switched the channels until he found a movie. He walked to the kitchen and leaned against the counter. A wave of fear came over him. He needed another drink. He found beer in the fridge and guzzled it down. The telephone rang. He ignored it.
Missy's voice came on. "Mike? Mike? Are you home? I heard you were sick. I really would have appreciated it if you told me yourself. Do you need me to come over? Mike, pick up the phone." After a brief pause, she hung up.
Mike found it hard to think anymore. Somehow the urge to call someone came over him . He decided to call his mother. He ran back into the living room and retrieved his cell phone. Her reassuring voice cam on after the first ring.
"Hello, Mom."
"Hello, Mike. I'm surprised you're calling. How are you?"
"I'm OK." He sat down finally on the couch. "I need to talk to a lawyer."
"Mike, a lawyer? What about? Is there anything the matter?"
"It's nothing important. But I figured it might be a good time to talk to one. Something I wanted to ask about wills and trusts. Stuff like that."
"Oh, well, I could give you Jonathan Moore's telephone number."
"Yes, do that. Let me find a pen and paper." He reached for a pad paper and a pen from the side table.
"Ready?"
"Yes."
She gave the number. "Listen, Mike, about Lauren. She's really a very nice girl. She and you seemed to like each other back in high school."
"High school?" He closed his eyes. A vague memory stirred. "I don't remember Lauren," he said shortly, turning a blind eye at distant memory of a tall dark-haired girl who had just slapped his face after making a pass at her at the senior prom.
"What does she look like?" he inquired despite his protestations.
"She's tall, like her Dad. Dark-brown hair. She has a very sweet face. You thought she was nice. But you didn't ask her out much."
He shook his head. "Well, I don't know. I asked a lot of girls out."
"Mike, you don't sound to good. Are you well?"
"Mom, do you have Lauren's cell number?"
"Oh, Mike! Yes!" His mother paused. "Here it is."
He wrote the number down.
"What does Lauren do these days?"
"Don't you remember? She's a lawyer, like her dad."
The words sank into his consciousness and carried his heart with it. "Listen, Mom, I might be coming home soon. I think I miss your cooking. Food at the hospital is crap."'
(c) Copyright 2017, Copyright 2019 Mary Faderan
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